| panta rhei |
| Swiss Poem Account Collection |
| Poem Account Poets Joshua Griffin Craig Moore judih |
| comments: judih@hotmail.com |
| Flames how shall the riddle of thinking be solved and how the one of the flame? words with the flavour of scars and roses resounding in the cellar of life where the hole in the heart is as big as a truck and dawn lies shred and mangled time and expired existence dread a new reality reasoned by a chance erased before being read the sun rises while you are sleeping in a shining reticle not knowing with whom you are or what has happened; forever scarred by the past that lingers living nearby yet very far where will you be servant of your own experiments or dj of thought whose mixer is your scientific tool to design a bizarre universe of sound? you are roaming around restlessly abhoring vagueness while you breathe the wind in the rhythm of time a caged bird is singing so sweetly to scorch your soul as you kiss whom you hold now close and dear like an asteroid lighting on a trajectory you smile to understand the bird in the cage is trilling in minor chord while the torch is gently rotating; you open the window to dreams and stars and the wine you drink is as red as your heart and the night is crying and taut as a string you cannot rest and have to send out sparks forever i am nothing, you say, and your laboratory is vibrating and flickering just like your soul; it is wailing and howling when you touch the wires of mind or fiddle on your veins or blow the yearning trumpet of love; i am nothing, you say, and are sure about it, because everything else is uncertain life is a propitious prophylaxis of death a blissfull illusion a beautiful rose witchcraft of mind firmament for the heart detoxification is the truth true? your hand your own? sixty-two ways to support the head while thinking; your thoughts flare up like flames, logical and indistinct, precise and confusing; your formulas, your slogans that you hang up on pegs to set on fire later on disintegrate into dust before being tamed criticizing the human as a hypocritical creature you are loath to the process of thinking yet cannot stop; you ride on words while you have already dismissed the written idea nothing is certain, nothing is sure everything is flaring up and fading away and nothing but the attempt to understand with heart is burning in the night of shadows how shall the riddle of thinking be solved and how the one of the flame? your hands are baskets to be filled with pearls your thoughts birds that fly gracefully through the night your hair is an abstract of dreams and i long to touch it as dawn dust comes on quieter than silence and light slowly creeps filling space how long since we got drunk on wind and wine? i am not sure what it means to roll in the moving motion of time and light i am not sure what it means to dine on slices of september moon or if the herbs of tomorrow can spice yesterday's dreams i shall drink cinnamon and stars while the world is asleep the heart a flame and blue with wonder i shall caress the sand that is left between toes and teeth and behind eyelids and cry pearls and flare up laughing i am soaked with light and the gold of a thousand suns and a thousand ways to love the burning of the sky i am everything i am nothing i am the paradox that is eternity in the moment's universe i am writing down words so the wind can hear me and call them across nightfishing among the plankton of my vocabulary phosphorizing in the dark to listen for sweetness a million surfaces without a tongue lineament of dreams Alps no hunger in the air just silence the moon spills a delirium of ancient motions onto the earth's terrain of somber flanks flooding sacred snow and scarred rock the sky does not know pain spans the mass of stone triangular peaks abstract by beauty in the caves of your heart silence whispers soaring towards one ecstatic hosanna one shrill sustained sonic splendor your dehumanized cry louder than the echo of time Bones wrapped up so rapidly between having and having not that bone won't break while i sing with a choir of black breathless dogs sucking juice out of words to come again pore by pore to satisfy hunger horror absurd to censor this food like jellyfish in the cup of my mouth the private tongue glowing stranger corona in the buds the wolf of the west eats and eats Circles like clouds we float through births and deaths the path of night the path of light we walk them dreaming the only thing we have in mind even when we wake: the murmur of rain we heard when we were in bed at night You, Nomad you, painter of rivers of old dreams & shadows of wanting your brush is dripping & you're drinking from the glass of antigravity and wandering sipping timelessness, blue and awakened in drunken drownings you! the traveller of lighted dreams hungry & filled with hidden galaxies speak divine, goldshowery shaken tumbling through time, listening to sandstorms in your secret dahab that blow scatterred paradises upon your honeymoon sandwich, you! jiggling in your retsina and cookiecore, smiling inside sugarshores of leaving & longing you, juggler of crowns, windside dancing on desert trains speak the dark whispers of broken sunshine and moonlit questions that linger in between aeons and souls you meander through bloodstreams and crystalline poems fingers slipping into pockets where conglobate kisses, stored & dried, are sleeping and you are left with only your fish and captured titanics, your jellyfishsongs and swaying, you, the stone filled with the echoes of a million lightyears filled with seething dewdrops and the rage of eons, you, tumbling through the hiccups of freedom with burning eyelashes and smiling snakes crawling through your bloodstream you, the hungry star swallowing eternities your sore throat softer than the inside of your skin, you! you! you hear the sift of time, the murmur of the last grain of sand trickling down your spine you eat the ripened word the sheer aureole of the dance...in your deep pockets the suns are alive living light between your curled fingertips you, nomad, wherever you are, the desert that shifts inside you, is with you, your footsteps backtracking the drops of light dripping from your lips as you milk darkness out of flames as if a spark, dreamed by you, could ripen in cold and light a blaze of flaming flames This Yell is Mine all nights, all nights i read the scars on the inner wall of your absence all night long i lie in the hunger that became a bed for me like a scarab devoured in the sphere of its own dung so many words like pebbles thrown idly against the pure black background of time; the lava inside bubbling restlessly like an idea of something lost within i am wild open dawn folds into me this yell of mine rocks shudder |
| poetry III Flames Alps Bones Circles You, Nomad This Yell is Mine |
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Poem Account Poets panta rhei wylde Barry Fitton Craig Moore Paul Kren Joshua Griffin Orphicgoblin Jota judih |
| Artist on the web:www.buschwind.de |
| comments: judih@hotmail.com |
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