feed my brain

photo credits Dennis Dixson

feed my brain with better thoughts,
show some emotion give me some time,
open your ears and hear that
which I say: I am yours and I
will touch your life
someday more than today.

but now is the day
when you can touch mine
when you're given the chance
to hand me a sun ray
to help me climb over the rainbow
perhaps we could tame its wild horses.

don't let my ears close
to the frequency of your voice
don't let my brain fill
simply with noise
sing me a song now
while you still can feed my brain.

(http://www.photo.net/photodb/user?user_id=97366

magic glue and pixie dust (2)

what kind of magic glue and pixie dust
did you throw in, and mixed with the words
before you tied them neatly in a row
threw them towards me where they touched me
and they stayed ever since stuck to my heart
shining incessantly, especially when it is dark?
but what, tell me what is stronger than words
and what is weaker than words
when there is a lot of thin air between us,
an old bumpy road and an ocean to cross?
what else can you do - other than talk
unless you decide to pick up your shoes,
finally get a sense of direction and walk ?

green friendship

there once was a child
who befriended a tree
who grew carelessly in front of his door;
But the tree started taking care of his limbs
just barely scratching his knees,
when he was not being gentle and kind;
the tree grew taller and straighter
with time, the child grew wiser
and one day he left home to go far;
when he let go of the tree
he hurt his arm, and got a scratch on his knee;
he took many steps on the road that he chose,
and he chose to walk many roads,
but the vertical path, and the need to grow up,
the joy to swing with the wind,
and the need to stay clean,
that he learned from his tree
these are lesson that stay with him.

memory

photo credits : judy ben joud
and I miss her sweet soul
and the flame in her voice
when she was defending the truth
and was doing her best to bring proof;

and I miss little gossips
about princes and artists;
around a coffee cup
and a plate with some cookies;


and I miss a good word
that she would launch
with positive energy
always meant to encourage and help me;

the knowledge, the style
the curious friends, and mysterious words
she was mumbling in French
when I, as a kid, was to not understand

If I go back and sit at her window
then as usually lean out (just a bit dangerously)
how would I know if the wind shaking the curtains
is not there to tell her hello?

rebellion

and why in the world
should I walk the same path
why would I want to be
nothing better than you,
who's only role might have been
to bring me up
in this world
(and you did not yet figure out
how it works)?
should I be grateful
should I be hateful
for the state of things?
should I take my guitar
and cry with its strings;
should I look for peers
when I feel in my heart
that there's nobody yet
thinking like me
or loving my art?
or should I run hard
to be the first in a race
ahead of the others
and leaving no time
to think of the past
(whether or not is for me
to understand).
leave me some time
to calm down
come back when I'll have
my own kids to talk to
perhaps then I'll buy your advice
with solid gold but for now,
leave the door closed
I will decide
when to come out
of my shell
for a hug.

One

Do I know one, or do I know many
sometimes dark and silent
often moody and windy,
at other times inviting and bright
apparently tame and so sunny
as only a mirror to the one
real sun can be?
by now you must know
that we talk of the sea
the many colors we see
beyond the foam that washes
from pebbles to sand and to dust.
host to the fish that are living
and dying and feeding a horde,
while she stays immutable,
feared and still loved
indispensable to all
the different, many faceted
uniquely invincible one

evening blue thoughts

for more see the Vincent van Gogh Gallery

at the end of the day
we hope that the stars will stay in their place
that we' ll get to see them again
even though we are constantly moving in space

we secretly hope that we'll never grow old
that our children will fill the day with their laughs
always in tune and always surprising for us,
while we manage to be bright, wise and somehow incredibly young

if the world is to be subject to changes
we hope it will despite everything be for the best.
with such dreams under our hats
we head up to bed for a well deserved rest.

quote of the day

"Be the ball!"

from here

wonderful world

this morning I walked out the door
my right foot first and ready to dance
on the ray of sun that usually takes me
from here to where I need to go in no time.

there was music on the radio
the car ride was smooth and the drivers almost polite
while we shared the road they crossed a few yellow lights
and but one crossed my path in a dangerous way.

I made it here ready to do my usual thing
start the morning with a coffee and then increase the tension
hour by hour till lunch break when I was unprepared
to learn that again the world was going to war

an airplane has failed to take off
schools are struggling here to keep up with the pace of
an increasing number of children; while somewhere else
incredibly far they were starving to death, or refused education.

My lunch break ready to end, I am going to return to my desk
and leave it to others to wonder on what us important to do with a day
shall we change the face of our politicians or is it a way
to deal with the world in our own time, with our own hands.

Are we ready to dance, are we ready to fight and protest
are we ready to go back to a normal day?
as if there was ever such thing as a normal day everywhere
for everybody in this wonderful world.

LA

villager in LA
almost drunk
from too much sun
and too much salt

the colors spin
from bougainvilleas
to a big screen
the eyes adjust

if only the asphalt
would not burn my shoe
if only the gray of the street
could be swallowed by the sky blue

I would stay here
on top of the hill
to wait for the day
when the poors get rich in LA.

the sea

she never stumbles
she always tries
till she shines
to burn your eyes

the memory keeper

she went to the village
in serch for the roots
for the air who made her ancestors
be who they were when she met them;

the old lady seated in front of the guest house
was related to her, in a way
most villagers were
and she told it to her

she said it quick without a warning
making sure that she gives it to her
in such a way that she will remember
and transfer the duty - of the memory keeper.

77

What is it that makes you move
in a dialog with an upper seated person
from priority number 97 to priority 77?
what strings should you play ?

should you play loud or just be gentle
just making your voice heard
will maybe change the perception (of who you are?)
and move you up to the high number seven?

will you ever be number one
for anybody but yourself and sometimes
your circle of loved ones and friends?
will otherwise fame or money sparkle genuine interest?

if an idea is not heard
it does not matter if it is good or bad,
if patience is lacking and people are many
competeing for attention you may not get any

perhaps you shoud be the first to not to the same
to those who are seated below you
if the little ones will not blame you
for this fault you may be changing the unattentive person.