14 January 2009 The Day I got inked again
 
These are the days
When
I am a 
Wanderer &
A listener
I turn my ears
To the city's
Voices and sounds
The vacated
Market square
Calls a beat in
Fours
With the stress
On the first
Drums
Pounding
Endless rhythm
1-2-3-4
And
1-2-3-4
The library
Chess game
Has cultures
At play
Vocal support
And laughter
On every move
The tattoo parlour
Plays its music loud
And has the high pitched
Nagging sound of
Needles inking
Skin
These are the days
When I am
Just curious
About life around
Me
As it manifests
Itself in
Decibels
Bits of conversation
Words unconnected
Spinning a long
Yarn
Of
Unity
Ultimately
Biking around
I pick up the
School kids' words
On things cool
In their new fangled
Lingo
That I don't speak
I drink the
Sounds
Pure
No mixed drink or
Watered down
Version
It's strong liquor
I can take
That
Hold my own
And hold it down
Cars honk
My bike's wheels
Splash the 
Silent puddles into
Tiny voices
The young boy
Who's accompanying
His mum in
Inkstitution
Taps his feet on
Maiden's
Can I play with
Madness
Sights and
Sounds
Still me
Silence me
Humble me
Feed me
Cuddle me
My words
Stay
Unspoken
My ears are
Filled
My tongue
Takes a break
I am
Continually
Listening
To 
All
Around
 
 
 

  
You give yourself
Unashamedly
Strike your different poses
I take delight
Your eyes look at me
As if I'm your prey for the night
I let you
At times you look
Into me
Trying to find all the
Answers and explanations
To your hurt
I hold you
Your head near my
Chest
You hear my beating
Heart
Saying ba-boom ba-boom boom
Boom
Rhythm of life
My life
Of which you 
Now
Have become a part
A major role
That brings pleasure
And companionship
And joy
I rejoice and
Renounce
Each time
A small beautiful
Gift
That I did not 
See coming
Expecting no thing
Happy with each thing
Given by you
Troubled
Sweet passionate
Girl
Give yourself
To me and
You alike

 

The Baker's Girl 30 November 2008

Baker's notes

Do many things

They skid or fly

They dance or skip

They climb or tap

Feel the mood

Enhance the mood

Manipulate & soothe

Raw or slow & smooth

Fill the room

Stop the time

Break the count and

All in rhyme

Syncopate

Illuminate

The crevices of my

Soul

Take the parts

And make it whole

(Do I dare to bebop

a bop here?)

Make me wait

I hesitate

Sing out here or

Here?

Baker's beat

Tap my feet

Sing of sweet

& soft

Feed me back

To health

Nutritious

Wholemeal

Musical munching

And a lovely

Baker's girl

I met last month...

   
My refuge 21 September 2008
 
This is my Sunday:
Cuddled and hugged & kissed
My boys in the morning bed
What a brilliant way to wake
Then down
Breakfast time
Crackers for Tim
Toast for Sebas with pesto on top
And a grilled salami sandwich for Misha
Freshly squeezed orange juice
Pear juice soy milk
And coffee for me
I quarter an apple a kiwi
I semi a passion fruit
Followed by some muesli & more
Coffee for me
We wash we dress
We dance in the bathroom while
Doing all that to some Classic Rock
Of CCR
We hug & kiss &
Create some fun
I dance with Sebas
I dance with Misha
I dance with Tim
Shoes on
Jackets on
The church bells toll
Out loud
Close by
But not for us
For we are on our way
With balls and bike
To the nearby football court
To kick some balls
Play some footie
On the bedewed artificial green
Top
There's a hint of mist still in
The air
The moon's still about
He doesn't want to go to sleep
He's still looking to see what we
Are going to do
The four of us
This all male family of four
We try to stay on our feet
We try to not hurt ourselves
Playing
We get warm from running
From kicking
From keeping track of the score
Eleven nine
The game ends with Misha playing
Sebas
Tim decided to play ball by himself
The orange and black patched plastic
That grandma bought
I join him some minutes later and 
The game is kicking the ball high
Up in the air
On its descend
Timothy tries
To hit it with one hand
Sometimes two hands
See the smiles on our faces
Four smiles four faces
Simple game
Twenty nineteen
Misha won
The game ends in injury and
Tears
Ball against face and nose
The ref calls it quits (that's me)
And consoles the injured player by
Kissing him and giving him a hug
We walk/bike home again
Tim stops and waits for 
Us to cross the street
He looks at what the bird is 
Eating - a kaiserbrötchen -
We walk carry the balls and 
Talk -
Then the 
Boys are
Picked up
By my ex
Sunday morn 11.01 am
The house is empty
I go up to the bathroom/ballroom
And take a crap
Off to the footiegame on
My bike
After the game
Home again
Then I realise 
That today
Exactly one full year ago
I got the key to this place
And moved in on the very first day
No telly
No lights
Just a bed
No furniture
Me and my house
One full year
Alone
I drink some port
I eat some dinner
Dessert of apple pie with whipped
Cream
On top
I sleep some
I watch some footie on the 
Telly
I surf some on the net
Check my ebay sales
Up to the bathroom
Again
Where I dance with me
To some Classic Rock
Shave 
Shower
Write
Outlook
Book
Read
Masturbate
Sleep
This is my one year 
Anniversary
Me time
Sunday
 
 

  
Life's great, Innit? 22 June 2008
 
I'll not and drown my sadness
In any adult percentage of
Whatever kind
However unkind
The sadness appears
I'll take it head on
Headstrong
Raw emotions
Clashing
Raging
Maiming
A full time battle
Over a part time job at best
What the hell am I doing it 
For anyway?
Who'll tell me?
Is there a real answer
Anyway?
These questions are the weapons
Used in battle
When most would say
I should know better
But it's not about knowing,
You know?
It's all emo-stuff
The girlie bits
I'm so in touch with
The wounds will never heal
This way
There is no time to
When fresh cuts are made
In same same places
Open wounds not yet 
Scars
Or...
Old old scars
Ripped open ‘gain and again
And
Some
More
Ah well,
Don't be a wuss
You melodramatic
Old fart
Life's great
Innit?