Speaking In Tongues
Scribbling In Voices
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- Planning Escape
- From Your Childhood Dreams
- In Search Of Transformation
- 10 Days of Hell
Planning Escape
- Let me leave to be lost and found
- To be re-assembled by
- The chemistry of a sound
- The trajectory of a sigh.
- An ear against the wall.
- A leap of a furious heart.
- Feet stumbling on shoes in the hall.
- A curtain not yet pulled apart.
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- A suitcase and nothing to pack.
- A key turning, clicking, stuck.
- A keyhole in pain, bleeding black.
- A radio in the truck.
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- A hoarse-voiced, soft, jazz-like way
- Of kissing the past goodbye.
- A shamelessly naked day
- Exposing its back to the sky.
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- Uneasiness breaks like a spell.
- No treacheries ever again.
- A soul can rip off its shell
- To soak in the warm summer rain.
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From Your Childhood Dreams
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- In the warmth of a foggy morning,
- When street lamps shed their milky light
- You will float towards the unknown
- Through the pool of a dying night.
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- On the plank of a butterfly wisper,
- Paddling with a smooth sting of an oar,
- You'll evoke the non-existent
- Breaking through the forbidden door.
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- Breath of roses and dew sprayed around,
- Autumn mist irresistably sweet,
- Like a dream, not a move, not a sound
- But a rustle of hasty feet.
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- And a woman, old, pale, with grey hair,
- Will appear in phosphorous stream,
- So angry and lost in despare...
- 'You should leave! Close the door!' she will scream.
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- You will lean on a cold heavy metal.
- You will push it with all of your might
- Wishing just for a crumpled rose petal
- Stained with sobs of a dying night.
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In Search of Transformation
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- Why
- do kisses taste sweet and stale,
- Dry
- crumbs of a yesterday's cake.
- My
- song is a wolf's lonely wail,
- My
- name is a wispering snake.
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- Why
- doesn't love last long enough.
- Tired
- eyes, drooping shapes in the night.
- I'm
- lost in the blind-man's buff,
- Tied
- up in the absence of light.
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- Time
- winding its heart every day
- Might
- burst shooting hundreds of springs
- High
- into the sky's disarray,
- Di-
- luting the order of things.
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- I
- may fly away or stay here
- I'll
- win or I'll lose, what the heck,
- My
- name will still hiss in my ear,
- My
- song will howl, looping my neck.
10 Days Of Hell
- Needles and pins
- under my skin,
- Pieces of cloth.
- Sugar and salt -
- nobody's fault,
- Touch of a moth.
- Aching in sleep,
- learning to weep
- Day after day.
- Snowfall seeds,
- mercury beeds
- Are on the way.
- Tears and rust,
- smoke and dust
- Blending so well,
- Aging so fast.
- These are the last
- 10 days of Hell.