Surround sound

I can hear my footsteps

as I walk through
a world of sound
made by men’s creations
and constructions

and nature
who fight every day
and night to remain
present

I can hear my footsteps

for they are my doing
my walking
my left behind prints
on these streets

only for seconds
tops
pursuing whatever
drives me forward

I can still hear my footsteps

over all the cars
and public transport
and cutting winds
fighting those skyscrapers

over people talking
and bicycles and mopeds
and pigeons and lovers kissing
and phones calling

I can still hear my footsteps

for they are mine
as a part of my nature
of me being human
as a part of nature

I can hear my footsteps

not as some machinery
at work but soft touch
on new grounds day in day out
when I actually listen

I can hear my footsteps

through all the noise
surrounding me
captivating me
when outside

I can hear

what is always there
as long as I

M.S.

Grown ups (English)

houses
little brick ones
will grow old
but never up when
staring
at the ground

there comes a time
when the bricks
must
bow
to constructions
who crawl towards skies
that only seem
a boundary

little did they know

memories of their birth
were never replaced
with new knowledge
of the here and now

honored though

once they were symbols
made of stone
after so many
of their allies
have been struck down
by the violence of war

once they were young too
now
they’re just old

observing
while the city’s evolves
and develops
and renews itself

there comes a time
when the houses
little brick ones
will fall into peace

their children
are scraping skies
before they tumble
down upon those
who paved the streets
who marked places
which say

‘here it’s best
to become
a grown up
growing old’

then they will know

evolution
is not about
the left cornerstone
upon which one builds

evolution
is about how much
free
space
one passes on
for the young grown ups

M.S.

Dear Carmen (goodbye letter by Don Giovanni)

For the Dutch original, click here.

Female voices-
I hear them saying while singing
That in reality
They are Sirens,
Created to
Tempt me
To shipwreck, I
The falling bird
Who rebelliously should
Indulge in freedom.

Female voices-
During this final
Consideration
I only hear them crow
And call for attention,
I only hear
Black doves- white ravens
Who thanks to my hubris
Placed me at the brink of
The abyss.

Female voices,
Dear Carmen,
Are the daggers- beware!-
Which will kill us-
Carmen-like they attract
In a corrupted way, only to
Stab us down
And to escape it
Is hope already
Flown-away.

Dear Carmen,
My final words
Contain the realization
Of us only loving Death-
Hear Death sing falsely,
Loudly announcing disaster,
As if a thief devouring
Hearts-
Death follows me,
Eating love for breakfast
Without something
To drink, blood maybe.

Dear Carmen,
Our game with other people’s
Desires
Shall be avenged on you and me,
Will burn us bleeding-
Also no word nor sword
Could save us,
Only then
White doves can for us weep
High above,
Before landing freely.

Hearts of men,
Dear Carmen,
Are after all faster
Blacked because of
The blind hunt for lust-
The legacy of Casanova,
Which will infect
Every man, every fool
Eventually.

Hearts of men-
The considering concluded:
Every woman can
Be fallen for,
But with ‘sufficient love’
All is put to words
Way too soft-
We can’t do less
Than fully destruct,
Regretfully, I too
Am marked.

Hearts of men-
Hear them saying while singing
That in reality
They are divine
Sons of Ares,
Toreadors just to
Please you
With their strikes of pain, I
The struck-down bull
Who has to celebrate freedom
During his fall to the ground.

A regretful farewell
Yet with love, yours sincerely,

Don Giovanni.

M.S.