your streets
are the wrinkles
on your skin
that my fingertips
were made for
the doors
on each side of the road
and pavements I feel
touching the endings
of my limbs
are
mostly
unseen
untouched
unrecognized by me
yet
always there
as the keepers of secrets
I’m unable to read between
the lines that shift
the nude architecture
of you from random city view
to a never spoken body
language
I’m learning to speak
to understand
to get used to
in a daily routine
every single time I’m
trying to reach
something
I believe defines
the essence that makes you
you that makes me
want more of your dreams
told
with subtle silent whispers
sliding just around the corners
and curves and clouds
you’re covered in
your streets
turn me into one of many
vampires cursed and blessed
with an urge to manifest fangs
to make you bleed
to get drunk on life
to give you some back
to make you grow higher
than the skies I’ll grab when I
look up to you without a
desire
to leave
your landmarks and face
I only want to paint in words with
the tongue and lips I use to say ‘hi’
M.S.
Posts tonen met het label poem. Alle posts tonen
Posts tonen met het label poem. Alle posts tonen
maandag 13 juni 2016
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.
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.
Abonneren op:
Posts (Atom)