Category: writers
I refrain from commenting, Cheers!
Drøm sødt
sittin in the morning sun
I’ll be sittin when the evenin come
watchin the ships roll in
then I watch them
roll away again…..
(Otis Redding: dock of the bay)
I’m sittin at the dock of a bay
watching time
rollin away…
Whistling my way out of a sunday so blue:
I’m rereading Steinbeck’s Tortilla Flat
in order to understand
myself
maybe.
I’m listening to
Rickie Lee
Jones
to may (it) be make
sense to my self.
Do you like it like that?
But I am as always carried away by her scats.
And, yes I got the boogie in my socks too!
And now the…
the woody&dutch situation enfolds
right in front of you
I read Nelly Sachs: Glühende Rätsel
glowing miracles.
Und die Farbe NICHTS sprach mich an:
and the color nothing talked to me:
Du bist jenseits
You’re dead already.
No, I’m not.
I stirr misunderstandings
hurting back to me.
But maybe I just do so because
I feel misunderstood by life.
Good Night America!
Oh my funny Valentine, drøm sødt
it is unfotographable
but I’ll give it a try.
May your night be shining sweetly
upon you dreaming!
Before we get into Coolsville again,
before we go into Nelly Sachs,
Jewish princess of the poems,
a voice so softly hurting,
before we go there
let me tell you this:
that
I adore.
And nothing but swet dreams is I have to offer
to
you.
Let me spell out
Clarice Lispector to you
and Alfred Döblin
and Dylan Thomas’
ballad of the long-legged bait.
Under the sea
and under its whirling
I see you now:
the beauty of doubts you are.
(We belong together and
Last Chance Texaco and Coolswill
are on my Jones list too: )
Before I start gettin back to
Nelly, that poisonous queen of poems.
let me
introduce you to
Coolsville:
Before I start writing my novel
which can happen anytime soon,
let me trance-late Nelly to you:
Let me describe now
the Blitzkrieg raids of my lovin
Rickie Lee Jones again she said so.
lucify me now!
Lou C Fair.
Let us swim in
an ocean of words
not Nipponese.
Let me tell you how
I wanna be read by you.
Stressing out delightful pain,
pointing out marvelous distress.
Hope you guess my name
and what’s puzzling you
is the nature of my game.
You can call me Lucifer.
And what’s puzzlin you
is the name of my game.
Are you still, as much as me,
afraid to die and go and leave
the people who love you
behind?
Are you still like me
afraid to die and
does not Epicurus’
words soothe you:
When death is around you will not be anymore?
The devilish diabolos
is cuckooing round the corner
so I’ll better start this shit
right way.
Drøm sødt!
———————-
a good spoken obituary
dithyrambs & ditties 