You made it there somehow

and you're a big girl now...

now I understand how it is possible
to have loved
and then see each other again at court
bitter words and nothing left
tears of rage
eyes lost

mhhhh. see what you can do
i can make it through
you can make it too

so I will pack and go to the big city again
leave the farm and the kid behind
there, behind the big old house with the billy-goat, with his big horns and the bumblebees
go to where the desperate reside
in big grey masses
bringing light into the confusion
with some love and sound
while you leave your dreams somewhere
that once belonged to us
you laugh so cold now
about all that, say it's lost
and what you whisper at night now is
you're right
none of my business
no more

i know where i can find you
ohh, in somebody's room
it's a price i have to pay
you're a big girl all the way

time is a jetplane it moves too fast
oh but what a shame that all we shared can't last

I was less great than expected
ruining the good that was left
the best girl for all your heart and time
now at the brink of turning bitter
how could i forgive such a travestie,
how could i possibly find back
i am only looking forward now
with rage in my heart
ready to conquer and kill
glistening darkness at my fingertips
lost all touch


i can change i swear
see what you can do
i can make it through
you can make it too

...

like a cork screw to my heart

not yet

no words yet
really
to grasp what is happening
in front of my very eyes

i am so far
and so near
from and to
anywhere

when i hear your voices
i remember and recall
and want to jump in the red chevy
and listen to some puerto rican reggae
run into the ocean or ride down Marguerita Avenue
with the sun and the wind in my hair

but now it is the thick green
that holds me captive
the quirly swirly sounds of the creeks
the crows in the cloudy skies
the rolling hills dancing with thunder

i've seen it all

and the music remains the same

'i hear the clock tick'

stick to it

He sang them, in all kinds of ways, sometimes he would deny them, sometimes he would bring them up out of the blue, sometimes he would piss you off, showing no care.
He might have seemed pathetic and pitiful at some point but as he went through he came through, slowly but surely, until not only he but also the rest of the world believed it.
Wounds healed over time or so it seems. The frames that contained them still look pretty impressive but sometimes he can't help but destroy them with one big stroke, smashing them, shattering them, enraged that they are the invisible anchor to memories that are gone.
But so we all keep going. In my cage behind glass windows I watch the grey street morph into a liquid stream of lead, telling stories of yet another life in slow motion.
People still cheer him on, scrambling for the shattered pieces of old picture frames.
And I am so far away from anything, you are safe behind seven veils and songs become songs, valid in themselves, and whatever emotions flooded through me just kept on flowing and left me stranded at some moon filled bay without compass or sense.
Sometimes I think that maybe we just loved him, that our love reflected off this big full moon and when it declined we left, sucked into the black that hid all that was ours. This thunderstorm swirled me in outrageous spirals and spit me out at some sidewalk in Berlin where everything seems so calm and people hurry but they can't hurt me.
And my love is not fazed nor faded, it lingers in the midst of unspoken words and lies, in melodies too sweet to bare and naked dreams that fill your night mares.
I do not understand anything that is happening to me nor to you, I just feel how the oceans and mountains and plains and timezones separate the anguish from pain.

faint

I almost fainted today.
At first I thought it was just a stolen progression. The sound was so faint. Something that worked well before has the fate of being used, abused, re-used all the time by all the copy cats out there.
Then I realized, that the sound bricks falling through the air actually hit me and since I am made of clay I burst into pieces, all shattered on the floor. But for a milli second, nothing moved. It was, as if the broken splinters hung in mid air for a slice of eternity and the key turned, unlocked the door, the door swung wide open and memories flooded in, steady, fast, like the stream behind my parent´s house in spring time.
We were just looking for food for tonight. Innocently. Being HERE, in the here and now. Enjoying home. We will sleep in a `Jurte´, a Mongolian kind of tent with a whole in the middle where the firesmoke can escape. Me and my old, old scout friends. I haven´t laughed like that in a long time. We were joking and we had fun. I feel safe and home and seen and understood around them because they know me so damn well. The way I like myself best.
I forgot, that you know me the way I like myself the best and the worst. You brought the best and the worst out in me. I stumble. I fall. Then I remember...
It WAS that song. It really was. Lay Lady Lay. Bob Dylan in one of the biggest whole sale stores in a little provincial town in the Black Forest, Germany, probably on the radio, a very unlikely coincidence that made my will crumble and my knees weak. It was annoyingly so but very typically, not loud enough, the elevator or supermarket kind of volume that drives me crazy every day. But almost magically it seemed as if the volume turned up just for me, as I got drawn in, listening attentively. Every single line. Every single instrumental move. The sound. The words. The meaning. My meaning. My memories. My love. My life. All I went through.
You.

Asian Groove Again

There is no other title for this post.
This is the end of the road.
The snake who eats her own tail, gobbeling it up in slow motion.
There we stand again. In the rain. Trickeling slowly down, softly softly, falling on the windshields, creating patterns similar to those of Aboriginal Paintings in Australia.
Do you still feel that way? he asks. Like, you can't be in love, can't have a boyfriend, can't be a girlfriend.

Asian Groove Again. Terian Gulabi Buliyan by A.S. Kang sings. Tags: Bhangra, Punjabi, word, desi, south asian roots. Similar Artists: Bally Jagpal, Bally Sagoo, Baldip Jabble, Jazzy B, RDB

As if I could say something to this. I cringe I flinch I try to hint. Find a way. They say women use 20 000 words a day. I am at my limit. Does love really make that blind? That you can't see. Didn't you know? No. You just stuck around. You were in love with me and you just waited it out. And to my great anger and frustration all those people seemed to be right. It wasn't forever, not that I would have even dared to think that but certainly I feel how my innermost hopes got raped.

He stuck around. There we sit in the car with this amazing rain lulling me into escape, my dear friend, sleep.
It was such an amazing evening. It was perfect and I wish I just could fall in love with him.
Wouldn't it be perfect to fall in love like that?
Gypsy Gypsy gone, next please.
As if it would be that easy.
Something tells me that if I wanted it would be easy.
Quit apparently I don't want it.
And now Bob Dylan sings 'Living the Blues'.

Let's go and live the blues, come one, now, come on, forget the Asian Groove

And so it did happen like it could have been foreseen,

'you don't love me like you loved me before'

nothing but soundwaves, billowing and wafting through the thin air, hitting me in slow motion, winding their way up into my brains. into the convolutions of my conscience. trickle into the bloodstream, ever so slowly, tickeling nervous ends of raw nerves, poisoning my heart only almost, scratching at the concrete surface of the walls the protection service has erected not long ago. like before? no?
it hits me slowly like smoke spirals hugging my neck ever so softly, remniscing of filigran silver necklaces that I never got.
maybe I should have run into the bathroom and look him straight into the eyes when he said that he still wants to do 'all these things'
such as defeating dragons and solving riddles
such as being healthy and going to try and do everything to be with me and grow with me
where ever

you can get it, if you really want...
but you must try
try and try
try and ... the kingdom will come and it will be yours
not rife with 70 virgins, alas, but it will be yours, complete with me maybe and that might be just too much
oh yes, i do like fairy tales. it's like he and his songs... they can teach you a thing or two.
maybe I should have looked into his eyes
say: ...
say: ...
say: ...
say: ...

see, words, still lacking and a body convulsing in the death pangs of a premature birth of future. communication in love but not so eloquent. tonight belongs to passion and lust and despair and insufficiencies. to yesterday's knowledge and wisdom and tomorrows explosion of fantasy's dream.
tonight belongs to the king and the queen tumbling into pieces.

"And so it did happen like it could have been foreseen,
The timeless explosion of fantasy's dream.
At the peak of the night, the king and the queen
Tumbled all down into pieces."

In the morning we picked up our blanket from the battleground of mystery and fear and near. pulled the pants and sweaters and hair neatly into position. left yet another nameless motel room behind, like in the good old days except for this was a last day.
Leaving I felt how some song lines shooted through my veins like once heroin and other enemies shooted through his, likewise trying to forget but being haunted. It felt as if recognizing a situation, an obscure kind of deja vu that had it's twin in a song instead of in a dream like reality:

"The lover who just walked out your door
Has taken all his blankets from the floor."

Outside the parking lot I crept into his arms, shivering in the pale winter sun and brisk winds kissing our wounds from a raw night. In the car we listened to our old songs and I caught his smile, unconditional, for a second and free or so it seemed. It was a kiss of smiles, mine meeting his in a wild, laughing embrace, riding on the storm of momentary purity.
Oh, oh, gypsy gone, gone, gone gypsy gone.
'I can go wherever I want to go. And I have nowhere to go'
'They are not my family, I have no family, you are my only family'
'my cousins and I'
'i will never be able to be with anyone that's just how it is, it will always only be us'
'I do what I want'
'If it doesn't work out in Missouri, can I come back and live with you?'
'what if I just come back? you wouldn't let a naked baby lie in the curb now would you?'

I want you to come back as a man I said slowly.

-------------------------------

(the next day I asked him whether he thought it was a mistake that we had met again and he thought i was talking about sex.
I was talking about the sin of love's false security)