Snow can wait, I forgot my mittens
Wipe my nose, get my new boots on
I get a little warm in my heart when I think of winter
I put my hand in my fathers glove
I run off where the drifts get deeper
Sleeping beauty trips me with a frown
I hear a voice you must learn to stand up for yourself
Cause I cant always be around
He says when you gonna make up your mind
When you gonna love you as much as I do
When you gonna make up your mind
Cause things are gonna change so fast
All the white horses are still in bed
I tell you that Ill always want you near
You say that things change my dear
Boys get discovered as winter melts
Flowers competing for the sun
Years go by and Im here still waiting
Withering where some snowman was
Mirror mirror wheres the crystal palace
But I only can see myself
Skating around the truth who I am
But I know, dad, the ice is getting thing
When you gonna make up your mind
When you gonna love you as much as I do
When you gonna make up your mind
Cause things are gonna change so fast
All the white horses are still in bed
I tell you that Ill always want you near
You say that things change my dear
Hair is grey and the fires are burning
So many dreams on the shelf
You say I wanted you to be proud
I always wanted that myself
When you gonna make up your mind
When you gonna love you as much as I do
When you gonna make up your mind
Cause things are gona change so fast
All the white horses have gone ahead
I tell you that Ill always want you near
You say that things change my dear
Never change
All the white horses
Friday, May 23, 2008
Monday, May 19, 2008
type writer
in sequim, washington, in an antique store i found a typewriter for five bucks. it got damaged on the flight back home to LA but it served me well during these eight months without home-internet access. i moved a while ago, to a new place, a sweet little guest house close to the beach and i found in my boxes a bunch of writings.
THE question only of course would be do you walk and take it all, or do you see me at all?
singing floats and floods
back home a robin is dying.
wings old and rusty almost forgotten there needs to be a winter too in the small, the big, the all.
where do you go when the winds are calling?
how do you feel, when you do what you don't want to do, like returning to the fridge like a guilt tripped teenager, dying in mirrors of false vanity
maybe rebellion, but maybe not. balance, maybe, forget me not
all we know is be where you are and be it good, so later too we'll
give all of us
in silence
always LOVE
.
THE question only of course would be do you walk and take it all, or do you see me at all?
singing floats and floods
back home a robin is dying.
wings old and rusty almost forgotten there needs to be a winter too in the small, the big, the all.
where do you go when the winds are calling?
how do you feel, when you do what you don't want to do, like returning to the fridge like a guilt tripped teenager, dying in mirrors of false vanity
maybe rebellion, but maybe not. balance, maybe, forget me not
all we know is be where you are and be it good, so later too we'll
give all of us
in silence
always LOVE
.
Sunday, May 18, 2008
the high life
Nina Simone remixed and re-imagined rolls through the soft sweet night in waves like the pacific ocean caressing the shore of my consciousness.
This is a letter to You, to you out there, to you who never really witnessed me in the whirling winds of high life but who always knew this.
This is a letter to You, my love, my love who is lost among the crickets and moon beams, the roses who ooze love with every breath they give.
I can't wait. Can't wait to paint this, drape words around it, permeate and penetrate it with the sounds, the sounds of creativity.
Freedom is calling me with its highest and lowest voice, my hips can't stop moving, swaying intrinsically intertwined with the rhythms of the night, the night of the high life.
This is the moment I love best, to look into the mirror in complete awareness of my clear sober mind that drinks sweet sweet wine, the wine of beauty of this life, of dancing until there is tomorrow. Oh, Nina. Yes, yes, yes, I sing. I say, let it loose, let it go, cautiously flirting with the possibilities of shifting earth plates and consciousness.
There is nothing I really want to say or can for that matter. Words just means of transportation for the vibrations that elate us and spiral us ever deeper, ever higher, yeah, yeai, ye.
Kissing sweet lips of rosebudded souls and dancing joining hands with wild spirits, the high life as it was and always has been and ever will be.
One day I know we will wake up to a new reality and start a new day with new rhythms, new directions and reflections and to this day shall we dance, not missing one beat to be fully equipped and prepared for our souls to aim, to fly, transforming into beautiful new beings, ever and ever again.
Another high life.
This is a letter to You, to you out there, to you who never really witnessed me in the whirling winds of high life but who always knew this.
This is a letter to You, my love, my love who is lost among the crickets and moon beams, the roses who ooze love with every breath they give.
I can't wait. Can't wait to paint this, drape words around it, permeate and penetrate it with the sounds, the sounds of creativity.
Freedom is calling me with its highest and lowest voice, my hips can't stop moving, swaying intrinsically intertwined with the rhythms of the night, the night of the high life.
This is the moment I love best, to look into the mirror in complete awareness of my clear sober mind that drinks sweet sweet wine, the wine of beauty of this life, of dancing until there is tomorrow. Oh, Nina. Yes, yes, yes, I sing. I say, let it loose, let it go, cautiously flirting with the possibilities of shifting earth plates and consciousness.
There is nothing I really want to say or can for that matter. Words just means of transportation for the vibrations that elate us and spiral us ever deeper, ever higher, yeah, yeai, ye.
Kissing sweet lips of rosebudded souls and dancing joining hands with wild spirits, the high life as it was and always has been and ever will be.
One day I know we will wake up to a new reality and start a new day with new rhythms, new directions and reflections and to this day shall we dance, not missing one beat to be fully equipped and prepared for our souls to aim, to fly, transforming into beautiful new beings, ever and ever again.
Another high life.
Friday, May 16, 2008
Tuesday, May 13, 2008
the cube
once there had been a cube. made of wood.
six sides, four options: yes, no, crazy, reason.
it had a story to it. it made it all the way to America, into your hand in your car, and yet maybe you never heard it: a friend of mine and i had traveled to many a foreign country hiking through the land on the quest for a life beyond consumerism and convenience.
a life, rife with adventure, beauty, surprise, efforts and rewards, and mostly, very very hospitable people and their breathtaking cultures.
every year we decided along the way to part for a couple of days in little groups of two or three people to go on adventures of our own.
in Estonia this friend of mine and I decided to go together. this time around, however, we wanted to be completely surprised by what might come so that we used a coin to decide which roads to take. and so we did and it took us on a breathtaking trip that has its whole own story to it. we were offered to take a sauna at a farm where we could sweat out finally all the dirt of the dusty roads, we were taken on a tiny little pathway that almost disappeared among the fierce growing of bushes and trees in the forest to a patch of rasberries which felt like a real reward after taking the inconvenient road that late in the afternoon.
finally we were led, by consistently flipping the coin, to an old car graveyard where a man lived who offered us not only a BED to sleep in, but also ice cream and a ride to the ocean in the morning. he would have even taken us in his little airplane that he had built, but we politely declined.
as much as all this has to sound crazy to you if you think of a world full of predators and ugliness, it wasn't like that at all and we felt safe all along the way, at least i did, and that even though this man of course asked me to marry him since he was so delighted that i could speak russian and all.
after this amazing adventure my friend made this cube for me, adding the options of 'crazy' and 'reason' because our flipping the coin had shown us how limiting two sides could be.
And then you took it away.
You said, life is against me, I can't leave you that cube. It will take you away from me'
So I let you have it, and I stayed, yes I even stayed longer than I thought I ever would and I guess you lost it or maybe you hid it somewhere in Orange..
I don't know if it was something like self-fulfilling prophecy what then happened or if it was all written down a long time ago or maybe this cube had magic powers that it excercised when it got cut off from me. But you took yourself away from me and now I am alone without cube, without you - leaving me only with my lessons learned.
Tonight you asked the unaskable, blunt, as it is, and when I flipped my chinese gold coin it said three times DON'T GO.
And even tho, I really would have loved to know, I knew it was right.
It is now me and the coin again. No options of crazy or reasonable actions. Just plain and simple: Yes or No.
And so it goes...
six sides, four options: yes, no, crazy, reason.
it had a story to it. it made it all the way to America, into your hand in your car, and yet maybe you never heard it: a friend of mine and i had traveled to many a foreign country hiking through the land on the quest for a life beyond consumerism and convenience.
a life, rife with adventure, beauty, surprise, efforts and rewards, and mostly, very very hospitable people and their breathtaking cultures.
every year we decided along the way to part for a couple of days in little groups of two or three people to go on adventures of our own.
in Estonia this friend of mine and I decided to go together. this time around, however, we wanted to be completely surprised by what might come so that we used a coin to decide which roads to take. and so we did and it took us on a breathtaking trip that has its whole own story to it. we were offered to take a sauna at a farm where we could sweat out finally all the dirt of the dusty roads, we were taken on a tiny little pathway that almost disappeared among the fierce growing of bushes and trees in the forest to a patch of rasberries which felt like a real reward after taking the inconvenient road that late in the afternoon.
finally we were led, by consistently flipping the coin, to an old car graveyard where a man lived who offered us not only a BED to sleep in, but also ice cream and a ride to the ocean in the morning. he would have even taken us in his little airplane that he had built, but we politely declined.
as much as all this has to sound crazy to you if you think of a world full of predators and ugliness, it wasn't like that at all and we felt safe all along the way, at least i did, and that even though this man of course asked me to marry him since he was so delighted that i could speak russian and all.
after this amazing adventure my friend made this cube for me, adding the options of 'crazy' and 'reason' because our flipping the coin had shown us how limiting two sides could be.
And then you took it away.
You said, life is against me, I can't leave you that cube. It will take you away from me'
So I let you have it, and I stayed, yes I even stayed longer than I thought I ever would and I guess you lost it or maybe you hid it somewhere in Orange..
I don't know if it was something like self-fulfilling prophecy what then happened or if it was all written down a long time ago or maybe this cube had magic powers that it excercised when it got cut off from me. But you took yourself away from me and now I am alone without cube, without you - leaving me only with my lessons learned.
Tonight you asked the unaskable, blunt, as it is, and when I flipped my chinese gold coin it said three times DON'T GO.
And even tho, I really would have loved to know, I knew it was right.
It is now me and the coin again. No options of crazy or reasonable actions. Just plain and simple: Yes or No.
And so it goes...
or so
tiredness is creeping in and a candle and keziah jones and a teddybear.
where did all this go? cryptic imagery just to disguise, real words lacking for lack of courage to defend.
well, laziness/lazyness could be a factor in all that, for going through the hassle to defend, explain (in the worst case) or rectify seems so overrated.
so what, whatever you think, be it. but that's exactly the problem, no NO, so don't BE it. i don't want to be that. i don't want you to put it in my face, your stupid judgement. your ideas and notions as to what will be.
i have to watch out, whom i share myself with. the sad lesson of a naive child growing up, of course, and such a reoccuring red thread in my life.
so funny, to think, that I would pour all this into here, black in white, in obscurity, risking the fact that you would read all this and take a picture in. allowing you to think whatever the heck you want to think.
in the end. i really just like marveling and amazement. the comfi dizziness and realtiveness of obscurity. there I am, with my smaragd (germand for: emerald) eyes, flaming into the sea.
not too long ago my dad told me that me too, i'd have to grow up at some point and so it is.
or so.
to stand my ground, to flucking roar in upset, fletch my teeth and sharpen my claws.
to risk a friendship? to risk hypocrisy to be laid to rest.
forgiveness, so stretchable a notion. a process that gets repeatedly interrupted by my inability to let go. clinging on to little bits here and there, maybe, one day, i could use them.
so yes, the leap of faith not only like jumping in new cold waters, but also shedding tears and skins to embrace a whole new layer, a little more close to the innermost peels of the onion.
aww, ah. what could i say. in all these meanigless words in disguise. what could i say to formulate without creating a formula, a stationary scratching into hard marbled stone. that i don't want what is. that i want it different, veiled up, diffuse, in obscurity? the sweet wafting of scents of another lifetime lulling myself into the belief that everything, in the end, is okay?
i have scratched, beaten, hit, bitten, screamed.
i have cried, sighed, smiled and frowned.
i have loved, lost, waited, found and seemingly let go and lost again.
and i can't get my mind off of you
or so
it seems
where did all this go? cryptic imagery just to disguise, real words lacking for lack of courage to defend.
well, laziness/lazyness could be a factor in all that, for going through the hassle to defend, explain (in the worst case) or rectify seems so overrated.
so what, whatever you think, be it. but that's exactly the problem, no NO, so don't BE it. i don't want to be that. i don't want you to put it in my face, your stupid judgement. your ideas and notions as to what will be.
i have to watch out, whom i share myself with. the sad lesson of a naive child growing up, of course, and such a reoccuring red thread in my life.
so funny, to think, that I would pour all this into here, black in white, in obscurity, risking the fact that you would read all this and take a picture in. allowing you to think whatever the heck you want to think.
in the end. i really just like marveling and amazement. the comfi dizziness and realtiveness of obscurity. there I am, with my smaragd (germand for: emerald) eyes, flaming into the sea.
not too long ago my dad told me that me too, i'd have to grow up at some point and so it is.
or so.
to stand my ground, to flucking roar in upset, fletch my teeth and sharpen my claws.
to risk a friendship? to risk hypocrisy to be laid to rest.
forgiveness, so stretchable a notion. a process that gets repeatedly interrupted by my inability to let go. clinging on to little bits here and there, maybe, one day, i could use them.
so yes, the leap of faith not only like jumping in new cold waters, but also shedding tears and skins to embrace a whole new layer, a little more close to the innermost peels of the onion.
aww, ah. what could i say. in all these meanigless words in disguise. what could i say to formulate without creating a formula, a stationary scratching into hard marbled stone. that i don't want what is. that i want it different, veiled up, diffuse, in obscurity? the sweet wafting of scents of another lifetime lulling myself into the belief that everything, in the end, is okay?
i have scratched, beaten, hit, bitten, screamed.
i have cried, sighed, smiled and frowned.
i have loved, lost, waited, found and seemingly let go and lost again.
and i can't get my mind off of you
or so
it seems
Sunday, May 11, 2008
fly on fly on
hard to fly on sometimes
even when you are a little wing
it's just as sad and hard to accept as the end of a really good song
even when you are a little wing
it's just as sad and hard to accept as the end of a really good song
Saturday, May 10, 2008
who
it's white and hollow
a cubicle shape
i don't know who I am anymore
concentrating on the little drops on the door maybe it's urine
maybe gold dust
moist from angel's tears, we don't know.
so you play the blues and I dance the night
there are shadows following me as I swing freely trying to just be in the stream of pulsing liquid music washing me down.
i don't know who I am anymore.
it's red, chinese, a little purse, reminding me of a caleidoscope of things
just don't know still who I really am
did I really walk all these steps? leave all these traces? make all this mess? draw all these nonsensical figures into the walking sand?
was I the little child who baked one afternoon to discover herself holding the steaming cookies on a plate, seeing herself from above, hovering under the ceiling?
was I the young woman who who lost her mind in a tango whirl into the black of the forest, far, far, in the hills?
was I your girl?
and who are we anyway.
I miss you. Miss you Kiddo.
a cubicle shape
i don't know who I am anymore
concentrating on the little drops on the door maybe it's urine
maybe gold dust
moist from angel's tears, we don't know.
so you play the blues and I dance the night
there are shadows following me as I swing freely trying to just be in the stream of pulsing liquid music washing me down.
i don't know who I am anymore.
it's red, chinese, a little purse, reminding me of a caleidoscope of things
just don't know still who I really am
did I really walk all these steps? leave all these traces? make all this mess? draw all these nonsensical figures into the walking sand?
was I the little child who baked one afternoon to discover herself holding the steaming cookies on a plate, seeing herself from above, hovering under the ceiling?
was I the young woman who who lost her mind in a tango whirl into the black of the forest, far, far, in the hills?
was I your girl?
and who are we anyway.
I miss you. Miss you Kiddo.
Friday, May 02, 2008
the edge
walking the edge
why does everybody know so much
i don't know anything
my brain is mush tears are gushing out, sputtering in all kind of directions
a swamp into which i willingfully sink offering my flesh to the mosquitos once again
why does everybody think so much
i can hear the echo of foot prints in the emtpy hallways of my mind
i think too much and too arbitrarily, letting my heart take me onto a rollercoster
too wild for me this swirling, caleidoscope of things
walking the edge
why does everybody know so much
i don't know anything
but that i feel like don quijote fighting wind mills tonight
and every other night i stand guard trying to defend a treasure
of immeasurable gold
defending the purity of a well
that may well have dried out
ever since
is it really that much asked for?
why am i doing?
why does everybody know so much
i don't know anything
my brain is mush tears are gushing out, sputtering in all kind of directions
a swamp into which i willingfully sink offering my flesh to the mosquitos once again
why does everybody think so much
i can hear the echo of foot prints in the emtpy hallways of my mind
i think too much and too arbitrarily, letting my heart take me onto a rollercoster
too wild for me this swirling, caleidoscope of things
walking the edge
why does everybody know so much
i don't know anything
but that i feel like don quijote fighting wind mills tonight
and every other night i stand guard trying to defend a treasure
of immeasurable gold
defending the purity of a well
that may well have dried out
ever since
is it really that much asked for?
why am i doing?
Thursday, May 01, 2008
the muse
I'm ready to run now, goosebumps, hair defying gravity and heart rushing: excitement takes me in a big swoosh, up the valley to the peak of this giant wave.
Let's go swimming again! Lets go!!!
Every seed will grow into something when you water it and let the sun shine.
In slowmotion footage you can see what actually happens: they tend to BURST into their new stage of being! Transformational! The Force!
I feel like bursting.
Let's go swimming again! Lets go!!!
Every seed will grow into something when you water it and let the sun shine.
In slowmotion footage you can see what actually happens: they tend to BURST into their new stage of being! Transformational! The Force!
I feel like bursting.
Tuesday, April 29, 2008
white
it's too white in here,
too clear, too black and white
no grey
it hurts my eyes
the windows to my soul
it's in this white that
i have to admit
that what probably hurts most
beyond all comprehension of ways of life
is the question
why
why did you throw it all away?
it'd leave anyone inevitably
with the stale aftertaste of a doubt
that permeates all wisdom
that I and you weren't worth it after all
that our love was something
that could be thrown away
I know I can't talk like this
but in white nights like this
I sometimes can't help myself
letting the demons in
letting them in
one more time
too clear, too black and white
no grey
it hurts my eyes
the windows to my soul
it's in this white that
i have to admit
that what probably hurts most
beyond all comprehension of ways of life
is the question
why
why did you throw it all away?
it'd leave anyone inevitably
with the stale aftertaste of a doubt
that permeates all wisdom
that I and you weren't worth it after all
that our love was something
that could be thrown away
I know I can't talk like this
but in white nights like this
I sometimes can't help myself
letting the demons in
letting them in
one more time
Sunday, April 27, 2008
Infinity
It's in the wee of the evening and with Leonardo da Vinci and the impressionists in mind I study the lazy waves rolling onto the fine sand.
There is grapefruit color and emerald, turqoise and golden, mingled all together in perfect patterns soothing my eyeballs. They have been hurting for too long.
Later, a henna tattoo artist covers my left wrist and the back of my hand with perfect geometry the scents penetrate my thoughts, I feel like clay, melting into my own body.
In my mind I stretch, all the way down to Chile, over to New Zealand, the easter islands and Hawaii and Japan and over to India, Madagascar. All the things, all the people, all the landscapes, birds, life.
It's a big world, this one, open one.
The other half of my brain stretches over the States, across the Atlantic ocean to the Canary Islands, Marrakkesch and Granada and finally bustling Europe, cold long Russia and suddenly up north to the calm, the peace, the quiet, the silence, the cold, the night.
I am not tripping but I try to feel it and I called you once, wondering whether I really would be capable of not ever calling you again, after this one more time. Maybe, I could, maybe I would, I don't know. It's like the last cigarette you never know when there is a weak moment, full of convictions, but maybe I could wait, just a little longer, just so I can run away with my eyes closed, hoping not to trip and fall, hoping not to run into the abyss again, hoping to make it to the airplane before it is gone and I trapped in my own longings and belongings and wrongings.
Like when I bought that coat, so beautiful, closing my eyes, handing her the card, letting her slide it, trying to instantly forget about that incident, hoping that I didn't overdraw, avoiding the bank, closing my eyes walking past it, hardly peeking onto the screen once I dared to look at the account statements.
I wonder, if I could. Just, run, away.
Hold my eyes, dripping of wild rebellious tears, deafening myself from the screams of my heart, just breathing really hard so I could make it, to the airplane, to the definite.
To the coast, to the shore.
To the sure
There is grapefruit color and emerald, turqoise and golden, mingled all together in perfect patterns soothing my eyeballs. They have been hurting for too long.
Later, a henna tattoo artist covers my left wrist and the back of my hand with perfect geometry the scents penetrate my thoughts, I feel like clay, melting into my own body.
In my mind I stretch, all the way down to Chile, over to New Zealand, the easter islands and Hawaii and Japan and over to India, Madagascar. All the things, all the people, all the landscapes, birds, life.
It's a big world, this one, open one.
The other half of my brain stretches over the States, across the Atlantic ocean to the Canary Islands, Marrakkesch and Granada and finally bustling Europe, cold long Russia and suddenly up north to the calm, the peace, the quiet, the silence, the cold, the night.
I am not tripping but I try to feel it and I called you once, wondering whether I really would be capable of not ever calling you again, after this one more time. Maybe, I could, maybe I would, I don't know. It's like the last cigarette you never know when there is a weak moment, full of convictions, but maybe I could wait, just a little longer, just so I can run away with my eyes closed, hoping not to trip and fall, hoping not to run into the abyss again, hoping to make it to the airplane before it is gone and I trapped in my own longings and belongings and wrongings.
Like when I bought that coat, so beautiful, closing my eyes, handing her the card, letting her slide it, trying to instantly forget about that incident, hoping that I didn't overdraw, avoiding the bank, closing my eyes walking past it, hardly peeking onto the screen once I dared to look at the account statements.
I wonder, if I could. Just, run, away.
Hold my eyes, dripping of wild rebellious tears, deafening myself from the screams of my heart, just breathing really hard so I could make it, to the airplane, to the definite.
To the coast, to the shore.
To the sure
Wednesday, April 23, 2008
Timeless Love Does Not Abide
Come, visit me sometime. My room is beautiful and soft and the sun shines through the door in the morning. I hear the birds, I feel the ocean breeze, come, visit me sometime, sleep in my bed, make a nest with your arms, in quietitude and calm in your heart. Build a tree in your imagination, sing a song and let the strings stroke our connection. Give me your smile and the glowing coal of your eyes, fill my room with laughter and scents of love.
This wheels on fire.
If your mem'ry serves you well
We were goin' to meet again and wait
So I'm goin' to unpack all my things
And sit before it gets too late
No man alive will come to you
With another tale to tell
And you know that we shall meet again
If your mem'ry serves you well
This wheel's on fire
Rolling down the road
Best notify my next of kin
This wheel shall explode !
If your mem'ry serves you well
I was goin' to confiscate your lace
And wrap it up in a sailor's knot
And hide it in your case
If I knew for sure that it was yours ...
But it was oh so hard to tell
And you knew that we would meet again
If your mem'ry serves you well
This wheel's on fire
Rolling down the road
Best notify my next of kin
This wheel shall explode !
If your mem'ry serves you well
You'll remember you're the one
That called on me to call on them
To get you your favors done
And after ev'ry plan had failed
And there was nothing more to tell
You knew that we would meet again
If your mem'ry serves you well
This wheel's on fire
Rolling down the road
Best notify my next of kin
This wheel shall explode !
This wheels on fire.
If your mem'ry serves you well
We were goin' to meet again and wait
So I'm goin' to unpack all my things
And sit before it gets too late
No man alive will come to you
With another tale to tell
And you know that we shall meet again
If your mem'ry serves you well
This wheel's on fire
Rolling down the road
Best notify my next of kin
This wheel shall explode !
If your mem'ry serves you well
I was goin' to confiscate your lace
And wrap it up in a sailor's knot
And hide it in your case
If I knew for sure that it was yours ...
But it was oh so hard to tell
And you knew that we would meet again
If your mem'ry serves you well
This wheel's on fire
Rolling down the road
Best notify my next of kin
This wheel shall explode !
If your mem'ry serves you well
You'll remember you're the one
That called on me to call on them
To get you your favors done
And after ev'ry plan had failed
And there was nothing more to tell
You knew that we would meet again
If your mem'ry serves you well
This wheel's on fire
Rolling down the road
Best notify my next of kin
This wheel shall explode !
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