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Verona BeachEscape this world 03 June thingMy favorite thing, or at least one of my favorite things, is when we hug and she cuddles and puts her head under my chin, cheek to my body, looking upwards, and I put my arms around that head and in doing so lock up that little head of hers in my little pool of love and abundance. I stretch my head out to her and give her little kisses on her cheek, and she says she feels completely safe. That’s how I want her to feel, always. 05 April Girl and the Geese - CocoRosieThere was a girl who talked to geese. She understood them and they her. One day she looked to a crystal stream. and saw in it’s bed a diamond. She picked it up and placed it in her hair. She did so...She...As she did so, she turned to the geese. It was then revealed that the other geese she magically had understood, were once human like her. 10 March what if'sWhat if it means nothing? All of it? What if the reason I’m all out of words is because I have nothing left to say? What if it’s all used up? What if I’m wrong? What if there is no solution whatsoever, and humans aren’t born sweet and innocent? What if we’re corrupted to the bone, and prejudice and injustice will always stay with us, and grow bolder and bigger? What if I keep doubting? What if I won’t shake this off tomorrow? What if I acknowledge that I’ve been feeling like this for some time now? What if I really am losing my idealism, my hopes and dreams? What if I am being corrupted myself? What if some part of me wishes he could just agree with whatever the hell they’re saying? What if I am getting tired of the fighting and arguing? What if they’re right?
Fucking hell. 27 January Notice Of Eviction - Saul WilliamsSomething is dying tonight. There will be no more breath and no more light. I've burnt every candle and extinguished every fear. And I've waited for your time to pass to bring in my new year. Something is dying tonight. There will be no more struggle, no more fight. And I've known that I'd have to live through suffering and you. But I'm the landlord of my dreams, now, and my tenants rent is due. Something is dying. Something is dying inside of me. Inspite of me. Something is dying tonight. My old patterns off to Saturn, taking flight. And the astronaut within me has no air supply at all. So he's plunging to the deep sea with no parachute to fall. Something is dying tonight. I can't eat and I can't sleep so I just write. 'Cause I wanted you to lean on to distract me from my feet. But my karma wheel chair rolled me out of bounds and out of reach. Something is dying. Something is dying inside of me. Inspite of me. Author of wind and change, phantom of the opera. Tenor of the octave range spews volcanic lava. Silent partner of the sun divests a world of interest. Sun retires, calls it a day and sleeps a hundred winters. Darkness echoes, thunder cries and waves ripple with laughter. Dolphins confuse sea and sky and now with the hereafter. Monkeys climb to tops of trees and call out to the children. Little girl awakes from dream as Elvis leaves the building. Down pour from the darkest cloud, accumulated tension. Flashflood from the third leaks into the fourth dimension. Shotgun rings across the plain, down goes another lion. Harlem church sings refrain, "we're marching on to Zion." 08 January "F*ck the poets of the past, my friend. (anonymous postsecret card)The only ones capable of describing 65daysofstatic are, of course, the guys themselves. This is poetry. This is their art. This is them. We grow up and we are learning all the time. Here is where you sleep. Where is where we’re driving today. This is the news. There are lies and these are half-truths and you have to work the rest out for yourself. This is want and this is need. The two are different. These are the words to the songs you know you know. These are the words to the songs you didn’t know you knew. These are songs with no words, but they are screaming. This is what blood looks like, and this is also how blood can sometimes look, and this is the taste of blood and this, this is how it feels to bleed. We get older fast. It was quick and relentless and there was nothing to stop it. This is you when you were small, in a photograph. This is you on your first day of school,, and this is that time we went out. These are just bits of you when you were 21 or 22 or 23. This is you as a statistic on a graph, and this is you as a number, and this is a graph that shows the lights will soon go out and we will have no more power and the world will change and all along we could have maybe stopped it. Never look me in the eye unless you mean it. Keep your secrets safe, they are your secrets. This is concentration and this is focus. This is how we bend for what we love. Here is nostalgia. Here is sentimentality. Kill them before they get you. This is what dance music sounds like. This is a beat, this is a band. Here are idiots dying for their art in your stereo. Here is a record shop, here is were dreams are kept after they are broken. This is how it feels to be one of the ten people shaking their heads to a band in an empty club. This is how it feels to be one of a hundred. This is how it is to be one of thousands. There are no more millions anymore, we are all split. The millions of the world are hungry and they are far from and because of this rich land. We’re responsible. This is how a guitar feels through your t-shirt. This is what drumsticks does to the hands. These are the lessons we learnt, and they were hard lessons, some of them, but we kept trying. This is the sum whole of another year, and this is how it feels when the drum kicks in. This is my debt, this is what I owe and were I stand and what I have, and this is my penance. It isn’t much and it isn’t someone else’s fault. Its how blame is dealt out. These are jus the cards you get. This is our history and this is our origin, and this is how we got here. This carries on. 11 November Wim Helsen - bij mij zijt ge veiligOmdat ik het nooit beter zal kunnen zeggen. Omdat het maar een opwarmtekstje is voor een performance die ik pas in februari ga zien. omdat ik het blijf en blijf en blijf lezen:
Wim Helsen.
Als ge mistroostig zijt en ge weet niet goed waarom. Als ge nog eens goed wilt lachen. Als ge van de wereld niet veel snapt, en van de mensen nog minder. Als ge niet krijgt wat ge vindt dat ge verdient omdat ze u niet zien staan, de idioten. Als ge op één hand kunt tellen de keren dat ge u het afgelopen jaar vrij hebt gevoeld en onbekommerd. Als ge de dingen kapot wilt slaan maar ge durft niet vanwege de gevolgen. Als ge angstig zijt voor vanalles terwijl ge vroeger dacht dat ge nooit bang zou zijn, voor niets. Als ge’t niet goed meer weet.
Kom dan maar bij mij. Bij mij zijt ge veilig.
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