walking around Tallinn,
alone and thoughtful,
years of neglect touched my face
and my soul…,
I should’ve stayed
where the pain was,
abused knowledge of power
and nurturance,
the loud port sounds its hammer:
woot, woot!
I tremble in my old age,
the dresses of beautiful girls
give my senses a new meaning,
it means I’ve got company
at 2 o’clock in Hirve park,
leaves are rustling the Old Town,
dust pressed against the floor of history,
it was a fine day of incomprehension
and tension of light particles
dancing against my face,
the face of sheer disbelief,
that trust was earned
and love was shining in all,
places, faces, things and cars,
old me and mechanical things
using pull-and-string method,
like that one Heidi (last name redacted)
and our outlived relations.
It was a mesmerizing thing
of Beauty…, or was I gonna say
tantalizing -
it gives greed a foul name.
Port sounded another alarm,
I was in University…,
what city? - I can’t remember,
there were masters and slaves
of their craft: Beginners and
the End,
soon the beggars would come
out of their nests
and violently without any
heed or warning ruin our love making,
smell of Lemonnaja filled the room,
spaces, places and faces.
I crawled a thousand meters
on legs made of wood and weirdness,
Hotel Olümpia was staring down
on any body and living statue,
as a watcher of cosmic proportions,
their names were swapped,
scrambled by the god-head of
invisible forces…,
I saw your strangeness,
curious lines and curves,
colourful palletes,
I would use smart words,
to give a mouthful of my own
complexions…, it was not enough,
wind that came from the farms
turned silently caressing
before entering the Moskstraumen,
I read somewhere: also known as the
Lofoten maelstrom,
a system of tidal eddies
and whirlpools, I was perplexed,
cheek to cheekbone…,
your fine memorabilia
as your labia said any possible
reference,
and it was sweet,
sweeter than it should have been,
a Tibetan monk walked past us,
after that a bunch of Krishnaites
were trembling after violent cars
and their violent drivers,
stopping for no one,
hiding their insecurities,
lost in the crowd.
We were all travellers,
you were someone else,
see I told you so,
you would have said,
to rest my worries on an old bench,
after losing all context, time and space,
a conondrum of coherences,
later that night, it was night,
black August night,
sun cast its last shadow,
matter and anti-matter said hellogoodbye
and we were all tightly wound,
asleep like no other,
bound by secrecy and
the secretion of our never (always)
ending love, I should’ve stayed single,
like that german reich coin
I found with dad, who I now call father
or old man…,
I used to smoke, it cleared the head,
no it didn’t, but I say it still,
I used to drink and think
and shift from melancholy to
abysmal, now I just laugh,
and with pure joy,
I love it so much,
I never found it with you
and you and you and you
and you indefinitely,
no peace of mind, no soul,
no strong adherence to
the fucked up journey of ones self.
I say it not with disdain
or to reprimand some old sense,
I say it with gratitude,
even for the little and loud things,
controlling elements and units
in all my numerous relations,
glad to be a part…,
story to story to story,
Legends of the Fall,
it was a great movie,
maybe I watch too many movies,
maybe we all do…,
too many movies, music, books,
ideas, too many words and thoughts,
too much of any damn thing,
always flooding, always bloody,
your cycle begins.
Time of that month, a year,
my year…,
when everything was returned
thousandfold, I say: do not
go gentle into that good night,
actually it was Dylan who
said it…, with thirst in his eyes,
I guess, never saw him,
maybe if I was reincarnated
as someone close to him,
or maybe as him, but no,
I’m my own table of contents,
just have a lot of beauty
coming from strange sources,
my mystical behemoths,
art and other curious…,
can’t even finish a sentence,
I walked another mile,
kilometre, whatever,
happy to be alive,
all green is lost, it’s cold
and damp, I’ve always loved
Autumn and Winter,
their names remind me
of some witchy women,
gorgeous and spiritual,
I guess there’s another ritual
coming…,
guess all this living is…,
just another ritual.
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