Τρίτη, 31 Αυγούστου 2010

Hyperviolet Side.


There's a blue light coming through the windowpane
A blue light that calls my name
I can hear the sirens' whispering wails
Behind the smiling fluorescence
There's a blue light and it knows where I lay
And it creeps through the cracks and the holes
And it spreads like a carpet of souls
Right under my door.
There's a blue light dripping down on me when I'm sleeping
A blue light that tastes like the sandstorms of the South
I can smell iron on the bedsheets -and something else
And there's a hum coming from the chimney.
There's a blue light and it knows my secret name
It flows with my breath and blankets my heart
It is cold like the wastelands up North
And it's tight like tongues intersecting
For the very first time.
There's a blue light in my shadow at night
A blue light that scares the stray dogs away
The lamplights turn cobalt when I blink
I don't know how I know
And the sidewalk ahead is always empty.
It blends with the water I thirst for
It seasons the food when I starve
It flavours the smile when I'm weeping
And yet whispers it loves me.
There's a heavy blue light on the back of my neck
A Prussian Blue light that smells of stale almonds
And it hugs me so tight, it drowns me so sweet
That my screams only come out as moans.
There's a blue light right behind my eyes
That turns black when I play with my veins
And it claims me, for better, for worse
A blue light that riddles the Endtimes
And spreads wide the Sphinx of its sex.
There's a blue light at the rim of the trigger
And it heaves the merciful barrel away
Sometimes it sounds like laughter
Sometimes it sounds like despair
And once upon a time
-I don't know how I know-
Anywhere but here
It used to be both.

6 σχόλια:

  1. Τώρα να πω, πως αυτό το επαναληπτικό μοτίβο στο ποίημα δείχνει πολλή αλήθεια...το λέω.

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  2. Δεν έχω ιδέα, αλήθεια. Δεν ξέρω ποτέ τι γράφω, τα διαβάζω μετά από κάποιο καιρό, λίγο ή πολύ, και καταλαβαίνω σε τι αναφερόμουν.

    Δεν είναι πολύ χρήσιμο, αλλά ούτε οι φωτογραφίες είναι.

    ΑπάντησηΔιαγραφή
  3. Είναι χρήσιμο αθροιστικά και μακροπρόθεσμα, αν κρίνω εξ' ιδίων.Θα μου πεις, άλλες ψυχές άλλες λάμψεις.Όμως αν το μπλε φως σου γίνεται έστω για λίγο δικό μου, ε τι να πω, μάλλον αλήθεια θα΄ναι.Κι επειδή έχω χαμηλά επίπεδα σεροτονίνης κάποιες μέρες,(όχι νοσηρά άλλα υπαρκτά),οι λέξεις και οι στίχοι είναι το placebo μου.Για τον αναγνώστη, υπάρχει σίγουρα χρησιμότητα:)

    ΑπάντησηΔιαγραφή
  4. Hyperviolet Side.
    An educated Light oh ερημίτης blogui


    There's a blue light coming through the windowpane
    A blue light that calls my name
    I can hear the sirens' whispering wails
    Behind the smiling fluorescence
    There's a blue light and it knows where I lay
    And it creeps through the cracks and the holes
    And it spreads like a carpet of souls
    Right under my door.
    There's a blue light dripping down on me when I'm sleeping
    A blue light that tastes like the sandstorms of the South
    I can smell iron on the bedsheets -and something else
    And there's a hum coming from the chimney.
    There's a blue light and it knows my secret name
    It flows with my breath and blankets my heart
    It is cold like the wastelands up North
    And it's tight like tongues intersecting
    For the very first time.
    There's a blue light in my shadow at night
    A blue light that scares the stray dogs away
    The lamplights turn cobalt when I blink
    I don't know how I know
    And the sidewalk ahead is always empty.
    It blends with the water I thirst for
    It seasons the food when I starve
    It flavours the smile when I'm weeping
    And yet whispers it loves me.
    There's a heavy blue light on the back of my neck
    A Prussian Blue light that smells of stale almonds
    And it hugs me so tight, it drowns me so sweet
    That my screams only come out as moans.
    There's a blue light right behind my eyes
    That turns black when I play with my veins
    And it claims me, for better, for worse
    A blue light that riddles the Endtimes
    And spreads wide the Sphinx of its sex.
    There's a blue light at the rim of the trigger
    And it heaves the merciful barrel away
    Sometimes it sounds like laughter
    Sometimes it sounds like despair
    And once upon a time
    -I don't know how I know-
    Anywhere but here
    It used to be both

    ΑπάντησηΔιαγραφή