SPIDERS ON THE CARPET

They’re hiding in the attic
they’re hiding in my brain
I swear I heard a sound
that I can’t explain

There’s spiders on the carpet
but on second thought
when I blink and look again
they’ve gone up in smoke

A shadow’s creeping
across the floor
and that scratch here on the wall
wasn’t there before

The darkness in the garden
sends shivers down my spine
like there’s something in the laurels
of the lurking kind

What’s the point of logic
when you can’t separate
the fiction from the facts
Is it real or imagined,
how will you know
if your mind puts you on the wrong track

What’s the point of logic
when you can’t separate
the fiction from the facts
it’s the the strange and the common
stirred to a blur
with your reason under attack

What’s the point of logic
when you can’t separate
the fiction from the facts
Is it real or imagined,
how will you know…?

OPEN ENDED

We had the superlatives
for a perfect future tense
Plot twist in our narrative:
that’s not how the story ends

Yesterday we were poetry
now we’re pulp, and nothing rhymes
This change came so suddenly,
should I’ve read between the lines?

Me with all my loyalty
I had written your name in gold
underlined and in uppercase
now a strike goes through it all

Couldn’t you come up with anything to say
you left it open ended
maybe you’re afraid of the typical cliche:
we’re on a different page

You are not the open book
that you’ve always portrayed for me
Or could it just be a case
of interpersonal illiteracy?

Couldn’t you come up with anything to say
you left it open ended
maybe too afraid of the typical cliche:
we’re on a different page

Guess I don’t fit in your storyline
but you wrote me off so easily
and while the ink was barely dry
you tore our novel to pieces

WE ARE WIRELESS

Hiding in transparent shelters
fashioned for the purpose to be seen
We are sending out a message
but the essence is confined by a machine

Eye to eye we are not alone
Heart to heart followed by unknown
One on one we don’t seem to mind
Our affairs are not our own

Quantify your style and values
making sure that every effort counts
Document all your endeavors
find significance in meaningful amounts

Eye to eye we are not alone
Heart to heart followed by unknown
One on one we don’t seem to mind
Our affairs are not our own
Eye to eye we are not alone
Heart to heart followed by unknown
One on one we don’t seem to mind…

Stripped of the empty excess
we are wireless
Reach me
without interference
There is a distance unless
we are wireless
Show me
what ones and zeros cannot express

Eye to eye we are not alone
Heart to heart followed by unknown
One on one we don’t seem to mind
Our affairs are not our own
Eye to eye we are not alone
Heart to heart followed by unknown
One on one we don’t seem to mind…

Stripped of the empty excess
we are wireless
Reach me
without interference
There is a distance unless
we are wireless
Show me
what ones and zeros cannot express

MONOCHROME

She sits quietly
behind the window, watching passers-by
on her side of the glass all colour’s drained from life

Nights and days are all the same
awfully equal and awake
life lingers on until the moment she will break

All she held onto fell away
’till there remained nothing left to say
no more comfort beside the lies we tell to soothe her days

Gold has turned to rust
and every line of silver has a cloud
a monsoon of misery is pouring out

There is no music in the monotone
no dance left in her brittle bones
no roses in her favorite cologne
all is monochrome

What she still remembers is a curse
– the treehouse, the smell of a freshly mowed lawn
sentimental feelings are the worst
– playing with her sister all day long
how she wishes that she would forget
– that the treehouse and her sister are gone
but dementia hasn’t kicked in yet
– her body is weak but her mind is still strong

There is no music in the monotone
no dance left in her brittle bones
no roses in her favorite cologne
all is monochrome

GLITTER OUT OF RAIN

When the summer sun’s had its glory days
and it faintly shines its weakening rays
it may appear all grace has gone

Skeletons and waste is all that remains
a song of sadness, threnody refrains
it seems as though nature comes undone

But when you look at it with different eyes
there is beauty in decay disguised
a renaissance rather than demise

A time of death, a time of sleep
whichever kind of feelings you translate
A spell of grief, a period of peace
it’s only in words how you relate

Crimson, chestnut, ivory and shades of champagne
all those shapes and textures, glitter out of rain
a work of art without the paint

See how the branches, delicate and pliable but strong,
can weather what the weather brings
until a milder season comes along

If you dread the summer’s bitter aftertaste
just remember autumn only is a phase
and although the warmth has gone, the wonder stays

HALF-WRITTEN SONG

I’ve been sitting here
while the hours disappear
a pen in my hand and a paper sky
a head that’s filled with images but nothing to write

So let’s start anew
from a different point of view
an unexpected angle, something not too trite
a rendition with a twist but it’s not quite right

What’s a masterpiece without the synergy
of metaphor and meter and a hint of simile
crafted so it consolidates
a multi-layered concept to which anyone relates

I lose myself in theory
detail and technicality
endless possibility
kills my creativity
and although my end rhymes are strong
what good is a half-written song?

Should I rearrange
this motif, should I change
violins to saxophone
melodious to monotone?

And I still have to decide
acoustic or amplified?
Questions scream in stereo
no wonder this is moving slow

What’s a masterpiece without the synergy
of metaphor and meter and a hint of simile
crafted so it consolidates
a multi-layered concept to which anyone relates

I lose myself in theory
detail and technicality
endless possibility
kills my creativity
and although my end rhymes are strong
who cares for a half-written song?

SILENCE AMIDST A CROWD

Like a leaf falling in spring
or a dead tree blossoming
when the snow covers all in white
it will be dark instead of bright

Like silence amidst a crowd
or a whisper that comes out loud
this is not where I should be
I feel misplaced, now I can see

This is all I ever wanted
but too long I dwelled upon it
Reached my aim but now i’m daunted
my fortune’s being shunted

DRIFTER IN A SNOWSTORM

The snow delays me
on my way forward
Forward into the place I go to

I’m stuck in slowmotion
without any notion
of distance and direction
where should I go to?

It’s not like this season
occurs for a reason
it’s just that
the frost’s not cleared up from last year

Make the white less blinding
and the light declining
and shatter this sky
of pole star lies
misguiding as they are

The snow delays me
on my way back
Back into the place I came from

STORMCHASERS

The stones that we walk on
across the stream
The river we follow
The drift within me
The danger that comes
With every step we take
but it pulls us closer
to the deep end of the lake

The acres of sky
that we steal
The birds without feathers
behind the wheel
An altitude
not meant to be
the ashen clouds
not what we see

The storms we are chasing
we can’t revoke
they’re blinding us with dust and smoke
in their dazzling appeal
there lies our fall
to tame the skies the seas and all
So we venture out into the deep
we’re climbing cliffs that are too steep
we are too naive to understand
we’ll never rule this land

AS FAR AS FREEDOM GOES

Eventide is setting in
as I traverse into nomansland
I dissolve in air paper-thin
solitude is calling me, so here I am
untethered

Some kind of free exile
every once a while
when I’m out of words to say
I’ll silently be on my way

Anyplace remote
excuse me from biscuits and porcelain
no arid monologue
These country miles
no-one’s coming close
as far as freedom goes

Flaming sky turns indigo
cloaking me in color blend camouflage
Sheltering in the afterglow
now you see me, now you don’t, I’m a mirage
elusive

Some kind of free exile
every once a while
when I’m out of words to say
I’ll silently be on my way

Anyplace remote
excuse me from biscuits and porcelain
no arid monologue
These country miles
no-one’s coming close
as far as freedom goes

THE SPECTRE AND THE SPOOKED

Lately I’ve been haunted by this being
but I’m not sure with who I’m dealing
there’s a voice that whispers without breathing
volatile – one moment here and then it’s gone

Frequently I’m taunted by this demon
psyching me, it’s so demeaning
Sinking low whenever it’s revealing
merciless, yet another flaw of me

What frightens me the most:
there is no ghost that can be banished
I suspect that I am both
the spectre and the spooked

All too well aquainted with this feeling
this character’s so unappealing
how I’ve tried to temper it with reason
dispiriting, my best is still not good enough

It terrifies me so
to know there is no ghost to vanish
now I see that I am both
the spectre and the spooked

What frightens me the most:
there is no ghost that can be banished
now I see that I am both
the spectre and the spooked
but who is in control of them two?