My heart beats so fast
Every time I think of you
I long to hug and kiss you,
But I just can't do.
My body grows cold,
Yet I don't want it to end there.
Knowing you are afar
Leaves my heart in despair.
Let me kiss thy lips,
And feel thy loving hugs.
Let me hold your love,
My love, Gunther.
¦¦¦ the ¦¦¦¦¦¦ French depart
Like ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ Bonaparte,
Swarming ¦¦¦ with ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ venomous vitality.
Over ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦ Brighton and Bulgaria,
¦¦¦¦ violating Belgian neutrality.
¦¦¦ the injured Prussian may
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ say
"Why, ¦¦¦ be so small a nationality
Since ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦
Bolivia and Belgravia,
Are bursting with ¦¦¦ Belgian neutrality."
By ¦¦¦¦ Alliteration
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ trace this curious nation,
¦¦¦ respect this ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ scattered Principality;
When you see a B in Both
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ take your Bible oath
You are violating Belgian neutrality.
(Blackout of The Latest School by G K Chesterton)
We were once two lovers,
Who keep on falling deeper in love.
Despite the distance far between us,
Our love grows stronger, intense, enough.
Two hearts, moving in one rhythm,
Every beat gently written within.
On a cold night,
By winter’s pale touch in Belgium,
Our bodies’ warmth dances
In the lyrics of passionate love.
Oh, when you kiss me,
I feel fire on my lips.
I love that tender press
Pulling me into your hips.
I open my eyes,
We lay bare on the floor.
Our bodies close,
Our souls colliding
In a breath we shared
Without restraint.
As I touch your pretty face,
I feel romance growing deeper still.
You pull me closer, hold me near,
Our bodies answering love’s will.
We move toward a union of souls,
Where love needs no name.
In the hush of this cold Belgian night,
We found a communion of desire and flame.
Now we know this love is real,
A love that’s meant to last.
Gunther and Grace—
A story of intense love,
Written in the past,
Living in the now,
And promised in the future.
Spanish Violinist, living as Belgian,
Using the Italian for his collective nightmare:
The Ignored, Disposable Humans who make music
Even after the Nazis, "I Silenti"
It's impossible to step outside of alcohol.
It's like finding a new road map, curious and invigorating,
Until you wake up to the old, brighter consciousness.
The binging of drink is Life Immobile.
The non-creative dream-state of
Fools and heart-ache.
I write such a thing in such a state.
Art in rum and Belgian beer.
Art with chamomile and wounded cheer.
Art underground and minted and cold.
Art in heaven with cellulose toes.
Art in art with hearts and charts.
You get the picture. Of a car.
It's just a bunch of parts. On the ground.
You make your shape and I'll make mine.
You stay sober, I'll get the wine.
We're all swimming together anyway,
Some just smile as they drown.
Others breathe, wearing a frown.
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