In die dieptes van duisternis vind ek my pad,
Met 'n seer hart probeer ek die pyn weghou,
Deur die prisma van bottels probeer ek ontsnap,
In die arms van alkohol kry my hartseer vorm.
Met elke sluk verdrink ek my stille krete,
Maar die gevoelloosheid wat dit meebring, is 'n wrede vermomming,
In die amber gif soek ek skuiling en verligting,
Tog bind dit my stywer vas, wat net hartseer veroorsaak.
Die bottel word my troosmiddel, my vriend,
'n Bittersoet toevlug waar my probleme saamsmelt,
Maar die oggendlig openbaar die koste,
Terwyl ek worstel met die gevegte wat ek verloor het.
Samuel Calwell
an artist truth to tell
In stained glas wasto conserve
pieced together with meticulous verve
beyond this canyon
they sing a song
they know the lyrics
but they sing it wrong
they like there rendition
they get a thrill
they say the composer
he loves me still
beyond the sound
the octive matter
they bounce off the walls
the glas they shatter
with fine toned tones
they sound abroad
the music perfected
they thank Da Lord
people watching and waiting
to hear the part
they stumble the beganning
and have to restart
the organ playing
the pinano too
the trumpets sounding
I thought you knew
when the songtress
starts getting down
we hear the right on's
with the music sounds
We clap in woner
to hear what they'll do
the keep on singing
Yeah I thought you knew
then closer
our wagons near
they don't hear us
as we draw near
the crowd is happy
they stop and cheer
in the audeince
we stop to steer
ded by his need
to be successful
he retrieved the
knowledge of his past
to restore and maintain
his present.
he read the
"Dignity Recovery Act"
and studied it to refine what he thought
had been
to be what should be.
a present in a positive
definition
of realism.
"Accuracy of the Devoted"
was another written script he read
from start to finsh
only to diminish his own pride
" the induction to Reputation
described, but his knowledge
was denounced, from
every aspect of his
" Redemption"
to be at hand!
but
Early morning
his first thought:
A glass of Gin
A refreshing effect
Relationship of evil to
devil's medicine
One glas
becomes to three ... or five
The clock shows half past seven
in the morning
Mother and the children wake up
It's a new working day
and school for the three children
He hides the bottle
The brain is anesthetized
The glass falls,
crushed in the sink
He is completely unable to act
Fear and despair
Protects their children
Economic difficulties
The shame! - Oh ... that terrible shame
Mother was depressed
and was simply not
strong enough to leave him
19.02.2018
Sun :) - A-L Andresen :)
Ghostly foot Prints
There are ghostly foot prints of the past.
Graves not visited and no farewells.
Not knowing the resting place to say goodbuy.
There is nothing to cling to, no special item to put in a treasure chest.
Memories faded like pencil on the paper.
There is ghostly foot prints of the past and shady faces of reality long lost
Image of little hands
Clinging to a toy bear.
There was letters, but that is gone,
Lost years packed in a box.
If there was a map to where you rest,
With so many questions
and the tortured mind of never knowing the answers.
Unfinished business of the living and the dead can't speak.
I will have a glas jar filled with crave sand.
That is all you ever was,
A memory like a faded dream
In a glass jar, some where thats no where.
Locked in a box.
I care for you
I care for you ...
... 'cause you are,
'cause you are beautiful,
'cause you are holy,
'cause your voice is like water murmoring,
'cause your touch is soft as velvet,
'cause your glance is heavenly,
'cause your heart is God-fearing and shy,
'cause you love given the chance (to love),
'cause you are free like a poppy (flower).
... so simple,
so misterious,
the greatest art.
No more, no less,
I care for you ...
Rad te imam ...
... ker si,
ker si lepa,
ker si sveta,
ker je tvoj glas kot šum voda,
ker je tvoj dotik nežen kot žamet,
ker je tvoj pogled Božanski,
ker si podoba Boga Najvišjega,
ker je tvoje srce Bogabojece in sramežljivo,
ker ljubiš kot ti je dano,
ker si svobodna kakor makov cvet.
... kako preprosto,
kako skrivnostno,
najvecja umetnost.
Nic vec nic manj,
rad te imam ...
© Matjaz Grcar
LANTERNE PHRASIS 4
Art without a title,an ego
in relief of studied arrogance
in a broken mosaic ,awash
in blue&orange partitions,
dripping wet into wet,A
vision coveying joy,the sacred
blending with the secular,a
swirling forest of dreams of
shadowed illusions.This insight
through the looking glas,of a
hidden riddle where pain erupts
into an obsession,outlines encircle
the eyes.Face to face where despair
crushes love on the unknown path
ahead.There,night beckons &
tomorrow is another day,and
dreams fade out of focus.
From my Lanterne poetry publication 2005
Listen to me recite this part phrasis on youtube under my pen name ichthys chiro
understand and forgive my confusion
simply put, i just want you to stay
i wish i had the perfect formula for a lotion that prevents you from being so rash
reality chaps the skin more though
i slice a vein with glas from the door that brought us here
just yesterday we were splashing in the crystalline waters of Divine Fun
it only take a slight incision of a light poke to lacerate a scar that untraceable until the sensation is felt
santa claus also comes on valentines day
comprehend and visualize my wrapped delusion
simply put, i would like a happy ending to this play
i wish i had the proper blueprints for a heartbeat anvil that will accurately crush and smash
actuality really does make a merciless wind blow
Fallen im Wind
wenn der Herbst sie müde macht am Baume.
Durchsichtig, wie Stücke aus Glas,
ruhen sie am Ufer des Flusses,
haben ihre eigene Sprache.
Und, wie die Nachtigall ihre Lieder dem Wind anvertraut,
so erzählen die Blätter ihre Legenden den Wäldern.
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Falling with the winds
if autumn makes them tired in the tree.
Transparent, like pieces of glass,
when they rest on the shore of the river.
They have their own language.
And like the nightingale entrusts her songs to the wind,
the leaves take their legends to the woods.
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Caen con el viento,
cuando el otoño les decansen en el árbol.
Transparente, como piezas de vidrio,
reposen en las orillas del río,
tienen su propio idioma.
Y, como el ruiseñor confie sus canciones al viento,
así cuentan las Hojas sus leyendas a los bosques.
Etched
on glass-
reflections
of their love and
work.
Ekphrasis Hinter glas manerei By Munter & Kandinsky