Saturday, 16 February 2013

The Cross Roads

The mist comes nightly and drips onto the Cross Roads where 
the Cave-Dweller has laid down his stones.
There is a Wretch who strangely enough comes waltzing by
and with his vinegar lips he wants to teach the Cave-Dweller something of cordiality.
With the next earth rotation the Prehistoric Postal Agent makes his appearance
and at once the Carillon begins to chime.
"I also want to be heard. What ever happened to listening?!"
The Prehistoric Postal Agent says "You are too sober – 
let us drink a toast to more drunkenness!
You will see the firmament more clearly."
Someone knocks on the door – the Cross Roads
now more clearly visible under the clearer firmament – 
the Anarchist walks in and takes out his world expo
from his rucksack and in a blitz of words
he tries to convince the Cross Roads to cross at another place.
With shocked eyes the Cross Roads looks up to the clear firmament
and wonders "How the hell am I going to do that?"
I yell "We are not we without the Cross Roads! 
Where will we meet in the future?!"
The Loner suddenly appears, moving to the side of the Cave-Dweller.
He recommends that "You have to start to think heliocentrically" – 
a bit of sun-worship won't do you any harm.
You might become blind but who wants to see anyway if you can feel?"
The Wretch stands up and smears his mouth on his sleeve
"I am going, I need to go water my futility."
"No come back!" shouts the Cave-Dweller "with the conclusion of the next lunar revolution we will send you an army of occupation so that you can take over the world
and supply everyone with new birthing ground."
The Carillon wonders silently by himself "How am I going to ring in thís era?"

2 comments:

  1. these greener grass parables are fantastic, and by nature of things as they are, I read them in descending order 3 to 1 and then they really made sense ;-) I stand on green grass in a "heidinse" land and greener grass is green but it is not the green that gets you, you heart gets torn to shreds if yous tand in green grass especially if your heart and soul are made of dust, but like olden times the dust either blows away, never to return or binds with the moisture from the green grass forming something of an abomination of a mud beast that is neither green nor brown and we dream of the mauve grass, sometimes even of the multicoloured hues and sights and smells, but like before we return to the point where we last stood staring into the same sun, albeit a little earlier or later in the day, the same sun, the same moon, heartless and torn into pieces we ahve to hold what is left and guard that we are not sent into the abyss .. Just saying .. btw your poems are UberFantasties especially as seen here on top of the green

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  2. hey marko, thanks for the comment you jotted down from your green side! i like it that you read these 3 poems back to front. they do not have to follow on top of each other. they can even be read on their own singularity - they don't even have to be read in context of the other cross roads poems. I like the way the the different characters in the poems return.. when I am writing the lines for the characters it is really they that speak, and not me. this means that they often surprise me. I like that. it keeps me on my toes .. keep your eyes open for more of these cross roads (-;

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