Tides_Linger One

With Tides_ Linger One I reached the final destination of this book.

If you want to read Tides_Linger Two please join me in 

'DESEGREGATIONS'

Have a save journey.

Tides_Linger One

My head is light

weighted

my feet are heavy

loaded

Vertical tides

wherein my body

folds and stretches

and again and

Again

fingertips attracting toes.

The soil quivers scarcely

under the volatile stroking of my hair.

My left brow tickles my knee, my right one tries.

Increasingly unsuccessful

experimental performance.

...

It's all in the eyes.

 Dedicated to Elena and Paola for their unconditional support.

Silenced
observing the clouds
questioning 
my eyes to see
how powerful the sun is
behind that fleece.

Continuous search for
the presence
regretting
the absence
despite signs of life
in other environments.

no bricks in the wall
no grass behind it
only
sky
cloudless

Muted into sleep
the paper sliding door
as a through street
invites darkness.

Tempting endless eternity.

Dull | Bright
reflecting moods
It's all in the eyes.

Reflections on Guy's NonSense B'Day Party 2011 May 7!

Dear ALL!

Some party's leave you with a hangover, a real or/and mental one.

Some will stay in mind for years marked by a special moment.

Some are unforgettable because they were unique.

My NonSense B'Day Party 2011 belongs to the last category, at least for me.

And I know that some of my friends like me to quote some events ...so let me do this one.

'It was: ABSOLUTELY FANTASTIC'

Hope some pictures will show up...meanwhile I try to comment on people and facts.

Ana, at the other side of the American Continent: so far away and suddenly so close, I'm still flabbergasted, it was The Moment of my B'Day! I will cherish this to eternity!

We were almost calling him the I- (Mac)-rector now he will probably make history as the Rector Chef.

Thanks Andras & Judith.

It's clear that some of you want me to continue writing...well I will... using the utensils you were offering me.

Others don't give a sh... about my diet and think good alcohol will probably inspire my writings even more.

Some are apparently enjoying their private coffee breaks and gave me teas and coffees from the most exotic venues all over the world.

Most of you wanted to inspire me with nice comments, books, brochures and music.

Our Minister from Nicaragua and his wife want to see me smoke again and enjoy their local drink. Have to invite cigar smokers for a revolutionary 'private affair'

I'm I allowed to insert a different picture in the frame every week Mira?

Amila, as most of the time we understand each other pretty well I don't think I will need the Serb Croatian to Dutch dictionary a lot ...but you never know I start to write in another language... and maybe I can use it to communicate with Nicola when he teases me again...Thanks Nicola for hosting, your kitchen your toilet and your refrigerator and so much more...and to bring me home last night as a porter with all my gifts and presents..

Mira & Nicola et les autres we will have Chocofun pretty soon!

Benly I'm entitled to a virtual Mexican trip in that touristic envelope you gave me!

Captain Pisco! Future Minister of Marine and Other Naval Affairs, I will wear my decorations the day of your defense. Was not an order I got but a hint I suppose.

The three Musketeers + Aki... you are spoiling me as usual with thoughts, gifts and that album that will always be open on a page here in my room...so I can't forget you one single day.

Pato, Musketeer on duty to represent the other ones...wonderful to have you back here in town and around the whole weekend...If people are saying you always look the same at the pictures... well in a sense they are wrong and right...the fashion side is always different...the most beautiful smile... we don't want to miss thát one for a moment!

If suddenly, beautiful people,  you see new objects on my desk at the 'water thing'...they are all those smaller, bigger, light - and heavy weight objects that  I want to see permanently during the day...Caro, Jorge, Marielena ...you know what I mean.

Assiyeh & Stefania...pralines gone... (lucky me...both of you still there)... We, the Friday evening Dinner Club, couldn't resist the sweet temptation.

Did you all see, four of my best dancers ever reunited?... Diana, Helga, Marianna, and Stefania ...Elena Assoluta your spirit was there! Yes Ladies I promise: I will teach soon again!

Diana, Gianluca...I will read the book a.s.a.p...in need to cope with my mental suffering...thanks for helping.

I'm not sure Paolo Giordano's 'The Solitude of Prime Numbers' will help to forget your absence Maria Laura's but I will tell you when I finished the book.

There is still an unpacked present from Davide, but the meaning is that the mystery will be revealed later today in a Skype Video conference with some witnesses

Juancho, Pato, Saul, Nicola... the after party Tequila Night with some Nicaraguan Cigars... be prepared!... this coming Wednesday.

Alida thanks for the logistics., Jonathan also. And also a big thanks for the late cleaners!

Maca & Alida...so sweet you are guessing my clothes size is medium but I think you are over estimating my diet capacities at this moment ;-)

No Jenn...I don't forget you, My eternal DJ woman, pearl of Africa! Life saver in due time. I give you DISTINCTION!

Joanna, there is a whole in your shoe? Well there is one in my pocket!

Juliette & Yared... Did you solve the problem of Old and Wise...I did... I'm neither of them!

Ana, Assiyeh, Catherine, Elena, Maria Pasqual, Paola, Vero, we, I, could feel your presence the whole night, I send you my most warm feelings.

And to rest of the crowd....I can't address you all separately...but you can be convinced that every time I will cross you somewhere in the Institute's building or one day in your own country I will remember that you were there to share that unique moment with me. Thanks a lot for coming, bringing food, drinks, a good mood (Angélica!) and so much more.

For those who couldn't come, we, I missed you.

It was as I said at the beginning... ABSOLUTELY FANTASTIC on Day Ten that my mind mourns a dissolved friendship. 

Always yours,
Guy. 

AVOWAL

...a confession of hurt thoughts...

<<< Please read the notes page About AVOWAL  for commentation and explanation about S.A.D.

A runner delivers disorder
-repressed expected fear-
Therapist says 
-expected fear-

Earlier ordered disorder
-date can't be established-
My body hosts
the event.
My mind mourns
another dissolved friendship.

My living hell -
it's S.A.D.
it's sad.
Incoming sound
mutates into
rumbling marching boots
causing
rattle.

My conscience gasps
for penance in an
ultimate act of
self destruction.

A runner delivers sadness
-suppressed expected dolour-
Therapist says 
-expected dolour-

Consciously injuring my mind
my yells are made of distress
and fear for loosing
again and again
on the road to
main destination |Pain|

drop-off

Silence

sounds

like a hum

I wanna prick

with a needle to

burst

till it stops droning.

Longing for the stillness

to  outburst

a name

echoes back and slash me down

loosing equilibrium

dizzy Eustachian

rocking knock tingles

cheek|heart|body

reaching my soul.

Mechanical gull enraptures memories.

Road to nowhere

One way ticket to|o| far away.

Destination reached.

FYI

We regret one casualty;

Passenger lost above desert.

Tout simplement de l'eau.

For the full English translation please read the page: About 'Tout simplement de l'eau.'

"Je voudrais t’apporter du café, et des gâteaux et de l'eau, tout simplement de l'eau."

Prendre le tram jusqu'à la plage les yeux fixés sur le contenu clair dans ce verre cristallin.
T'apporter ce précieux cadeau,
cette eau douce,
pour te désaliner
pour te rafraîchir la mémoire
pour te vider ton inconscient.

Ce liquide que la peau ne peut retenir
nous échappe
entre les doigts
comme un jour nous échappera la vie.

Une fois cette eau fut notre sueur.

Une goutte peut être
est restée et comme un chalumeau
a allumé ce feu qui m'envahit
jours après heures, minutes avant secondes.
Temps gagné. Temps perdu.
La flamme qui brûle en moi ne veut pas être éteinte.
Ce brasier dont je ne croyais pas qu'il puisse encore croiser
mon chemin, mon destin.

Je croyais avoir fini la partie de ce jeu qu'est l'amour
ma destinée en a jugé  différemment.

Cette eau sert à apaiser mais le verre se vide brusquement de son contenu
Ma main est mouillée | l'eau glacée condensée a paralysé mes doigts.
Je ne peux faire qu'un seul mouvement.
Vider cette source imaginaire dans la mer.
C'est pour cela que les larmes sont salées.
Mon corps a aspiré l'eau de l'océan et rend  mon chagrin à son créateur

Pourquoi l'embrace de joie de te revoir se traduit elle dans une envie irrésistible de verser des larmes dans ton cou?
Je veux seulement te regarder, éviter le toucher
l'eau de mon corps bouillonne et s'échappe des  pores.

Je reviens à la source.

Je ne déverserai pas cette eau précieuse et claire comme l'ambre. Je la laisserai  plutôt se fossiliser pour qu'un jour un être errant  trouve ce coquillage sur une plage lointaine et traduise ce message de tout temps avec un sourire furtif avant  de continuer son chemin.

555-0267

The theater walls are empty

a dark red brick wall reflects desolation

stage drops hanging as

beehives

invaded by bedbugs.

Awakening in the drops container

I see

the back stage lights are star flashing

the sound of a new message echoes from the audience to the stage walls

and back

SWCHHH

another missile

now on an undefined target.

Women pictures adorn the surrounding walls

in order of appearance

Cameron, (H)elen(a), Kate, Drew, Ally(da), Farah, Lucy, Jaclyn, Cheryl, Dylan, Alex, Natalie, Jill, Kris

Slide-Stars-Show.-Bombing.-Killing

My name is Charlie, also known as

Little Boy.

Good morning, angels!

Good morning, Charlie!

Enola Gay

Public address speaker giving orders

sending people on mission

to where?

the show must go on so let's replace

the stars

Two minutes to go towards the objective

SWCHHH

another missile

now on a specific target.

Listen, Bosley this is not soap

not even Police Academy

Its war man...Its war...

The backstage lightning

turns to be anti-aircraft guns

it's high time to wake up

facing reality

checking what

guns and angels

angels and me

My name is Charlie

the angels are gone

theater seats are empty

Box Office closed

today's show cancelled

the technician died in his drop box

Bye Charlie!

...

SWCHHH

Bye angels!

New roads ahead.

I noticed fine steel cuts

covering my skin.

Mirrored on the surface of my mind

I recognize deep furrows

on the armour plate of my heart.

Scratches, scars, wounds

left by humans

all kinds-

all sorts-

all colors- of,

any

gender.

Encounters :

deliberately accidental

meeting by chance a passer-by.

Ships, planes and shuttles cleave their surrounding spaces

|one lays|one hangs|one escapes|

all leaving traces

-marks-

|some short|some long|some for the eternity|

We all dream our thoughts being eternal

blown by the wind to far destinations,

crossing borders, lakes, mountains, air

creating new

-ways, -roads, -marks,-traces.

Spring is almost there,

regenerating skin,         

renewing thoughts,

healing hearts.

New roads ahead.

Scherzo

I quit the airport(s) for a while | the ocean behind the door is too appealing

When a dream is not a dream
but a relaxing reminiscence
-a fantasy about what could be-

An orchestra plays on the deck
J.S.B'ees Orchestral Suite Two's
-Badinerie-
a light-heeled easy tune.

The breeze,
tickles
the stubbles on my cheek,
itches
my right ear.

My unconscious self
-while contemplating an impossible scenario-
switches on
a smile on my face.

The feeling
of mastering this situation
generates emotional feel good.


I stretch my legs
this results in a cramp.
Suddenly
the dream is really painful.
Soon
-while running-
the pain will remind me this nasty awakening.

How a jesting ends as an evil dream.
The year started in pink mood;
Today is rather a knockdown type.
Despite first signs of early spring fatigue
I'm searching for spirit energy.

I'm awake.
No
breezy- 
tickling-
itching
cramp.
I'm still smoothly shaved.

Where is the deck?
I still hear a merry tune.

A5 B

For Ana.

A chair gazes at me.
Empty place filled with an empty stomach.
A nasty feeling waiting for a warm gesture
for whom has erased the memory.

With the appearance of emotionally unaffected staring
your fingers slither across numbers and letters
creating a concept
build of facts and thoughts
till destination is reached.

Traveling through time stuck in your seat
surroundings changed just like in a real trip.
Only your thoughts wander
around, beyond and above.

 _and your mouth speaks unsure tousled words _

I bring you cake and candy
talk to you briefly
leave you
to continue your journey.

You're now a habitual customer taking her regular seat
as day by day
you come and go
Till the moment
the chair remains empty.

|Achieved your
goal
Attained your
destination|


Today
another traveler took
your seat.
A passerby with new dreams,
heading for new horizons.

Even occupied, your seat remains empty.
Watching it
leaves my ears with the sound of an incomparable voice.

This seat abides yours.

Wanderings

Please read the notes about to whom this wanderings are dedicated.
About Wanderings

Stormy gusts of joy and sadness
so are my thoughts
surging up and down
between the pain of absence and the pleasure of reading those whom I love.

My memory wanders at the borders of lake Muhazi downhill of Janjagiro Slope
as if I'm living in a distant past.
I'm hibernated in the shadow of a church covering
dead Kings
while the mind cogitates those other churches filled with carcasses,
Kings in heaven,
victims of ordinary people's genocide.

Surrounded by the wealth of artificial feel good
I lack the presence of the - prêt-à-porter Christmas Tree - sales woman,
the accosting resellers in Rue du Commerce.


Atmosphere of an unreal Christmas.

Where my heart is
are my thoughts,
thousands of miles away.

Only my physical I is here.

All my beloved ones
scattered far and near
-also-
present in each fiber.


I yearn to be an airplane
Steel bird
made flesh at arrival,
made ready for that embrace
with those
whose house and heart are hidden
behind |high| protected walls where
, new life is born
, wise life is lost. 

Please tell me that you know that
when the clock indicates the time of joy and pain
this damaged brain will float through space
to invade your thoughts
to nestle in your safe house.

Imagine ... the ocean

What is behind
that curtain?
|Guess|
A window sprinkled by neutral raindrops
-glass covered by salty tears-
creates a sea
covered by
story telling
clouds.

Even I'm not possessed
by my fantasy.
I can see
all what I Imagine.

A furtive drape|wave|
stolen from Hopper
sends me a whiff
of marine air.
Dramatic effect increased by
sleepy eyes
makes you imagine
the ocean
even behind closed doors.

General Rehearsal

They left,
almost
all of them.
One by one
silently
almost
sneaky.
The steps of the last one
deaden by the snow.
There is a life wire
between two destinations
-invisible-
taking people somewhere
delivering them somewhere else.
The excitement of the passenger and the people at arrivals
compared to the despair of those left behind.
And deep in the mind of the traveler
there is that pinch
of the heart
while thinking about the final destination
when the thread is snipped.

Assoluta!

early morning -brain/word/brain- exercise dedicated to Elena.

Her step is recognizable
as a cadenza of a train
in slow motion.

The head a little angled
suggesting
a question is always ahead.

She has no age.
Gioconda,
be jealous of her smile.

Her head is always covered
as she says...
...to protect her hair...
...I presume,
also in

-Summer-

that's what she breathes,
in and out,
summer.

She looks fragile
but can deliver a sudden power
that blows you away.

Food habits

|she has none|

she devours
or she hardly nips.

To joke, to defy
she behaves like a diva
that's why
I name her for years
Prima Ballerina Assoluta.


The title of Prima Ballerina Assoluta is rarely used, and it is usually reserved as a mark of respect for an internationally renowned dancer who has had a highly notable career. Dancers, who are identified as a Guest Artist, are usually those who have achieved a high rank with their company, and have subsequently been engaged to dance with other ballet companies around the world, normally performing the lead role.

Hotel Walburg

I cross the Delft's Grand Place Desolate as Dutch Sunday's are.
A shiny metallic mirror witch moves to unknown destinations
hangs in a frozen blue sky
leaves me wondering
where the bird starts its journey
and
where it will end its travel.

For the last time,
I left my little home in the corner of the garden,
for the last time.
The doors thwack still peals
in my ears,
in my hart,
for the last time.

-Before leaving-
After what they have seen and experienced the walls radiate an
incomprehensible dispassionate emptiness -
they ignore my inner sadness, my bottomless pain -
They just seem  to wait for the next occupant, with his daily concerns.
Only the kitchen bears my name, but for how long?


-After leaving-
Life continues its daily routine
mine [life] also
in this new place
between new old walls
equally indifferent.
I wish this was my hotel,
for a few nights,
before going back to my old trusty walls.


There is no exhaust cloud,
I lost the silver object.
There is no past
-only future
des-ti-nations.