Drowning in Cloudburst

31.03.2014

We are a clacking cacophony of a bag filled with pearls,
we are inveterate asymmetries of fantastic worlds,
we are an unpredictable future that slowly unfurls,
we are boys in a long-forgotten playground chasing girls,
we are the unremarkable window stains left by whorls.

Hither all greys, thither all colour:
this universe has been one of squalor,
with wits unlike swords ever duller
and, somewhere, one last disused muller.

We are but made of stardust that each night swirls
through dimly lit streets in small towns, curls
up to young souls and away all the innocence it hurls.


leave a comment

 
 

Woolgathering

24.03.2014

You bleed the night sky bright,
swallow the moon-covering cumuli
like cotton candy on a hot summer’s day.
How wasted your wings must be,
carrying the burden of our specters;
how sleepy your mind must be,
lending all your wishes to us.
You quench the rain with sunlight,
dismantle the shadow-casting nimbi
like a toy after a prurient afternoon.


leave a comment

 
 

Manhattan

17.03.2014

To walk through intimate places, deserted of familiar faces,
is to remember all the years of drinking and laughing with peers.
Who am I if not the one walking beside you,
what if not eyes tinged in your smile each day anew,
if not sighs permeated with your optimism so refined?
Who am I if not the one repaying you in kind,
what if not a hand in yours suffused with immutable peace of mind,
if not a soul filled with blue skies imbued in morning dew?
To meander following traces, memories of warm embraces,
is to regret teasing how one day we’d move on without any tears.
I am become Void, the emptiness of our hearts.


leave a comment

 
 

Concerning Murk

10.03.2014

Hold me firmer, halt my mind churning, murmur
the story of how we nurtured our love.
How we went from great fervour to a soul merger,
with the inevitable always lurking, growing
each time we jerked around and shirked
arguments about increasingly irking quirks.
We’re squirming, twisting and turning,
cursed to serve our own thirst only.
We’re performers, transformers oscillating
in between mourning, smirking, playing with dirks.
Sometimes I yearn for the past,
your face in turn is always stern.
If only we could learn to leave,
discern a less burking future –
if nothing else it’s what we’ve earned.


leave a comment

 
 

Heles & Heles: Déi vum Februar

05.03.2014

Besser spéit ewéi ni, an no enger hellewull technescher Schwieregkeeten an aneren Excusen, geet ët an onser zweeter Episod ënnert anerem ëm déi aarm Leit vun der CSV, déi elo just nach Deputéiert sinn, an ëm Netflix, déi probéieren d’Telé vun der Zukunft ze ginn.

Den Intro ass wéi d’leschte Kéier och schon vum Kevin MacLeod.


Eroflueden | Abonnéieren | iTunes


leave a comment

 
 

Fiat Lux

03.03.2014

Fast forward, northward, shoreward to an altered altar:
the menacing welcome, the threat of a reckoning
has haunted me throughout a battle continuously uphill.
Yet now here I stand, silent and still,
ready to steer my soul into a new constellation,
knowing with this jump my beginning will be lost like Thracian.
But I will remember this blinding irradiation:
the moment I finally synced with this universe’s creations,
the day I scarred the face of god
and burnt all the lands from Jerusalem to Riyadh.


leave a comment

 
 

Swan Song

17.02.2014

How did it end?
The sing—, ring—, clinging
to you with so much zest;
the liv—, lov—, leaning
on you with all my beating chest:
how did it end?

One night on a balcony,
one afternoon in a gallery,
one morning at a red light
(when I forgot to buy flowers)
maybe.

How did it end?
A thousand little kisses,
a million (in)significant days,
a hundred missed smiles,
a dozen burned bridges:
how did it end?

My heart will hold you forever,
remember you as my favourite sin:
how did it end, how did it begin?


leave a comment

 
 

Nocturne

10.02.2014

She glides so quietly through dreams,
spreads her colourful wings gracefully:
brush strokes for a work of art.
Children’s footsteps follow her with ease
as she circles these hibernal fields
carrying all their wishes in her heart
and all their sorrows in her song.
Infinite and endless is her mind,
her love as universal as it is kind,
forever forgiving for that is her truth:
bring her sadness and she will soothe.
Find her at night but leave her at dawn,
meet her at morn and she will move on.


leave a comment

 
 

Heles & Heles: Déi éischt Episod

27.11.2013

Zwou Saache si scho vill ze laang hier: éischtens, dass et hei neie Contenu gouf an zweetens, dass ech op Lëtzebuergesch gepodcast hunn. Béid Zoustänn ginn heimatter geännert, mat der Première vun engem neie Podcast, deen ech ab elo eemol de Mount – esou hu mer eis dat emol virgeholl – mat mengem Brudder ophuele wäert.
An onser éischter Episod diskutéieren mer iwwer d’Walen zu Lëtzebuerg, iwwer den 11. September a Relioun an der Schoul, iwwer dem JFK an der Kennedy Famill hieren Afloss op d’US Politik, an iwwer Journalismus zu Lëtzebuerg.
Keen huet Esch gär.


Eroflueden | Abonnéieren | iTunes

Den Intro ass “There It Is” vum Kevin MacLeod a steet ënnert enger CC By Lizenz.


leave a comment

 
 

Any Day Now

11.09.2013

Any Day Now

Baséierend op reelen Évenementer erzielt de Film d’Geschicht vum Rudy Donatello (Alan Cumming) a Paul Fleiger (Garret Dillahunt), déi sech 1979 an engem Café kenneléieren an op den éischte Bléck anenee verléiwen. D’Liewen beweegt sech direkt schnell fir déi zwee, wéi de Rudy de Bouf vu senger kokainsüchteger Nopesch bei sech ophëlt wéi déi am Prisong lant. Well weder de Rudy nach de Paul wëllen zouloossen, dass de Marco – deen um Down Syndrom leid – am System verschwënnt, iwwerzeegen se d’Mamm hinnen temporär Adoptivrechter ze ginn. Alles schéngt gutt – bis dem Paul säi Chef realiséiert, dass se eng homosexuell Koppel an net Kosenge sinn, an se beim Geriicht mellt.
De Film schwankt tëscht dem gléckleche Familieliewen, dat déi dräi sech opbauen, dem Rudy sengem Wonsch Sänger ze sinn, an der Geriichtsverhandlung – eng Mëschung déi aussergewéinlech gutt geléngt. Virun allem den Alan Cumming liwwert den Héichpunkt vu senger schauspillerescher Carrière of, mat engem tour de force déi engem dem Rudy seng Léiwt fir de Marco an seng Qual iwwer d’Onverständnis vun der Gesellschaft esou déif matspiere loossen dass et ferm wéi deet.
Obwuel dat Ganzt sech 1979 an 1980 ofspillt, huet d’Geschicht haut esou vill Wichtegkeet ewéi deemools – d’Rechter an d’Léift vun der homosexueller Koppel als Elteren ginn a Fro gestallt, si gi mat Pädophile gläichgestallt an ëmmer nees gëtt drop gepocht, dass et ee lifestyle choice an net eng sexuell Orientéierung ass. De Fait, dass d’Verhandlungen gréisstendeels vun enger Riichterin ofgehale ginn mécht d’Absurditéit nëmmen nach méi offensichtlech.
‘t ass déi Art Film, déi iech är Séil mat esouvill Traueregkeet futti schléit, dass der nom Film mol nach e puer Minutte sëtze bleift. ‘t ass déi Art Film, déi esou voller Léift ass, dass ee guer net anescht kann ewéi sech ze froen firwat mer haut nach ëmmer net weider sinn als Gesellschaft ewéi virun 40 Joer. ‘t ass déi Art Film, déi ee wierklech muss gesinn hunn.
De Film kritt 5/5 Stären, och well den Alan Cumming a Garret Dillahunt eng wierklech léif Koppel ofginn an ee kee Moment un hierer Léift zweifelt.


leave a comment