The Only One That Remains

Will I be awake or will I be dreaming?
When I trace each curve, each thought upon you,
With breath-like kisses I will let the ink dry,
Below or atop, crushing your sweet love into me –
But will you excuse if I call the wrong name?
Everything has a bright side, they say.

Will I be alive buried or will I be dead free?
When I watch a white night or a dark noon,
On those verdant hills or that ground grey green snot,
With serene skies or there where angry clouds hover –
But will you excuse if I tell her name’s Solitude?
Everything is for the best, they say.

I have no questions I need no answers, here.
You cannot accuse, in jail, you cannot complain.
I look through bars for a Muse on visitors’ day,
You or Love, Life or Freedom, Nature or Solitude,
Those fancy names mean little, here.
Memory alone tucks me in with a lullaby.

When I am awake and when I dream,
I stare at the walls and the barred exit,
Every minute ticks long by rote.
But I have learned to be with shackles,
And with my head on Memory’s lap,
She feeds new-born stories, a shared fantasy.

(pictures from the Internet)

Cupid (Amor Victorious), Caravaggio

Nighthawks, Edward Hopper

The Kiss, Rodin

Meditation from Thais, Massenet (Nathan Milstein)



Moonlight Sonata, Beethoven



Joe Le Taxi, Vanessa Paradis


From dusk till dawn,
haunting Memory beckons me;
with moving images
in black-and-white or colour;
speeding on highways,
shuffling into alleys,
groping for an exit in a cul-de-sac –

while I trip on psychedelic ecstasy,
I’m allowed three posters and three songs,
On each day one of each for nine lives expired –

Can’t you hear the Muse knocking at the door?