Europe
Ian M
Posts: 123
Salzburg
Don't want the troops to come down the valleys. Exhausting the energy captured in the forests, thinning on the tops of these mountain crowns.
Won't build a great castle to impress my enemies and impose a sense of place, if not well-being, upon my subjects.
The times have passed for games like that.
Going to light an evening fire and wait to see what will come:
Now my marionettes are carved for the kindling in wood-chip, a longer-term tinder in the torso.
Watching the cool menace of the Schwartzwälder in a parade of dignity hastily assembled:
A growing fear; that I might lose what little I have owned to the Border Guards.
Low moon riding high as interactive witness. Sun, a copper furnace rising behind chimneys marked in cautionary reds and whites.
Industrial exertion above and beyond the call, a service for the city.
A celestial cycle of unrequittal and its earthly interpretation.
Thoroughfarewell
It's gotten harder to be a hero
Somehow on this island:
Up in high-rise apartments
One can only watch with a longing
Disguised to his very self
The inter-relational bonds developing
From chance contact in the bustle below.
Something that had to be banished
In order that these towers might be built.
In his world there are no real villains
Just as heroism has been relegated
To conversal niceties
(As if the inevitable refining of a single tiresome monologue).
In spite of differences,
The shared purpose enables
An unconditional understanding
To swiftly mend those regrettable, but unavoidable conflicts.
Yes, a longing in disguise,
Visible only in momentary grimace
And to the imagined touch
Of weathered fingers on a pane unmisted,
unmoved
Waking feeling
Every one of them awash inside
Swilling the water round a glass to clear a little condensation
And when it laps over the rim, Joel:
That's the sound of human laughter
And I'm peering in, looking for those silver-line cracks
Don't want the troops to come down the valleys. Exhausting the energy captured in the forests, thinning on the tops of these mountain crowns.
Won't build a great castle to impress my enemies and impose a sense of place, if not well-being, upon my subjects.
The times have passed for games like that.
Going to light an evening fire and wait to see what will come:
Now my marionettes are carved for the kindling in wood-chip, a longer-term tinder in the torso.
Watching the cool menace of the Schwartzwälder in a parade of dignity hastily assembled:
A growing fear; that I might lose what little I have owned to the Border Guards.
Low moon riding high as interactive witness. Sun, a copper furnace rising behind chimneys marked in cautionary reds and whites.
Industrial exertion above and beyond the call, a service for the city.
A celestial cycle of unrequittal and its earthly interpretation.
Thoroughfarewell
It's gotten harder to be a hero
Somehow on this island:
Up in high-rise apartments
One can only watch with a longing
Disguised to his very self
The inter-relational bonds developing
From chance contact in the bustle below.
Something that had to be banished
In order that these towers might be built.
In his world there are no real villains
Just as heroism has been relegated
To conversal niceties
(As if the inevitable refining of a single tiresome monologue).
In spite of differences,
The shared purpose enables
An unconditional understanding
To swiftly mend those regrettable, but unavoidable conflicts.
Yes, a longing in disguise,
Visible only in momentary grimace
And to the imagined touch
Of weathered fingers on a pane unmisted,
unmoved
Waking feeling
Every one of them awash inside
Swilling the water round a glass to clear a little condensation
And when it laps over the rim, Joel:
That's the sound of human laughter
And I'm peering in, looking for those silver-line cracks
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