Easily Nostalgic

Hello,
Yellow.
or were they dirty brown?
She thought with a frown
And found in this thought
Carefully wrought
By three forehead wrinkles
Were several crystal sprinkles
Of memories
That at once sieze
the foolishly classic,
Easily nostalgic.

Infinite Loop

Did I ever mention that I hate loud noises? It freaks me out and sets off a small scream inside me, which freaks me out and sets off a small scream inside me, which freaks me out and sets off a small scream inside me...

You get the drift.

Fifteen minutes of

Close your eyes, and read:

And I sat
in an atrium
Underwater
Surrounded by floating apples
Hazy. Midnight psychadelic
Colours seep through the walls. Slow.
And now feet everywhere
Trying to touch
And in the fleeting instant
Of that one touch
Fusing into each other
Feet upside down
Turn,
Into the ugly jaw
Of a boar. Close up.
A wolf running behind
Red Muslin,
Heavy tires
Carefully tread
Over red flowers.
Silk lapping up the petals
Taking their form in print.
Hands in close-up can look
Distorted. All these lines, I tell you.
Pour warm purple liquid
Over the lens
And wipe it off to reveal
Tulips.
Green strawberries
Suspended in hot pink
melting into one and then
Bouncing away as four.
Under water, sunlight
Filters through the pest-holes
In green leaves.
Wreckage after rain
Little feet
Go Splat. Gold piping on Pajamas.
Squishing ripe mangoes
Stepping over apples
And feet float
Clasped by ribbons
And apples float
And the boar moves slowly ahead...
It begins again, slowly and in close up.

*
And outside -
Lettuces blossoming through snow on the sidewalk, and large plastic bags filled with marshmallows dumped in the trash.

Let's talk about

Lost blackberries. Dripping Christmas lights. The wedding at Cana. A solitary glove. Hot chocolate with chantilly. Bohemia. U Zlate Studne. Soft cold white snow. Hot red wine for 3 euros. Revolutionising poster art. George Gershwin and others in a mirror chapel. Alice's adoloscence and how it turned into a weird sexual drama. Jacuzzi. A castle. 19th century art. A very intoxicating green liquid. Flames before my eyes, flames in my head. A lost wallet. Freely flowing tears. A heart-breakingly beautiful city. My wonderful friend with liquid eyes. Talking. Talking some more. Skipping Wagamama. Cobbled streets in the night-time. Hearty eating. Water-liles and ponds as seen through the eyes of an eighty year old man. Let's talk about the many, many artists who swarmed to that nectar-laden city. Montmartre sans the cigarettes. A sacred heart and some shaken pictures. Laduree. Talking to sleep. Opulence. Gardens as far as the eyes can see. Installations. Reading to sleep. Walking. Peeling wallpapers. Rooibos tea. An explosion. Then another. Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. Psychadelic Eiffel. Diamonds and rubies as seen from the sky. Ineffective airline staff. And let's not talk at all about the city I call home.

They swirl and they twirl....

The colours in my head, baby blue pastel red.
That's Rubbish! said he, Superficiality.
And proceeded thence to crush me (Bang bang, he shot me down).
A spirit now replaced by a hollow carved by sharp words (Bang bang I hit the ground)
And now, my love, my love is as all-seeing as yours (Bang bang, my baby shot me down).

No, I didn't mean the blogging :)