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julius dreyfsandt zu schlamm - juliusdreyfsandtzuschlammprosa

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Zaterdag 22 juni 2024

Be my bride

.
be my bride when the night comes and the sun of my eyes descends into my heart
As I descend into the transience of created sorrow, be my companion.
place your hand on my shoulder and send me gently into the beloved woods. There the murmur of many souls will carry me
into the passing cold.
Be my bride, if only for a moment, a beat of eternity,
Go beyond what was. Carry me to weave.
Through the eyes of the angels the beauty will smile upon me.
Only then do I feel the greatness. Only then do I know what I am losing.
Be still for a moment, my bride. Such is life when I ring the bells irrevocably.
Geschreven door juliusdzs om 10:33 Reageer op dit bericht
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Zaterdag 22 juni 2024

the anticipation

.
my window is behind soft green tones of woods and trees. i already have a sense of what is to come.
I dream of autumn colours, of misty scents that will gradually herald the end of summer.
I am picking the last fruits. Before nature stops growing.
So my thoughts drift to the field of expectation, where farewells are so normal and falling leaves may soften the landing.
Geschreven door juliusdzs om 10:31 Reageer op dit bericht
Vrijdag 21 juni 2024

I no longer cry out

.
I sometimes pile barren flowers on my field of feeling.
there was first blind hope to radiant expectation
like bees rashly sniffing a honeyed bush node.
in truth, however, gradually came the rigid image of the acidic desiccation in a silent watercourse.
words have long since ceased to count as they pile up on shards of broken glass, cutting me into carnal parts, not once, but again and again, again and again and so on of incessant convulsive resistance.
here I stand aging and see around me the missed opulence, drifting far away in dying fatigue.
i look back, i can't, it was life that robbed me.
Even the only reaching hand waved away my longing.
the indispensable has been crucified. i no longer call. I walk away into nothingness

 

Geschreven door juliusdzs om 19:51 Reageer op dit bericht
Vrijdag 21 juni 2024

like circles in the ditch

.
I feel in the peace of your womb
and dream of timeless pleasure
spreading like circles in the ditch.
What I am writing about are the loving looks
and the caressing fingers that run over my questioning body.
I spread my letters over silent thoughts
and imagine myself for a moment in your paradise
What more can I expect on this restful journey.
Geschreven door juliusdzs om 19:48 Reageer op dit bericht
Vrijdag 21 juni 2024

in the air, so spacious

.
almost I go
Or am I already gone
No, as I say
There is still a journey to go
Longer than the long linden avenue
It is more like flying over trees
no oceans but wide streams
that is
on the way to the other language
the most beautiful but unintelligible
that is a double story
I notice while doing
I write myself away
into the future, which
also lies behind me.
I won't interpret it any further
That's already let that bell ring
though a heavyweight
that sounds in the sky
Yes, only conceivable in thought
Or tangible in feeling
It is also like waiting for a past
that beckons permanently
a single soul knows what I mean
but I won't go there
under the blue roof, perhaps grey
I carry a symbolism in stone,
metaphorically speaking
I seek a bridge in the sky
with an illuminating sigh
blowing or in a rumour
it's about, I call it
the slow gait of
a shuffling toad
he knows no better
doesn't think either
is not a man after all, not even looking
for the know-it-all
his existence goes on
inch by inch
he goes as he should
his way is continuous
how lucky he is, he doesn't know any better
Geschreven door juliusdzs om 19:47 Reageer op dit bericht
Vrijdag 21 juni 2024

in plain sight

.
condemned to insight is my time of present,
suddenly a boundary is marked to the past.
I still think of the roof terrace so close and near your dying.
we feasted a few more times on the brown bump we adored.
are you cold, you asked and gave an imaginary warmth.
it helped ward off the cold of the moment outside, and outside our ring.
we shared, clearly, a moment of opulence
Geschreven door juliusdzs om 19:46 Reageer op dit bericht
Vrijdag 21 juni 2024

I invite you

.
Come, look, you are so welcome in my eyes
Experience the gentle gaze that looks at you. Colouring you through fine sparkling crystal.
Come to me, give me your hand. My touch will be fleeting as my fingers play upon the skin of your body.
Feeling the rhythm of the tune we will make.
Listen to the sound of the voices that sing of the silence.
the two of us, enveloped by one another's breathing.
Geschreven door juliusdzs om 19:44 Reageer op dit bericht
Vrijdag 21 juni 2024

The poet

.
With heavy words or playful chords, the poet lays a carpet for the the nearness of being.
He is of such weight that his ego is often shrouded in the fog known in London. He describes his hazy sins with great ease.
With dark vigour he often declares his own mirror.
in which the reflection, untamed, disappears into the coffee pot.
Geschreven door juliusdzs om 19:43 Reageer op dit bericht
Vrijdag 21 juni 2024

Mokum (Amsterdam)

.
My Mokum is tuned into a grey existence by a drizzle of rain.
As I look over my lukewarm coffee, I can see the rippling water of the canal passing me by.
There is no bustle of colourful people today.
The city seems dead. Even though the tram calls and the shutters open hospitably.
Through me pass the wishes of the past and a hope that is heavier than lead.
Geschreven door juliusdzs om 19:42 Reageer op dit bericht
Vrijdag 21 juni 2024

Eternal spring

.
Walk with me on the way from here to there, and from there to where?
Let us seek and find. Let us discover and experience what may bind us.
We are silent aloud. We hear only ourselves.
From head to belly to toe, everything swirls through the body, through marrow and bone.
As if in a resounding vault where the unspeakable is echoed.
You through me, I through you, mirrored through both of us.
the spring is alive and the passion is our drive
Geschreven door juliusdzs om 19:41 Reageer op dit bericht
Vrijdag 21 juni 2024

Nessun Dorma

.
No one sleeps or consciously closes their eyes, the silence of this night can scream or wonder again.
It is not in my power to isolate the silenced feelings of this moment in a simple way.
Unconsciously, my heart is seized by past thoughts of Latin chants, but also by the dream of waiting again.
But above all, it is the indefinite hour after midnight, when emptiness is revealed again and again. It is not the child that is born again, but melancholy.
Geschreven door juliusdzs om 19:40 Reageer op dit bericht
Vrijdag 21 juni 2024

Quatre mains

.
Join me in playing the solo, an important part of the soul in a human score.
A quatre mains for an unattached couple playing at the same time and side by side.
They come together in the Andante, but find each other again in the rapid Presto. They do not allow themselves to be robbed of their freedom by the solo constant.
Geschreven door juliusdzs om 19:39 Reageer op dit bericht
Vrijdag 21 juni 2024

The birth of loneliness

.
Born from the paradise of warmth and abundance
with the loss of essential connection, I became dependent and burned, and my soul separated. I lost the sense of oneness.
This is where my loneliness was born. It is so human and fundamental. It awakens the inevitable feeling of desolation in death.
I seek it often, but I am not always able, blind and ignorant, to find the way to eternal love, and I am captivated by all that is earthly. Sometimes I am lulled to sleep by contradictory dreams, both day and night.
My authenticity is close to my soul. It can blossom only if I am willing to grow towards the other and if I am willing to share myself in the garden of unconditional affection.
Only then, yes only then will I be led to a restorative, pure connection.
Geschreven door juliusdzs om 19:38 Reageer op dit bericht
Vrijdag 21 juni 2024

Light

.
It's not that the light goes out quickly when there is fog on the windows.
But you feel every sound that comes in differently. It is more stripped of the earthly.
It is usually a slower song from your own heart also is the noise from outside that closes the auricle.
The full mind then seems to shrink - that is the appearance - and the environment loses its power, as if you are speaking without words.
In silence, everything solidifies and changes colour. It mocks the impure, it lifts boundaries.
You become soft and invulnerable. In perfection there is only the scent of roses.
But then you already dwell in eternity, waiting for the liberation of the senses and the soul from gravity.
Geschreven door juliusdzs om 19:37 Reageer op dit bericht
Vrijdag 21 juni 2024

The rumour of the sigh

.
For a long time I closed nothing
no doors
no mouths.
I have an eye for the colours
sometimes through the grey.
And I listen to the sound of you,
the other,
still cold as stone
or as soft as a feather.
No, I don't close.
I open when you let me smell
the scents of your soul.
And then sometimes detect the moisture,
again and again,
of the tender child within you.
Where fear has always sought you out
and you have fallen over the thresholds
The dawn has rarely been tender to you.
Geschreven door juliusdzs om 19:36 Reageer op dit bericht
Vrijdag 21 juni 2024

The fate of chance

.
Suddenly, the departure presents itself.
And soon I am going to leave the interior
of this foreign country.
An interior where one is at home as well as in oneself.
I have moved further in the resignation of my sparkling spirit.
All of this in a reflective and humorous connection
with the people who are close to me and to my heart.
But also the depth and the openness of some unexpected "
passers-by" and so called "local friends".
A precious sharing of diversity and respect.
Unintentionally or automatically, layers of the soul
were in touch with each other,
with the useful reflection of common sense.
They were rare gatherings.
There were silences or sounds at tuned frequencies.
Geschreven door juliusdzs om 19:35 Reageer op dit bericht
Vrijdag 21 juni 2024

Fleeting

.
I had forgotten how big your eyes were.
how playful they could be.
saw them again for a moment.
I had no words to describe
the passion I felt.
had forgotten how beautiful you were.
you knew how to play with my world
with your smiling flirtation
that I could read on your lips.
what you said caressed my heart
as I imagined that you belonged
only to me, like the first time,
I went through it again and got lost.
Geschreven door juliusdzs om 19:29 Reageer op dit bericht
Vrijdag 21 juni 2024

Length, depth and distance

.
Still now allready, you might say.
surely you're running out of breath
at over seventy years of age.
should I continue to concentrate only
on the conservative poems
or should I put down a recital on the stage?
something that lingers on from oatmeal to oatmeal,
during the grip around the microphone on stage
I try to crush short intriguing poems or as prose in length.
something that must also have a permanent taste
of an endless chocolate bar and an aura that draws
the listener to you as I cut my words without trimming,
even if I let them roar loudly from a passionate crater.
will my poetic writing now stagnate in history?
it is like floating in polluted water.
I am no longer writing about the later,
am bound by my own fetters and so I linger on
as yet another crisis that wants to interfere with the passage.
yes, the wordless view is in sight.
the bilge is close by and is not moving,
that is what the 'reality' is illuminating;
I am a man of few words, nor of endless artistry
and address myself more as a bricklayer
who has to limit himself to his core in a short time.
I have sufficiently explained my limitations.
and have landed back on earth:
the scope of my work is defined
by the space available on paper.
I wonder if this is the way I still love to write,
if this is the end or a new beginning.
Geschreven door juliusdzs om 19:25 Reageer op dit bericht
Vrijdag 21 juni 2024

Tauziehen

.
Der Ritter und der Tod liefern sich einen Kampf um den Auftritt.
Es kann auch sein, dass mein Verstand der Spieler in diesem Kampf ist.
Sind sich die anderen dessen auch bewusst?
Oder geht es tiefer? Spielt meine Seele eine Rolle?
Sind es meine eigenen Hormone?
Oder nur mein materieller Drang zum Überleben?
Was will mir mein - ich - immer wieder und immer mehr
mir als Endlosfilm zeigen.
Alles deutet darauf hin: Die Nacht zeigt den Untergang
aber auch, dass der Tag in meinem Atem noch am Leben ist.
Es ist eine Spaltung, in der ich mich manchmal zu erstarren scheine,
und dass ich weniger in Balance bleibe.
Geschreven door juliusdzs om 19:23 Reageer op dit bericht

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