Naar de inhoud

julius dreyfsandt zu schlamm - juliusdreyfsandtzuschlammprosa

seniorennet.beseniorennet.be

Empty boxes

.
Hear me fill the voids of uneducated shadows that echo off the thickly plastered, blind walls
And the shameless fall of sand and gravel I perceive
as the crashing of decapitated words
So many layers over the years become artificial calloused or dust from ancient images
The soul, forced to nudity by the firing of cannons
that saw deep layers as certainty
The soul that regurgitates the mud in which the rotten poles have performed as a foundation for the pretence of hopeless plays to be performed
I often try to fill these voids with grey dreams
while my fists pound on empty boxes of hope
Geschreven door juliusdzs om 10:55 Reageer op dit bericht
Reageer op dit bericht

Reageer op dit bericht

Een titel of je eigen website toevoegen

it is silent

.
the pure becomes visible in silence
I do not speak of coldness. I speak of calm in a wordless gesture.
turbulent currents drift towards the sea where I see a growing confidence rising in the burgeoning bilge
In this silence of rising joy, where sand and water come and go, my soul tells me: Ebb and flow have always carried me.
Geschreven door juliusdzs om 10:54 Reageer op dit bericht

when desire is dying

.
I would so much like to bind my deepest desire to a chain in my soul
Or embrace it tightly. and to sing with love songs
it says so much about suffering on earth
and even more about our human existence
There is so much desire for avoidance of the inescapable loneliness.
I want so much to relive those moments, to count the intimacy,
but then I am driven on in such a hurry
In the attempt to cling to dreams, in the attempt to be guided by dreams
When I find the other, the one who knows me and understands me
I will slowly be aware of what my bond with life is
The feeling that I have the right to be there will be more and more mature.
The desire will die. To inherit true love.
Geschreven door juliusdzs om 10:51 Reageer op dit bericht

a gilded lance

.
icy thoughts often eat away at the past in the conscience.
It atrophies the, gentle desire. It turns the skin into a shield and sees desire through an unsharpened lens.
and yet, sometimes very briefly, shines through supposed walls like a gilded lance, shining with pure brilliance.
For a moment it makes the feeling quiver
Only to die, as it were. Cast aside like a missed opportunity.
Geschreven door juliusdzs om 10:47 Reageer op dit bericht

Untitled

.
His chair was empty. It was so nude he sank into it.
into his world with the silk pillow; down to the wire worn and dilapidated, its seat still held together by two straps, soft with lost lustre
I feel he is not gone. I smell the scent of his skin, his unwashed hair, and share the sadness of his lost bride, with the tears through the years.
I can still see his smile on his face. His lips curled mischievously and words formed, sometimes spoken in silence.
He's still here. Isn't he?
Geschreven door juliusdzs om 10:45 Reageer op dit bericht

elegance

.
My celebration of the joy of grapes, the sweet feast along your tendrils
caressing the leaves with the tips of my fingers, while a summer wind witnesses the sound of sighs
my velvety lady plucks the ripe fruit with delicate elegance
with delicate elegance she touches my mouth
Geschreven door juliusdzs om 10:44 Reageer op dit bericht

blinding light

.
I lost the future in finding
sought to fill the past to re-bind me my old soul bound
and promised me golden mountains, dreaming of pure happiness.But the truth above all wanted to terrify me opening my eyes with a compelling pressure
I carry the emptiness under my arms like an invisible encumbered weight, but still take my breath consciously constantly focused on blinding light
Geschreven door juliusdzs om 10:42 Reageer op dit bericht

Channanja

.
With budding vigour she plays the old Stradivarius
When she plays, her strings sound like words with sparkling letters scattered into an aging man's heart.
The violin, carved from gilded wood, trembles with joy under the fingers of this white lily. She is a girl with a still earthly past.
The old master of sound has also been given patience by the Creator: He waits for a miraculous maturation. It is always shrouded in mystery.
Geschreven door juliusdzs om 10:39 Reageer op dit bericht

the blue butterfly

.
how lovely and light my blue butterfly goes.
she floats fluttering around in my mind, flapping her delicate wings along leaf and flower.
who will not silently yearn for that.
when I see her and give her a smile she feels as it were the joy of a human being. in a silent wink she connects some happiness in an unspoken wish.
with her sparkling waving gestures she lights up hearts, makes me feel what no one can really explain but lovingly attaches tenderness to the other.
Geschreven door juliusdzs om 10:35 Reageer op dit bericht

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Meer van julius dreyfsandt zu schlamm - juliusdreyfsandtzuschlammprosa

↑ Terug naar de berichten