Tuesday, February 2, 2016

Wor(l)d lyrics

AUTUMN VERSES (January 2016)

Ave Maria, Gardel and Bach
When early or late September falls on us
The rain everywhere, seen from the window
Of a moving tram, it's getting to my nerves
Confidence in melancholic and beautiful thinking
”It would be so easy to drown in this city”
I'm a loser, beloved, and a wishful man

Too bad, as a heretic and an archist
I never knew them, well, enough (to have)
The flower girls from the street, holding asters
All those who write "infernal and inferior poetry"
What happens when you tried too much and failed
In a poem or a place of hope, if the light is good
And the staff like a serpent, we're having our talks
”While the raindrops kept on fooling my head...”
For another man, another one lost in thoughts
(Un)certain of many things, no ghost writing
The old word called honesty, how is it
Ever so difficult to attain and keep

What and where have I written
How I've been afraid of things
That may come, lo, the demon of lust
And afraid of lies, that it's not real
For every other verse printed
All the things I've gone through
Weak and with hope(lessness)
”And there is porn for everyone”
(You who have suffered for us
Have mercy on us, amen)
Save us from these cares

Underground lines in the night
Of soul, what if I'm not a good man
Like them (the Manicheans and the Gnostics)
And you were not [t]here to heal my wounds
The verses of autumn had to come in March
Who ever thought there could be no more clichés
”I would try no more, having failed in all”
Whenever rain appears it's only angels' tears
And you are with me and every day is a good day
Pouring coffee to the ground, what else could there be
When the night is young, the night is young to spell
”With these letters of autumn, come again”

Nobody-Y- knows the trouble I've seen
Or my sorrow, and it's getting emptier
”How my cup will be overflowing.....”
Who never had a bad day in their lives
Who were terribly poor and pain ridden
Between the Devil and death itself
The boots were made of black leather
It's a long way back from the shadow
To what you are, but I forgot it, almost
In the never-emptying confluence
And I would write for a friend of mine
Who had called me, [SAAL] long ago
Having found me from that park
Who gave me a helping hand, kindly
For I was near the edge of no return
”Autumn dying ends, it has an end
With all the lyrics that came in July”
How we shared a few things to recall
When autumn died again, this part would be
Crossing through, cross over the summer
To thank once more, [YIW] an other chance

Every day is a good day and you are with me
Every day is a good day, but (why) are you with me

And what a relief it is after all
To realize that I don't have to know
"If the letters of autumn come again..."
Still, it's getting to my nerves, baby
For there is night, and there's night
They have nothing in common
And the crazy nights were elsewhere
I'm listening to the older music now
From a thousand Marys to Mathilda
Lord, I (don't) try, oh (not) to try again
”And there is porn for all of us”
The copper leaf will remind me
Gleaming red, yellow and golden
I could let our tears of December
Merge into the(se) raindrops, like circles
They would become one with the rain
”It has been so easy to drown in this city”
The sad or happier tears brought by the wind
No, don't worry, they have to be kept
Falling to the piece of their master
To bless the remains of that place
A world in two floors, to cast (no more)
Autumnal verses for a romance in the night
The ground floor, by the window

December tears is an old song title (from 1996).
The Hebrew letter Tet resembles a cup or a serpent.
Cf. Paul Hindemith's Mathis der Maler and Das Marienleben.

(The copper leaf was made by AF. The book is my new collection of poetry, Wor(l)d lyrics. Photographs were taken by Laura Vilva.)