Dec. 1st, 2009 07:51 pm
heinel: (Default)
In our home there are a lot of over-sized Victorian
furniture that are really impractical. Like a round wooden table
we rarely use because a vase of arranged flower
takes up most of its surface, or the piano

that nobody ever touches anymore. Our balcony
is a garden with flowers of every color, hidden
fifteen floors above the ground. Visitors probably do not notice
the tea set of translucent burgundy, on our intricate coffee table,

beside the polished leather sofa, between the golden lamps.
They may not notice the chandelier, or the white candles
on the wall, not before they sniff through the lavender and jasmine
which, never happens because of the paintings.

Paintings on every wall capture their attention the moment
they step in: classics of roosters, rivers, streets and salons, with golden
frames so heavy that it is impossible for one person to lift
them in place. Visitors may not notice, that our lights are dimmed.

But I notice,
I notice the twin bone towers
the round wooden table.

Afterthoughts... )
heinel: (Default)
It is again Wednesday night,
our meeting 4pm.
The time is just right for another
hot mug with a diadem.

As usual I sit beside you.
I like your attention.
The fragrance of this coffee is dark.
I'm lost in confusion.

I find I'm drawn to your aroma –
powerful sensation.
The color of this coffee is deep.
I fall in elation.

I sense your brown eyes on me but
never meeting my own.
My coffee swirls around and around,
I fear I'm in delusion.

And why are your words to me sparse,
diplomat well-known?
The taste of this coffee is stark.
I drink in bitter passion.

So come the dreaded 6:40,
our timed depart again.
I leave the class, my thoughts empty,
empty mug in hand.

Afterthoughts... )
heinel: (Default)
I look out of the window and it is mostly dark.
Lights of orange and white dot the city at night.
Cruising through the sea, I leave not a mark.
The closer are the jewels, the brighter are their light.

Lights of orange and white dot the city at night,
ever so slow the clusters of street lights shift.
The closer are the jewels, the brighter are their light;
touching the glass window, I can feel the rift.

Ever so slow the clusters of street lights shift.
Between the stars little headlights traverse,
touching the glass window. I can feel the rift
ten thousand feet below. There is the universe

between the stars. Little headlights traverse
in the milky way. I too am just moving along.
Ten thousand feet below there is the universe,
like firework, yet that does not last this long.

In the milky way, I too am just moving along,
entranced by the brilliance of prisms
like firework. Yet that does not last this long.
With nothing but a duffel bag, I dive for the chasms

entranced, by the brilliance of prisms
cruising through the sea. I leave not a mark
with nothing but a duffel bag. I dive for the chasms.
I look out of the window and it is mostly dark.

Afterthoughts... )


Oct. 28th, 2009 04:02 pm
heinel: (Default)
If I can select many colors
and infuse my thoughts into paint
I would have drawn a script

If I can arrange many sounds
and imbue my feelings into voice
I would have sung a tale

If I can direct many movements
and instill my instincts into act
I would have carved a musical

But I cannot do those
so I wrote this letter instead
Otherwise there would be nothing

Late September I got a new key
which has been with me for nine odd years
It is a little rusty and not at all clean

A note beside the elevator told me
to throw the key away
I think I died a little inside reading that

This Autumn I met someone new
who I have not noticed before
The same dark eyes I can now see up close

A voice from the elevator prompted me
to use my new key
It is time for me to use the new key

What will be waiting for me
if the gate opens
I am excited and a little confused

If in there I find my paint
even if it is gray
If in there I find my voice
even if it is shrill
If in there I find my act
even if it is coarse

At least I will be able to play

Afterthoughts... )
heinel: (Default)
Because there were so many tourists then in Pura Tanah Lot,
Appreciating the Temple in the Sea was nigh impossible.

I thought so as I set foot in the parking lot.
Treading across the soft mud, my concerns were confirmed.

So close to nature, the tour could have been my creative lot.
Yet, I could not see anything here worthy of my signature:

Catching the salty sea wind was probably harder than winning the lot.
There was plenty of spicy food though, I smelled that on the way.

Everyone was excited about it all – they were a cheerful lot.
I cannot see how I could share their enthusiasm, though.

Noisy chat and banter, there definitely were a lot.
The sound of the waves cannot be heard at all.

I thought I should pay the sea God my humble lot.
But when I saw that line up for the ritual? Never mind.

So it makes you wonder why did I stay there.
With patience I found a new page in my album:

By dusk, the foreground has become nothing but a shadow;
The outline of trees and spires against the orange sun.

Afterthoughts... )


Oct. 16th, 2009 03:12 pm
heinel: (Default)
I am a feather light dessert – puff – puff – puff.
Baked to perfection, the scent of cheese sauce
whipped up softly with egg whites folded in.
Watch how my chest expands, filled with mushy
delights and baby, Oh! I am dripping cream.
Pay all your attention to me. Yes, you.
No, not you, you are just the same as me.
I am the sweetest treat sitting here just
waiting for you to pick. Come on, have a spoon.
Taste this super awesome slice of my soul.
You like it. Tell me you like it, a lot.
... I'm picking up a bit of a snarky vibe from you.
I am but another cup on the table;
hurt, broken, slit open, just an ocean of tears.
Will you look at me, please with sugar on top.
Why oh WHY do you have to be such a tease?
Oh No. Oh no. My chest is deflating!
I am running out of... Where is my Romeo?
Come and get me. Come and get me. Come and get me.
Now, now, now while I am still hot, hot, hot.

Afterthoughts... )
heinel: (Default)
I am tough. I am strong.
Yes, I am tough I am strong,
with my entwined bastion of solitude.
Pentagon, octagon,

its shape may sway in the wind,
but once you get in, there is no escaping.
With the skills of a craftsman,
I weaved my home -

an ethereal chateau
sheltered from the elements.
A ray of light reveals
its beauty, shrouded

not by the reclusive location.
Quiver Quiver
Who is there?
Oh, my guests are here.

Afterthoughts... )
heinel: (Default)

It's me again.
Is it night time over there now?

I just want to remind you,
to water my jasmine.

I still have business to take care of.
Please take care of them for another month.

Afterthoughts... )


Sep. 3rd, 2009 12:40 am
heinel: (Default)
Hankering thoughts characterize dreamy smile; tight
Embrace tops sweet prose by a mile.
Inspiration comes knocking on the cheek; take flight
Now, with the wings of the muse still sleek.
Excellence is always, the lofty goal; but my night
Light has only, ever aimed low!

Afterthoughts... )
heinel: (Default)
ark, dives to the screams
and laughter. Ark-ark-
ark, soars to the clouds
and cheer. Ark-ark-
ark, sails without winds
and water. Ark-ark-
ark, spirited is this
exhilarating ride to

the treasures of fantasy. Thus
the ark has neither rats
nor the gutless on deck. This
airborne vessel, you
must bull your way through
to book for passage. You
must be at least as tall as the red line to ride.

Afterthoughts... )
heinel: (Default)
I can't help but look
      at the pink plaid elephant -
           a cute guy from class.

Afterthoughts... )


heinel: (Default)

April 2010

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