Category: 2016 – Winter

Image: by Ulrike Mai. Source – CC License

Author: Sandrine Spycher

   A cage is such a sinister home. Gray, cold, impersonal. All geometrical with its straight vertical bars. A cage is not a home. It is only a cage. A dead home, like your dead writing. Like those lifeless words thrown on paper in an attempt to reach some other world. Another world which can only be dark. Dark, like the pages covered with words. Dark, like life inside that cage. A life which really isn’t one.

A life which brings death. Like it brought death to the poor bird, killed during the best season. A bird which, locked in the cage, spent a life striving to live a life. A bird which, always condemned to look at nothing else than bars shrinking space into geometrical monotony, suffered a last breath to come out of the cage to make a paper fly. A paper, where dark lines of lifeless marks made up a story. A heartbreaking story relating death. Not the bird’s death, not yet. But your death.

Your death told with her words, her pen, her ink, her soul. Your death leaving her alone. Turning her beautiful into a cage, her fruitful garden into a rage. Her joyful smile sank to sorrow. Her sorrow submerged a heart, which was to be eternally yours, forever and anywhere. Even in death. As she could not live, she turned to paper, to dead paper and dead words. Dead because you could not read them. Dead because you could not love her. Her soul turned to paper. The bird turned to paper.

Image: Gallows, blue sky by Servicelinket. Source – CC License

Author: Nicolas Cattaneo

Our hero was contemplating the defaced cobble wall of his prison cell. He was no stranger to adversity, but Halas! His situation seemed hopeless. But he would not go gently into the night! He refused to let uncouth boors decide his fate. From the depths of his cell, he would rise again like a phoenix born out of the embers of desperation and-

“Oy, get up!” the door of our hero’s cell was suddenly opened, revealing the burly face of his jailor.

“I demand you release me from this unlawful bondage forthwith!” our valiant hero’s demands were not heeded as the cruel jailor buried his repulsive mug in his massive hands.

“Just… keep quiet, would you?” he said, before muttering under his foul breath, “Jesus all mighty…”

The boor’s lack of refinement was palpable¸ but our hero complied, biding his time for when he would spring out of his cage, his just fury equalling the wrath of a thousand suns.

“Stop droning back there! Told you to keep quiet!” the savage barked.

Dragged against his will outside the building, our fearless hero was faced with the terrible sight of a crowd riled against him. He raised his chin, looking down on the mob. They were obviously ready to tear him asunder, but as he walked through them, he feared no evil, for righteousness was his shield. A shield that had been battered by countless blows from all the foes he felled during his storied career. He knew he would triumph over this unwitting evil, for he was-

“Now then, perhaps you’d like to explain all this.”

Rudely interrupted in his thoughts by the leader of the rabble, our valiant protagonist, vanquisher of the evil of a hundred dark lords, pondered his next move. He knew his intellect to be far superior to that of this churl, but he was keenly aware he was in numerical inferiority. He knew he could overcome the populace, but he had made a vow not to harm the innocent, no matter how misguided.

“Hey, I’m speaking to you! Stop staring at the ground and answer me!”

“I shall forgive this obvious mistake if you release me at once! I understand lowly creatures such as yourselves cannot comprehend the importance of my work.”

“What kind of sick freak are you? You call beating a school teacher to death in front of her pupils work?”

“That witch was keeping the tots enslaved with her foul magic! I put an end to her misdeeds.”
“What about Estella? What did that poor cow ever do to you?”

“The high prophetess, thrice sanctified be her name, warned of a time of blood and despair. A time when neighbours will devour each other, when the Great Darkness will have spread so far and wide that it will have engulfed this world. I aim to fight until my last remaining breath to stop it.”

“What’s that pish got to do with the cow, you nitwit?” the peasant growled, ever bestial in his ways. It would not have surprised our hero to find out the man was in league with the terrible barbarians of the frozen North.

“That filthy horned beast carried the mark of the worshippers of the Darkness. It would have brought doom upon you all.”

“It was a bloody cow,” one of the peasants dared reply.

“Didn’t do squat ‘cept mooing,” another said.

“Mooing was a tad loud, though, wasn’t it?” a third added.

“You don’t skewer a cow cause it’s mooing.”

“What about the preacher? He’s still hanging from the oak tree…”

“The cow wasn’t mooing that we’s nothing but… err… what was it again?”

“Heather. Preacher said we was Heather. Remember cause I told meself it was funny. No one by that name here.”

“Right, so cow wasn’t pissy about us being Heather.”

“Well, cow wasn’t diddlin’ them-“

“Lads! I think we get the point here,” the leader of the crowd dutifully reminded them. Nothing as tiresome as peasant babble. But as our hero was about to take advantage of the situation to abscond, the rabble turned their attention back to him.

“And if all this weren’t enough,” the leader continued, “you tried to have your way with the cobbler’s daughter.”

It was simply natural that our hero would need rewarding after having faced such gruelling evils. To this end, he turned his ever-loving gaze to the town’s fairest maiden, who would only be too happy to reward him properly. He felt it was, after all, his right. Besides, who would refuse a gallant, handsome hero such as he? And yet, the boorish herd somehow took offence at our hero indulging himself.

“Where is that wench? I would speak to her myself,” our hero rightfully demanded.

“Not here, you sack of manure. Now, do you have anything to say in your defence?”

“I answer to a higher calling. I shan’t excuse myself for a wrong I haven’t committed.”

“Right. Ladies and gentlemen, let’s fetch the rope. The preacher’s yearning for company.”

?

Hangman’s ledger, entry forty-two:

Inventory of the possessions of a “Ser Corny”, real name unknown.
– One sword with some fancy scribbling on it. Smith stepped on it and broke it. Dismissed it as “some brittle piece of shit”.
– A picture of a man in black armour with “daddy” written on it. I shouldn’t judge kinks.
– A short wooden stick. Disturbing conclusions.
– A golden ring. Tied around the neck. What’s wrong with using your finger?
– A vial of some substance. Village idiot drank it and is now surprisingly sane.
– A sack of golden apples. Who goes about carrying something like that?

Image: © R.B.H.

Author: R.B.H.

April 6^th 2016: “And so they danced under the dying light”

And so they danced under the dying light. They knew they did not and would not possess time. With the wind their love flew up high, blowing in the great white snows, melting away as the sun rose and set. Everything was going to disappear as the red lights were slowly fading to warm the hearts of others. They wanted to hold on. Hold on to time, hold on to love and these cherished moments… but they were condemned. Condemned to walk alone, banned from this place some like to call forever. And they knew it, they felt it. It was all already slipping through their fingers and they could see themselves a couple of years from now looking back at these two lovers that used to be, that used to shine and that used to dance under the dying light of a purple sky.

April 18^th 2016: “What would come my way?”

So I stared into the distance. The horizon was dark with sparks of lightning here and there. The sky was calm, yet exploding stairways to heaven. What would come my way? I thought while gazing in awe at the infinite horizon. I was not afraid, I felt safe and calm within. The electric sky was just a reflection of this energy I had been feeling within me all my life. As the sky tore itself to pieces, I thought of life. So many things had happened to me in the past years, but now, at this very moment, what was coming my way? I tasted the present moment to remember it better a few years from now when I would have an answer to my question. I observed the magnolia tree in front of me. “You are beautiful”, I thought, “just like the life that grows within you, within me and everybody else that is sitting around this table talking their hearts out while nature is giving them a show”. I had stopped talking and was now just smoking my cigars watching darkness wrap her arms around this land I called home. What would come my way? I wanted to go for a walk, run, dance with the wind under the trees – it was all I could think about. I turned to my friends who had now also stopped talking and just like me, were wondering as the sky was being lit up by the fire of life, what would come their way?

June 19^th 2016: “Perhaps my gypsy soul was to blame”

I guess I needed some time off and away.
Perhaps my gypsy soul was to blame,
Perhaps I had to escape a world that seemed to have gone insane,
Perhaps I just needed to be myself once again.

So I listened to the beat and let my feet lead the way,
To this unknown place that has become my harbour.
So many horizons, so many joyful faces, that my eyes have seen and have yet to see
This world is a beauty, a pearl of life, a spark of freedom.
My fiery eyes are hungry for this Earth that has become my fascination.

Sitting here watching this bright ball of fire set west,
I realize that there is no place I would rather be,
Because with every sunset comes a sunrise
And I will be here to gaze at this brand new day.

September 17^th 2016: Drunk

Have you heard of the lonesome soul,
That calls the great unknown his home,
That walks through fire and battles scars
To know who and what for sure he shall be.
As the flame reaches higher to his soul,
He dances on burning stones,
Ashes from a forever past
That will beat his time as it will come,
Until he learns to break free from its unwanted sorrows
And reach out to the dying lights
Of eternity.

September 27^th 2016: They said she was a “long time gone”

They said she was a “long time gone”
It was late when they last saw her dancing in her lover’s arms
Both nowhere to be found by the break of dawn.
Must’ve got lost while following a back road into the unknown
Run away together perhaps, they thought but did not know.
Where she has been and what she has seen can only be answered by suspicion
Some say they still hear the sound of her footsteps when Night approaches,
While some swear her silhouette still dances like a joyful ghost in the dusky horizon
Enveloped in her lover’s arms, the Darkness.

September 2016: The Quest

We are all looking for something
Something so strong, so rare
A pearl in an infinite ocean
And so sometimes we forget
That what we are actually seeking,
We already have it within.
And so we keep on searching,
Looking for the colours of our soul,
In somebody else’s eyes
Only to drown in them
And forget
Who and what we really are
To become
Somebody else’s soul
Somebody else’s freedom
Somebody else’s dream.

Occasionally we gather
And fly together
Side by side
Never knowing
Whether we are actually flying or falling.

November 14^th 2016: You surround yourself with darkness

You shined dark in my heart like a moonless mid July evening sky. What was it about your obscurity that made me see the light that shone and burned within you like a fire of passion?

You surround yourself with darkness; such a friend you think can hide your sorrows away. But they say some eyes are of a different kind and can see right through the shadows of a stranger’s soul. Tell me, my dear unknown fellow, what is that burning light I seem to feel raging within your heart? Why silence your cries for life, for love, when they are the reason why you are the unique person that you are? Hush, my friend. Take my hand, for you can now trust, and let us give in together to the fire of passion.

December 5^th 2016: Before I die longing for you

Just like the morning sunbeams embrace and golden the snowy mountaintops, spread your warmth on my cold cold skin and let me feel the love again. Let me taste your crimson lips and savour this flavour long forgotten while feeling love under your fingertips. Dance with me, even though they stare. Hold me tight, even tighter if you dare, so that they know we don’t belong to them any more. Kiss me now and send me high.

As your eyes glow staring into mine, fire rages in our untamed hearts – we’re about to break the walls – break them all. I guess the forbidden fruit must have been tasty and left our sister wanting more, ‘cause it’s now in our blood – we were meant to be naughty.
So come on now, come away with me and become my journey. For a night, let me travel within your infinity. Darkness wrapped her arms around my conscience but I now see stars, so many stars in those burning eyes that stare right into mine – do you see them too? I feel like the universe is listening – how can it not be? Yes, the universe is here with us tonight as we stand under the firmament of eternity – this was meant to be – can you feel it too?

Hush. Shut up. Kiss me. Kiss me again and again ‘till the world that lies at our feet crumbles to dust and disappears, ‘til there’s nothing left but you and me.

I want to make love to you, so kiss me now before I die longing for you.

June 22^nd 2013: A Midnight Call from Madness

How long will this last? How long will this big blue ball keep on turning and spinning?

Until the light at the end of the tunnel bursts into flames and a magnificent purple dragon comes rushing by with a song in his head and the people finally stop, and stare, and listen.

They listen to the beat, the heart and the soul within the beast. They see themselves standing in the lines and waiting while life just passes them by. They recognize the tears on the child’s red and blue cheeks and they wonder… what if?

The cars that surround them suddenly take on frightening appearances and they wonder… what if?

They smell the smoke ghosting out of the chimney tops and they look up to the sky where a plane passes by and they wonder… what if?

They feel the ground trembling, suffering, begging for this machinery to end and they wonder… what if?

They retire back to their childhood where life seemed green, blue and yellow like a Crayola drawing and they wonder… what if?

Where has the sun’s smile fled to? Why does this earth feel flat and square? Why has the sky turned grey and where is the snow disappearing to? Why are the poles cracking into deep blue and dark grey oceans and why are we letting Noah’s boat sink? How come we’re the only ones with life jackets on while our brothers and sisters swim to a shore where we wait for them with silver guns and red, white and blue petals?

Please, please, please. Somebody, anybody – you, me, them, us – together! What if we all gave a hand? What if we thought twice before buying what we eat and drink and think we need? What if we started walking and talking and dancing like crazy people who have nowhere to go? What if we started being true to ourselves and the people who surround us? What if we woke up from this insanity – this dreadful illusion that we are too blinded to see?

What if…

Silently, the piano shuts and the people of the world, in the tick of a clock, rush through the streets, back to their offices – mountains of unnecessary piles – back to their business and to forgetfulness.