“Again Dream-2”
One, two, three, four, five, six, seven
I need seven reasons to die
If the energy to write an extraordinary poem is missing
If low high’s cold beauty would attract
If I feel like I don’t want to see orangish dawn’s light
If I don’t want to try the taste and color of lip and breast
If I ever dream of the signal from an alien’s ship
If I feel like I want to see the paradise that someone made up
If I gain the desire to flee from this unwritten hellish life
One, two, three, four, five, six, seven
I need seven reasons to live.
If the energy to write an extraordinary poem is exploding
If low high’s cold beauty does not attract
If I feel like I want to see orangish dawn’s light
If I want to try the taste and color of lip and breast
If I never dream of the signal from an alien’s ship
If I feel like I do not want to see the paradise that someone made up
If I do not gain the desire to flee from this unwritten hellish life
One, two, three, four, five, six, seven hundred years
I am seen whenever, wherever.
I am…
I am not…
© Lisa Fink
2007 оны 9 дугаар сар 18
Eleventh Floor Blues
“She lives on
-Jim Morrison, The Doors
Walking in a crowd with my wings folded down
And dreaming at night of my life in heaven
Your hand that should even have stroked my cold sweaty forehead
Your body that should even demand in someone
Destiny of my son who is falling under someone’s power
Is the mistake of us married without love.
My son who is destined to fall under someone’s power
Your father, who feels even when walking in a crowd with his wings folded down,
Who feels even when rarely sitting behind a glass of wine,
Tastes the suffering of this world.
But your father will not kneel down and hang his head
Will not become bored with this hellish life for a while.
In the blue smoke of a cigarette through the evening
I will write my expressive poems.
Afterwards your son will read my un-empty poems
To a girl listening to eleventh floor blues,
Will travel in my strange world,
Will write in his notebook,
“That woman lives on
“That woman lives on
Then, my son, you will understand your father.
Then, you will come yourself to your father.
My son who is destined to fall under someone’s power
Your father, who feels even when walking in a crowd with his wings folded down,
Who feels even when rarely sitting behind a glass of wine,
Tastes the suffering of this world.
© Lisa Fink
September 18 2007
Eleventh Floor Blues
“She lives on Love Street.”
-Jim Morrison, The Doors
Walking in a crowd with my wings folded down
And dreaming at night of my life in heaven
Your hand that should even have stroked my cold sweaty forehead
Your body that should even demand in someone
Des
