3:01 am

image

simple thoughts
so late at night it’s morning

sometimes all you have
is a bed to sleep
and some food to eat

the sky is bright
they call it light pollution
birds are actually singing

sometimes all you have
is a lamp to see
and a book to read

the silence is so loud
i can hear every move, breath, beat

sometimes all you have
is that quiet space
filled with hope and memories

and then it’s clear, deep down:
what i have is you
not a dream
but the complement to me

it’s 3 am
and the birds are still singing
.
© 2015 threegoodwords

the art of life

clouds with boat

freedom
is not words spoken
alone

it is sang out loud
in the silence that is accepted
across a bridge, dividing
knowing what needs demanding
a rule unbroken
a law of life.

but those sunk in silence
deaf to the marvelous sound
will tell you, whisper, shout:
spring does not exist
fall is an advertisement
summer a ludicrous myth
but winter the truth that has come

not snow-sparkling white
children laughing during snowball fights
but wet and grey
full of frostbite
that’s the one
that is the silence that has come

until one, two, three and more
sing of the sun
bright in the skies
flowers below, shining
trees like seas
green and grassy
life bursting in all colours
rejoicing
second to none.

she laughs when i say
i am (not: shall be) myself
i have a place within
that is sacred, me

and there is that moment
the question, hope, wonder:
how long until that laughter fades?

until understanding pervades
that each and all
have their holy place
beating under their ribs
smooth on their skin?

freedom is not a request
it never was a favour
it is necessary
the natural state of all things
but no one said it was easy

like canvas waiting
clay cool in one’s hands
the art of life is
living
loving
being
free
.

© 2015 threegoodwords

non, merci

flowers japanese colors nakabeni moja-mojadottumblrdotcom

subtle
the pressure works
like a boeing landing
closing in from all sides, invisible

that sense of
you should do something
be nice
give in
ah, the manipulation

but the mellowed drama is craftily sincere
played out in earnest
here i am, helpless
kind of
and i, me, the unworthy soul
am asking you
my queen
translate: you’re gorgeous, beautiful
see how i grovel before such majesty
to suffer my wounds
and heal me 

always with that unspoken demand
to follow through
as if this were high romance
and ye the dying knight
carried back, a-wounded

only there are no wounds
no suffering beyond a pressing need
to do
well, yes
me
which is why i break the spell
with realism
and refuse

that’s barely a flesh wound
here’s a first aid kit

use it.

© 2015 threegoodwords

that is music

child dancing kwekudee-tripdownmemorylanedotblogspotdotnl

sometimes you need it
want it
must be it
that beat that rings through the bone

it’s always there
lingering just beyond
a silent rhythm
nascent in every song

there it is
that thump and clap
feet on the floor
hands off your lap
high up, together

no excuses
dance
dance!
together
you too over there
get up!
move it
shake it
groove it

and celebrate once more
this marvelous thing
that is music
that is joy
that is life
in a moment: forever
one
.

© 2015 threegoodwords

words, spoken

flowers daffodils thedamedottumblrdotcom

funny, this expectation
this surprise.

why on earth
what made you think
you were the first one?

that you to me
are the first speaker
and i the first listener
in this little-large world of ours?

there have been others, you know
we each have lived our own lives
before this sudden together

there are histories to consider
moments watching
hours witnessing another
fudge and shift
and squirm in their seat
piling up half-truths, barefacedly
until they amounted to lies.

so, why this surprise?
why this annoyance, frustration
this sudden sulking at my silence
my lack of faith
in the words spoken
in these first creation days
of you and me and us?

why the accusation of reflex scrutiny
born of sentences heard
turned over once, twice
and, too often, found wanting?

i ask only for patience
while i practice mine
until you calm down
and find your way to words
that make sense
speaking of the you
you are
when you’ve brushed your teeth
and are bound for bed.

i ask only for ‘this was this
and that was that’
no maybe, could be, might have been, possibly
no ‘i didn’t know how to tell you
i didn’t know what to say’
speak, yes
explain, articulate
but truthfully
this is no virtual space
no hip little place
no bar, no party
no office, café

this is me
with you
in a first together
and what else is needed
than those words that speak of you
as you
living, being?

they are the ones worthy
to be listened to
answered
spoken.
© 2015 threegoodwords

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