trilogy

[tom.d.stiller]

Trilogy

I - tenacity waltz

one to three
the graveyards count to ten a city
while my sweet heart is taken away.
do i remember the time?


II - marcia funebre

spending my time in overheated buses i
have lost my sense of time. i lost
my patience and my love
my tenderness and care.

(what time is it? on a thursday?
or is it wednesday?
i can tell by the leaves it is fall...)

disturbed by trains that pull out too late
i keep forgetting little unimportant things
that keep a world alive. my sight
is blinded by the sound of mobile phones
that ring the latest top 100 tunes
to wake up healthy busy futzers from
the spam word cascade they have instead of talk
only to plunge them into even louder
torrents of verbal gestures that never
make a difference. my ears
are lamed by the darkness inside
the light flooded tunnels of emptied
loves. wasted smells of catatonic
cities' parking lots
and stations pass
by

(i'm almost sure that it is tuesday
and it should be almost noon.
but who the hell are you?)

the widowed window. the train
is late again while unmowed lawns
in peaceless sleeps do yawn.
the clock is ticking away what once
was a lifetime of pleasure and pain.
the voice is gone. dry coughs
replace the melodies of speech
and only letters are left of the words
that once mailed the soul to the hearts
of friends and dear strangers. they're gone
to the river of lethe where lethal doses
of memories hurt the immortal remains.
i lost my trust. i spent my last rhyme
on wine, and wasted the final whine
on a silly dime. you are my silent witness
in the final stand. the judge
will swear you to the truth and a hole
in the truce and nothing but the truths
of the fathers gone before us. we sink
in a rapidly rising stream.

(i guess it's five feet, momma.
but by ascension next it will be seven.
or is it 10 p. m. already on this
twelth night of boredom and sick words?)

spending my time in overheated rooms
i lost my silent verbosity. i lost
my patient love, my tender care.
so here's to you!

spending my time at frozen desks
i lost my beelike thoughts. my honey
combs my graying hair.
so here's to you.

here's to you!

to -


III - final gavotte

so this is stonehenge.
the remnants of an age long lost
still haunt the minds of a robot mankind.
the minds of a robot mankind still haunt
the long lost age of the remnants.
so this is stonehenge.

tds 2004-10-28

[Jo]

Ever thought of getting yourself a Harley Davidson, Tom?

[tom.d.stiller]

Ever thought of getting yourself a Harley Davidson, Tom?

I did, Jo. But that could help only me. What about the "I" of the poem?
Because the "I" and yours truly are different persons.

Cheers
Tom