~ then came the rain ~

don't want to start any blasphemous rumours

but i think that god's got a sick sense of humour

a question: 

why do i always turn blakian at the break of winter
end up thinking of lions and black birds high up in the sky
this time: of a lion and a black bird high up in the sky

a feeling:

 the chess-pieces are moving
where to?

and this fox? september fox of oslo. september fox of paris that looked just like me.

a me that knows not. with eyes wide open recognizing no shapes, knowing nothing, just like a child. only i can't look like a child does anymore - i'm not a tabula rasa, i'm a palimpsest. a one that recreates itself, and each time, even if it becomes a new sheet ready to be written on, it gets heavier. by the ink it has contained, by the number of recompositions, by the crash of bonds broken. i feel like i'm on my way under a printing press. in a way i really want it. i wonder if only girls can be this self-destructive. 

so, flicker, this page is not clear - it's only empty.
flicker -

when i die i expect to find him laughing

~ cat end ~

sing me back home

wherever it is. i've felt september already in august and now it has finally come. the reminiscences of this found in a forgotten corner of this place:

the foretaste of autumn. rainy saturnalia, sparks reflected in the blackness of pavement. fall undertows, movements in my soul that i was waiting for the whole summer. the saturated static, the excitement. it's not even september but the rain moves me to the callendar future.

and the future is now. yes, jane rose. it calls for paris and tomorrow paris will be now.

moved out and in once more. found a lost cat on one of the walls, all about my latest nights in a city where i don't feel safe.

caw caw, mjau. i'm getting ill and everything shifts ridiculously from blur to high contrast in a short while. and then again.

cry for laconism, girl!

and don't mumble to yourself in public ever again.

especially not in written form.

~ take me alive ~

distance begins when the first thing passes you by.

with every other fling the distance rises and so does the sharpness of sight. you see the picture and the frame. you see the wall and the very first brush movements. you see the shadow of the hands.
you see all the time although the world we're living in is trying to convince you it's the other way round. with all the pictures, tasks, ambitions, desires, futures, opportunities.
while the only one is the chance of life. the chance of step. of touch. the possibility of voice. of a blink.

how many times you've shaken hands?
how many times you've remebered it?

~ accidental babies ~

i remember when i walked along the river last week and sang because it was the only way to keep the thoughts out of my head.

and if you hate me, hate me, hate me

i remember when i walked a few days ago in sofiehem and gimonäs looking for a house, sang a song that loosened the cord so that i could breathe freely.
it got dark and freezing cold, but kept on wandering around, determined to find what i was looking for. well... i failed, stopped now and then to take some photos, then got completely lost. luckily, the way back home was finally found, yet the woods, road, deserted paths, night and chilly needles did their job. i felt alone. truly, naturally alone.

then hate me so good that you can let me out

how singing always helps out.
how music always is.

and how good it is sometimes to jump and land on the ground just to feel it under the feet.

~ i got scared of my own shadow tonight ~

thought it happens only in movies but... it's just my specialty, isn't it.

threatened by shadows at night
and exposed in the light
shine on you crazy

i remember taking this photo. it happened during one of those long midnight walks of mine. one overconscious step after another, a narrow lane after a narrow lane ringing in the essence of something deeply anticipated. calling. got this vision and just couldn't resist.

and when you finally meet the answer - only thereafter you can form the question - carve the question mark - and then straighten it gently to tie your hair.

then move on to find a dirty rim on your way. take it home.
scrap is only a definition.

well i wore out my welcome
with random precision

ride on the steel breeze.

~ than the dark ~

FUCKIN' HEAVEN TO KINGDOM COME

~ by human law ~

kiedy cię spotkam, co ci powiem
że byłaś światłem moim bogiem
że szmat już drogi przemierzyłem
i byłaś wszędzie tam gdzie byłem
odległą gwiazdą w sztolni nocy
zachodem słońca, snem proroczym
przestrzenią serca, której strzegłem
jak oka w głowie, dla tej jednej,
mądrej i pięknej ludzkim prawem

ave.

kiedy cię spotkam, czy ukryję
wszystkie kobiety, których byłem
pacjentem, uczniem, profesorem
żal nie na miejscu i nie w porę
jak mogło być a jak nie było,
że wszystko na nic - tylko miłość
na wieki wieków i że żaden
człowiek nie był mi tak potrzebny

ave.

kiedy cię spotkam, jak mam spojrzeć
żebyś nie mogła w oczach dojrzeć
starego głodu, którym hojnie
obdarowałem tyle spojrzeń
blasku księżyca, który każe
od ścian odbijać się, od marzeń
do zjawy twej wyciągać ręce
w śniegu pościeli pisać wiersze
szkłem ryte skrycie tatuaże

ave.


ijaniemogę niepotrafię prawieniedajęrady - okamgnieniu, kiedy serce oszalałe bije i - na ułamek sekundy staje, by ustąpić swój skrawek ciszy - obłędowi czucia.
i dreszcze.
dreszcze

~ limbo ~

excess of sorrow laughs. excess of joy weeps.

now, william
watch
footprints cold

there is much to be denied

~ nutshell ~

television is sorry

standing with one foot in the past and the other one in the future. can't find myself in the now. the rejection is returned.

if ever - i can find myself only in the running while. in the short, fleeting moments. like the ones that distinguish a true smile and a false one. in them there is everything.

and yet i find
and yet i find
repeating in my head -

~ having smarter babies ~

all is full of love
you have to trust it




a bright evening after a long row of insane ones
a moment of lightness
till i don't realize it's only alcohol

honey, it's only alcohol
that's how it works

~ false sunrise ~

this evening i've been walking oliwa's narrow streets.
darkness. stillness. leafless trees. glittering pavements. black cat. rain.

face your fears and pierce the night

i was singing katatonia and david sylvian. then pink floyd.
soon i've realized. i looked around.
nobody.

no one living like in cortazar's novels. nobody wandering those alleys at night. just me. and the wind.
overwhelming loneliness and longing.
raindrops on my lips. and a smile. this strange one.

everytime i passed a lightlime, or a tree, i got this urge to embrace it, have a rest. at last. a utopia of laying down the weapons. a bliss of closing eyes, off guard. this lightness.
unreachable.

i let the eyelids fall cause it's another false sunrise - i feel the warmth but i can't see the light. or the other way round.

so... so you think you can tell

~ spowiedź szaleńca ~

w ustach - smak krwi. życie.
metafora serca, mur dworca w gdańsku głównym.
broczy.

i dziękujemy za bezpieczny dom!

ile mocy jest w obłędzie!
gniotę siebie, rozbijam o ściany, rzucam przez zamknięte okna, tłuką się szyby. niszczę, powstaję, jak! skrzydła feniksów szersze niż kręgi pogorzeliska. oczy rozwierają się szeroko. nie ogarniają, zapominają mrugać.
i ten uśmiech.




jakaś misterna część w konstrukcji zdarzeń pękła

ustąpił zamek, który powinien skryć to, co zobaczyłam przez dziurkę od klucza. strach przekroczyć próg, ale nic już nie działa tak logicznie. strach przestał chronić. zamiast tego - pobudza.

infernalny lunatyk przechyla się przez próg.
włosy zagarnia gorący wiatr.

pierwszy krok
pierwszy krzyk
strącają z rzęs rdzawy kurz

~ inferno ~

ziemia
chyli się ku mnie

to a find a cooler place in the grass...

~ czterdziesta czwarta ~

lecz ludzie tak nie żyją, już podobno śmieją
się z ciebie, myszko, ludzie tak nie robią
i ludzie tak nie czują, jak ty, myszko, czujesz,
bo ludzie to nie ty, na pewno, ludzie to nie ty.




ludzie tak nie piją i nie obejmują
tak rozpaczliwie przez sen. (...)

i was seeking hope this morning.
it was nowhere to be found, only these traffic lights.
fallen, gazing blindly into the sky.


wymrugało się.

~ what happened to us ~

love is the law?

emotional cynism. sticky laziness.
odour of half-feeling deadmen made me want to throw up this morning, altogether with all those lifeless emotional compromises. undelicate. able to stain anything with their own cowardice.

my blood denies!
i wanted to cry myself out of my body today.

is there any place to breathe left?
was de sade right: is violence the rule of life?
instead of love.

an overwhelming domination of proofs against my beliefs punches me to the ground with cold cruelty.
i can hear bones crack.
there comes the first drop.
the scale i'm sitting on is racing down.

master, are you taking sides?

~ like the leaves on the wire ~

for we are built
trained
conditioned

to disappear

~ mimo wszystkich nieprzespanych nocy? ~

my time of rainy walks has come.
it's icy and windy. but fine. good for getting sober.
fall impressions everywhere, everytime.

photo: wall of pentecostal church

yesterday i dreamt about a guardian angel. he blew black balloons for me, said something i don't remember. i woke up with a shy, warm feeling in my chest.
beckett's tiny light, just enough not to go insane.

w domu będzie ogień
a do domu proste drogi

~ parliament square ~

dziś manną - popioły
ludzie czarnozębni
czarnoręcy

czarnoduszni

today's long walk. in the rain. crouching in the middle of the road to take the photo, some horning idiots. grey stillness. cold.
grammophone got broken.

it may be silent
but i hear bombs fall

~ inertiatic esp ~

5 a.m. and outside
i'm pretty lost

~ on and on the rain will say ~

photo: from a walk to the end of the world. sunset after a sleepless night

are you still sure you know where the heaven begins?

i know. i was to be cruising to karlskrona right now.
i am not.

the group i would quide there tomorrow picked me up from my hometown and we drove off to gdańsk together. ate lunch in gietrzwałd. joked under the roof when the downpour began.
20 minutes later one of our four cars crashed with a truck.
a woman died.
i am home.

for all those born beneath an angry star
lest we forget how fragile we are