Artkweek
Living is starting a new hobbyArchief voor Schrijfsels
Lose woorden
Lose woorden als een lentewind
die onleesbare verzen op de koppen
van kleine golfjes schrijft,
liggen daar de antwoorden?
Het kaartenhuis
Van bovenaf..
Van bovenaf gezien is het een ondoorzichtig labyrint, er hangen mistflarden en er klinken geluiden door elkaar. Moeilijk de plattegrond van dit sprookjesland te begrijpen. Gelukkig bent u een modern mens gewend te zappen en de bonte afwisseling klanken te onderscheiden zonder gek te worden.
De wereld is een radio
je volgt alle gesprekken
maar bij gebrek aan ratio
behoor je tot de gekken
Uit: Balthazar Moiree
Tekst: Jochem bosselaar
Arttalks: 01
There on the abandon scandpage
stood a helios born side
on the plain it was
the bailturn in the overset taimcornerpage
opening the door to the perfectionroom
in darkness waiting, a lark sambling
bulloverturned awoken symantainers song
of twoway wave fullnate arouse the broken windowwatcher
with his twoteeth smile, where nolonger there the bulls
catcher pullers stood, and the situation got a place in the simular
compairing expertfood for sales, broken, stairing crowd
that slowly vanished like the horizon entertained
ther was no way one could find himself
stairing at the lifted ladder that broke into peaces
and fell on the unawared childgrown underground sailesman
he stood there
never in his sweet home there was a place so forgotten
of such a beauty
and always after their selfmade flashlight trails
in de afterglow of their awariness
a growd animalskin with downhanging drapes
came the crowd marching to their angerdreams
shouting and clapping the animals away from their stills
but still unbroken of inner strenght
one child was looking toward the morningwall
where was written:
looking makes the site you’ re living
so never again they closed their eyes
for the helios bornside in the overset taim cornerpage
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