Skip to main content


Showing posts from April, 2016

The walk

Empty, shiny cobbled street at almost dark when sunset in the city can only be felt not seen and we walk, and we stop, for a while…
A tree grows large and leafless near the cemetery.
Life has been written on tombstones many years ago…
Someone else walked the same cobbled streets around the church and built a cemetery and buried someone who had walked before them.

Yet another 'lad'

He's a real cool boy. He wears longtops and skinny jeans and smells of liquorice and magazines. He wears a baseball cap, backwards, like all the other cool boys, and puts product on his hair, whatever that means.

A real cool boy, stuck in his self proclaimed lad culture, where he downs his need for love. Sees in himself no future.

A papercut boy of little hassle. Friendly, no friends. He laughs like trouble.

Dare he see beyond his cool-man lustre.
His hair too straight, his clothes too neat, his words too little...

Freedom, like all else, is relative.

Does a bird ever know that it want's to be free if it's never been in a cage?

Maybe the bird who escaped sees his friends from time to time. In pretty, pastel coloured, bird cages that look like miniature versions of Barcelona. Maybe the free bird watches from a distance as his friends get fed fancy, expensive foods that the free bird cannot buy even if he spends all his life gathering.

True, they cannot fly. But, some of them have cages big enough to exercise their arms a little.
True, they cannot fly. But flying becomes tiring after a while and out there, there is no cage to protect you from predators, or other, worse humans who shoot you dead. They're safe and comfortable, the friends in cages.

Have you ever thought the free bird might be jealous?

For he sings beautiful songs he learnt somewhere far away. He sings outside the blue window where your ivory cage is placed, with its pretty, swirly details on the top. And your fancy food, and your shop bought water.