05-09-2013, 03:30 PM
Muenchen, Hauptstadt der Bewegung*
Munich, capital of the movement
The nocturne nictitates as Munich falls to night.
Last night a friend with his black lady dogs in tow, came by to share some beer-drunk chatter and from time to time our voices would grow louder before the beer would dim them down again. The two dark pretty bitches dreamingly enjoyed the sonic massage we spread out and over the acoustical dimension of my living room, and I had to think about that other guy, I had the somewhat dubious pleasure of a privilege of having known just maybe once a time too much. While the former of the two guys I just introduced to you, souvereignly handled the vocal waves of ups and lows, his vowels and all that consonates with them, the latter always yelled so loudly as if his mouth's eyes had turned blind, because my righthand ear was lesser than a shout away; about an inch if I exaggerate. I wished, that it had been a mile instead, that mile away he must have thought it was.
Whenever the four of us, the friends he never had, assembled our opinions and came it then to grapevining the yellerman, the standard for the intro line would always be that none of us had anything against him, but ...
In hindsight then I would reflect, that we, who thought, were different, had by ourselves applied again the same techniques that generate totalitarian states. We, us the differents, my second but-phrase then explained to me, had nothing but instead the best intentions. I closed the case by slyly lying to myself that this made all the difference. It is because of that the nocturne nictitates when night falls down to Munich, Hauptstadt der Bewegung.
----------------------------
* a phrase used by the Nazi bastards already in the 20ies to refer to Munich, because it was there, where the State of terror (mainly) sprang and spread from.
An attempt to write a prose poem. Any input welcome. It is experimental. What I tried to do here, is composing or creating a text that could either be (read) as a poem or as prose depending on how the readers recite it to themselves. I was not sure about where to post it. I guess, it could just as well be in the poetry practice subforum.
cheers
serge
Munich, capital of the movement
The nocturne nictitates as Munich falls to night.
Last night a friend with his black lady dogs in tow, came by to share some beer-drunk chatter and from time to time our voices would grow louder before the beer would dim them down again. The two dark pretty bitches dreamingly enjoyed the sonic massage we spread out and over the acoustical dimension of my living room, and I had to think about that other guy, I had the somewhat dubious pleasure of a privilege of having known just maybe once a time too much. While the former of the two guys I just introduced to you, souvereignly handled the vocal waves of ups and lows, his vowels and all that consonates with them, the latter always yelled so loudly as if his mouth's eyes had turned blind, because my righthand ear was lesser than a shout away; about an inch if I exaggerate. I wished, that it had been a mile instead, that mile away he must have thought it was.
Whenever the four of us, the friends he never had, assembled our opinions and came it then to grapevining the yellerman, the standard for the intro line would always be that none of us had anything against him, but ...
In hindsight then I would reflect, that we, who thought, were different, had by ourselves applied again the same techniques that generate totalitarian states. We, us the differents, my second but-phrase then explained to me, had nothing but instead the best intentions. I closed the case by slyly lying to myself that this made all the difference. It is because of that the nocturne nictitates when night falls down to Munich, Hauptstadt der Bewegung.
----------------------------
* a phrase used by the Nazi bastards already in the 20ies to refer to Munich, because it was there, where the State of terror (mainly) sprang and spread from.
An attempt to write a prose poem. Any input welcome. It is experimental. What I tried to do here, is composing or creating a text that could either be (read) as a poem or as prose depending on how the readers recite it to themselves. I was not sure about where to post it. I guess, it could just as well be in the poetry practice subforum.
cheers
serge
