Fur Kurt

 

Balanced between Beethoven and Thunder,

We are all Destiny’s children,

Walking – whether we know it or not –

With our Fates and our phantoms.

This day our honest money is unacceptable,

We cannot climb the tower.

We cool our jets instead;

No wind, no forward speed:

The patient river of friendship

Smoothes our broken edges.

The new-old voices of rock

Loud again in

The still air.

Waiting for You …

In the land of many ills

There’ll always be the one

That’s listening to the voices

(The ones nobody else can hear),

Where grain costs more as liquid –

In the city where rock is

Melted for gain and steel is

Twisted by prophets.

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The Impossible Plank

We were all pirates once,

To be sure,

Living off the rock;

Learning chords,

Where the sharks fed,

How to walk

The impossible plank.

 

Did the sea-change really come

So cutlass-slash suddenly –

The way one-time fierce,

Blade biting buccanneers

Tell it?

Matching the speed with which

They turned coats,

Abandoned chests,

Betrayed their crew-mates:

Becoming sulking, silent

Sunken hulks:

Old frayed ropes in

Borrowed hats.

 

Indeed, may it be,

As cabin-boys whisper still,

That the sea hasn’t changed

At all?