05
Feb
15

Something good

You were but a child and nobody warned you
The ones who loved you told you NO but in a way that sounded like a “Must not”
Most pals told you instead: “don’t be silly, come here, it’s something good for you”
You were but a poor loony, fragile and sensitive like a jellyfish
The first time you were scared to death, you swore you wouldn’t do it again, no matter what they’d think
The second time was already better, the fear didn’t stab you from behind but caressed your forehead: “you won’t die so easily”

A muse with lyrical hips soothed you: “come, I have something good to give you”
the world was trundling into the night like a glass ball
The voice of the muse was a magic cloak that covered your thoughts and set them asleep one by one
The rain was bursting out of your chest flooding her sights

You were gone most of the time
On more and more lurid pathways
Prisoner of zenith
You deepened into blinding brightness
While the world was trundling into the night
You have no idea when three years passed by

The music sat on your lap and licked your wounds like a gentle beast
The moon used to rise from your temples like a huge, exalted plant
The hunger guided you through the labyrinth of solitude like a protector spirit
In search of something better and better
The world was a simple phantasm that you could rid of anytime
Ten years passed in this way

I’ve always cheated when it came to you
You can be guilty of nothing
You cannot be a yob
You cannot lie
You cannot die

In time, things didn’t turn out so well
Music became a common noun
The moon fell down into a swamp
The rain moved on in other fellows’ chests
And in your own remained but a hole
A trippy gap resembling fear
Like a twin

You cannot turn into this stranger
Whose memory has been swept away by wind,
To whom the night puts a knife in the hand
Ordering him to stab the one you used to be
In the name of The Holy Present

I run my fingers over the frozen surface of the mirror
Some gleams of your old smile sprouted on my lips
A whit of your lost sight seeped into my eyes
I don’t want to admit this is the only way I can still save you

I should be able to tell myself the truth and to take it on
But you are “something good” for me
You cannot be this tyrant that keeps on telling
Again and again

“I have something good for you” to the poor lunatic
Locked in the darkness of a dream without exit

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copyright Ilinca Bernea

Motto:

"For moral reasons ... the world appears to me to be put together in such a painful way that I prefer to believe that it was not created ... intentionally."
- Stanisław Lem

"The most henious and the must cruel crimes of which history has record have been committed under the cover of religion or equally noble motives".
- Mohandas K Gandhi, Young India, July 7, 1950

“Organized Christianity has probably done
more to retard the ideals that were it’s founders
than any other agency in the World.”
– Richard Le Gallienne

"I distrust those people who know so well what God wants them to do because I notice it always coincides with their own desires." - Susan B. Anthony

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