The pixelated garden #1: poetry by Karoline Sandborg
Early summers
Fragile happy child
wrapped in the clingy sweat of the night
lying awake with wide eyes listening
to rapid rabbits heartbeats and sneaky demons
outside the trembling wooden door.
Little did I know that the demons lurking between shadows
were nothing but thousands of diamonds on the black neck of the skies
and seagulls snoring softly.
A quick knock through the walls,
only to hear it repeated from the other side,
along with the drowsy rustling of bed linen.
To see the slow breeze in the pine trees outside sea sprayed windows first thing in the morning is to be born again.
And outside, the white town across the ocean and
my gold teethed grandma humming African songs in the kitchen while making milky tea.
I can see us now, my grandma and me, sipping tea on the veranda slowly, slowly
watching the white tips of the ocean
in the quiet mornings of June.
Her furrowed hands reach towards the sun, she says
now this is a good moment isn't it?
Brown Angel and Mother Theresa
You revealed yourself in the strangest place
grazing by the waterhole of your dark green forests
10 reais and a new condom in the pocket of your signature shorts
Tiny yellow tube and cloth, take your turn brown angel before you inhale and
skyrocket
I'm already there.
Selfish Mother Theresa barefoot in
stripy hotpants
smells of Caipriniha and sweat
She dances with the locals, knee deep in mud water
happily blinded by testosterone
Usually saving the world from their sins but tonight simply smiling
revitalised by a tiny yellow tube and the contents of several broken
plastic cups and
some serious attention from a sky high angel.
Manic Virus Mail
LOL the light reflecting from you
what they call charisma
is the sparkle of screens and the manic division of your cells
They tell me you're psychotic I bet it's true
Internet is your plastic religion your ulcerous prayers run through empty ether
you live on the shiny timber floorboards of a Oslo West apartment hoping to upgrade it to living in an 87 story skyscraper in Baerum
where your life will be the same
but closer to the stars and some sort of infinity
Hey baby take it easy you didn't sleep for two days sending spoofs to me
I wrote this mail because I am worried you'll end up slitting your throat
I'm telling you do not pay attention to nervous infectious uncool others
you do and then suddenly your screen goes green and the virus spreads to every corner
and the news of your death will be broadcasted followed by a bulletin on Beef Week
and the garden gnomes' butchers aprons will darken the sky red
I'm sure of it
am I wasting my time or what
LOL.
(C) Copyright 2006 Karoline Sandborg. Permission is required for reproduction.
Item posted by AutoEditor at 12:49 pm ::
