sketch pad

meine umwelt

avec moi, sans moi,

par moi

Ahh… and the tales I shall unfold

May blast comprehension if the truth be told

An ode to the masters, martyrs and whims

A satyr on life and sullied daydreams


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Through the Child’s Eyes

Personal Honour

I think I’ve seen through a sparrow’s eyes

As far as I humanly can.

And I’ve felt the sea wash me back,

To and fro, as a pebble in the sand.

But I turn to my brother and I cannot see

How the twigs dash a window pane

And I cannot comprehend the angry snarl

Nor the resentment that binds a soul.

And I yearn again for the human touch

As I lose my pride to its charm

And my eyes beg again for a gentle caress

Or the warmth of a loving smile.

What am I looking for, where do I search,

Why do I find no response:

Within, without? Love me, love me, do.

I’m teased by a moment of pure clear sight

As I trace another’s mind and soul,

Sense to sense, identification throughout,

Sparkling, spinning, gladdening, beginning.

Love me, love me, do.

What am I worth, where do I start,

What can I do, and where do I end?

Hug me, hug me, do.

I search not for lover, parent or child,

But my self in another’s form.

I search for my lover, my parent, my child,

I search for their selves in my form.

I’m lost in the barrage of all.

Love me, love me, do.

Love me, love me. Do.

(12th Oct ‘95)

How do I know right from wrong?

On what do I base my decisions?

As I painfully, brutally develop

A course of action, upon what

Does my conviction rest?

I justify everything, but how do I know

What is truly justifiable or not?

I find myself confronted by an

Impenetrable fog of alter-knowledge

As I condemn, or support

Groping along with intuitions’ feelers

Not interfering with conscious thought

Or able to express my belief in words

But believing all the same

How can I know I am right?

Give me the responsibility of knowledge

But give me that knowledge

With which to assess, to perceive,

To govern my self

(29th Jun ‘95)