The blog going bi-lingual

I have translated some of my stuff to english so I can read it at open mic night at Mc Manus tonight. It wasn´t that easy to be poetic in a second language, but it was an interesting challenge.

So I thought, why don´t publish it here. I have a lot of friends that don´t read swedish, so now they can read some of my stuff.

So for the first time the blog is going international. Here is two pieces in english, one old and one new...


What are you gonna do...

 

When your life feels like a suit that is two sizes too small and you only wear it to look presentable, but you haven´t even achieved that, and the collar scrapes your neck and the pants pitches your waist and the socks are too long too short too tight too loose.

 

 

What are you gonna do when your worst enemy is your own mind. When your head shows crystal clear movies about things you want to forget or foggy pictures of things you cant remember.

When you cant turn off the telly in your head and on one channel it´s ”Your biggest mistakes – a dark documentary about everything you did wrong” and on the other channel it´s a debate where four voices discuss what you should have done but didn´t do.

 

What are you gonna do when the future scares the shit out of you, not because you are afraid of some bad things that´s gonna happen to you, but because you fear that you will never get the things you desire the most.

 

When you see them clearly, but they are just too far to reach, like a dog that drewls over a piece of meat but is tied with a rope that is a couple of inches to short for him to get a bite.

When you tremble and shake just because you imagine the awful truth of how sweet life could have been, be, become if just fate had wanted something else, if you yourself had done better, or if somebody had given you that little little thing that you needed so much but never got, and you really can´t understand why?

 

What are you gonna do when you need somebody to blame and it doesn´t work with the winter, the government. God, women, the recession, death, the americans, life. When you instead become the accused and they hold you responsible for something you don´t know what it is.

But you have to desperately defend yourself to a judge and a jury you can´t even see.,

 

What are you gonna do when you want another life, when you are tired of that suit and all your other clothes. When you need a brand new closet with things in the right sizes and colours that suites you better but you have no sewing machine, you cant even afford a needle or the material, and even if you could nobody ever taught you how to sew.

 

 

------------

 

 

It ain’t me babe
I could write that I recognize you from a miles distance. But its the opposite. It is you who recognizes me. You see me, you know me and you are looking for me.
There is something you want from me.
But I know you as well, even though I’ve never seen you before.
Twenty minutes in your company and I know who you are.
Sad, most likely brown eyes that catches me, and a surprisingly big smile. A laughter like birds singing in a snowstorm.
I know that if I talk to you longer than the time it takes to finish this pint you will tell me everything about that sorrow in your eyes. Because you know I am a listener, that I dont judge.
You dont need to tell me. Let me guess?
Your mother is your best friend in the whole world, but shes always in the dream land of white wine and Valium. But at least she is not as bad as your father.
Who you miss. Every day you miss your father.
You hate him and you tell me what a bastard he is and how angry you are about everything he did to you. But still you miss him so much and you would do anything to make him like you, see you and understand you.
But he´s not here. He hasn´t been here for years.
So you talk to me instead. Everything you want to say to your father you tell me. Because your father let you down.
Like every other guy in your life.
Every man you ever met, and it´s been a few, has let you down. Sooner or later, they all let you down.
”But not you”, you say to me. ”You understand. You are the only one who understands.”
And then you tell me more and more. Things you´ve done and things people did to you. And I´m listening, because it seems so important for you to tell me. I can´t tell you to stop.
If I would say what I really think. That I don´t want to hear more, that I don´t want to know everything – that just because you know I don´t judge it doesn´t mean I want to know everything. That the things you tell me sometimes gives me pictures in my head that I don´t want to see.
If I would tell you that I am not the best person in the world. That I have weaknesses and flaws like everybody else. That I cant be there all the time. That I cant always be the one who understands. That your expectations are too high, that you are trying to make me a person that I´m not, handle something I cant handle.
If I would tell you that some days I can´t even take care of myself, and even less somebody else.
Then that little flame that I lightened in your eyes would die, that laughter I actually can get from you would silence. And I cant do that. Because I want to be that person that you think I am. That you want me to be.
And without even knowing it I am trying. Because it feels so special to be so close to you. Closer than you let anybody else come.
When you let me in I find razorcuts on your arms and a body that is marked by uppers downers and all the dinners you threw up or skipped. Something tiny and fragile that could fall apart any second, something I want to protect from yourself and everbody else.
But that was a long time ago, you say. You would never cut yourself today and you stopped putting your fingers down your throat when you were a teenager. Now you want to feel good. Thats why you stopped doing drugs as well.
Except for the green stuff. You need a joint now and then and its better then the pills the doctors wants you to take. And a few lines on special occasions.
But not like then. Back then when you were young stupid and destructive.
Now you don´t need to do stuff like that anymore. Not when I am here.
But one day something happens. Just a small incident that makes you understand that I cant be the one you want me to be. That I am only a man. That I cant be there all the time, understand and defend you what ever you do. Open every door, pick you up every time you fall. Make you laugh in your darkest moments and say exactly the words you need to hear.
I know you think that I promised you, but you demand it. But comes a day when I am not there. When I all of a sudden say what I really think. One day when I am fighting my own demons and I´m not strong enough to fight yours.
When I let my guard fall and show you who I really am, I fall down from the cross you nailed me to, And I fall long and hard, so much longer and harder than all the others. Even if my crime is much less I fall longer and when I hit the ground all the ties between us is gone. You pushed me down from a cliff that was so much higher than you let anybody else climb.
When I stand up again and look into your eyes, its black empty and cold. I can´t light that flame anymore, the coal is wet and I´m the one who pissed on the fire.
I can still make you laugh. But that laughter is no longer beatiful like the birds singing. Its scratchy, has no melody and reminds me of a dead man´s last pistolshot. A laughter that gave up everything except the possibility to do unto others what you think they did to you.
But baby,
Let´s not sing this song again. I already know the lyrics.
I don´t want to be on that cross you want to nail me to. It´s windy and cold up there and there is no stairs where I can climb down.
So even if you know me and I know you, even though we never met. Lets just pass-by each other.
Because I am not the one you think, the one you want me to be.
Let´s just leave each other alone.
It aint me babe. It aint me you looking for babe.
It ain’t me babe


I could write that I recognize you from a miles distance. But its the opposite. It is you who recognizes me. You see me, you know me and you are looking for me.
There is something you want from me.
But I know you as well, even though I’ve never seen you before.
Twenty minutes in your company and I know who you are.
Sad, most likely brown eyes that catches me, and a surprisingly big smile. A laughter like birds singing in a snowstorm.
I know that if I talk to you longer than the time it takes to finish this pint you will tell me everything about that sorrow in your eyes. Because you know I am a listener, that I dont judge.
You dont need to tell me. Let me guess?
Your mother is your best friend in the whole world, but shes always in the dream land of white wine and Valium.
But at least she is not as bad as your father.
Who you miss. Every day you miss your father.
You hate him and you tell me what a bastard he is and how angry you are about everything he did to you. But still you miss him so much and you would do anything to make him like you, see you and understand you.
But he´s not here. He hasn´t been here for years.
So you talk to me instead. Everything you want to say to your father you tell me. Because your father let you down.
Like every other guy in your life.
Every man you ever met, and it´s been a few, has let you down. Sooner or later, they all let you down.
”But not you”, you say to me. ”You understand. You are the only one who understands.”
And then you tell me more and more. Things you´ve done and things people did to you. And I´m listening, because it seems so important for you to tell me. I can´t tell you to stop.
If I would say what I really think. That I don´t want to hear more, that I don´t want to know everything – that just because you know I don´t judge it doesn´t mean I want to know everything. That the things you tell me sometimes gives me pictures in my head that I don´t want to see.
If I would tell you that I am not the best person in the world. That I have weaknesses and flaws like everybody else. That I cant be there all the time. That I cant always be the one who understands. That your expectations are too high, that you are trying to make me a person that I´m not, handle something I cant handle.
If I would tell you that some days I can´t even take care of myself, and even less somebody else.
Then that little flame that I lightened in your eyes would die, that laughter I actually can get from you would silence. And I cant do that. Because I want to be that person that you think I am. That you want me to be.
And without even knowing it I am trying. Because it feels so special to be so close to you. Closer than you let anybody else come.
When you let me in I find razorcuts on your arms and a body that is marked by uppers downers and all the dinners you threw up or skipped. Something tiny and fragile that could fall apart any second, something I want to protect from yourself and everbody else.
But that was a long time ago, you say. You would never cut yourself today and you stopped putting your fingers down your throat when you were a teenager. Now you want to feel good. Thats why you stopped doing drugs as well.
Except for the green stuff. You need a joint now and then and its better then the pills the doctors wants you to take. And a few lines on special occasions.
But not like then. Back then when you were young stupid and destructive.
Now you don´t need to do stuff like that anymore. Not when I am here.
But one day something happens. Just a small incident that makes you understand that I cant be the one you want me to be. That I am only a man. That I cant be there all the time, understand and defend you what ever you do. Open every door, pick you up every time you fall. Make you laugh in your darkest moments and say exactly the words you need to hear.
I know you think that I promised you, but you demand it. But comes a day when I am not there. When I all of a sudden say what I really think. One day when I am fighting my own demons and I´m not strong enough to fight yours.
When I let my guard fall and show you who I really am, I fall down from the cross you nailed me to, And I fall long and hard, so much longer and harder than all the others. Even if my crime is much less I fall longer and when I hit the ground all the ties between us is gone. You pushed me down from a cliff that was so much higher than you let anybody else climb.
When I stand up again and look into your eyes, its black empty and cold. I can´t light that flame anymore, the coal is wet and I´m the one who pissed on the fire.
I can still make you laugh. But that laughter is no longer beatiful like the birds singing. Its scratchy, has no melody and reminds me of a dead man´s last pistolshot. A laughter that gave up everything except the possibility to do unto others what you think they did to you.
But baby,
Let´s not sing this song again. I already know the lyrics.
I don´t want to be on that cross you want to nail me to. It´s windy and cold up there and there is no stairs where I can climb down.
So even if you know me and I know you, even though we never met. Lets just pass-by each other.
Because I am not the one you think, the one you want me to be.
Let´s just leave each other alone.
It aint me babe.
It aint me you looking for babe.

 

 

 

 

 

 


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Postat av: Rasta Popolov

Du skriver på ett obegripligt imperialistspråk.

2012-04-13 @ 17:07:35

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