echo
the echo sound
of still remembered
odd instructions
the humiliating feature
highly emphasized
initial attribute attached
to freshly job description
white rounded letters
on transparent, squared tags
esthetically reminding function associated
to long-lasting preservation
of remnants, crumbs
of controversial value
gathered and displayed.
as for additional
protective measure
obstructed windows
did increase
the same
still burning waves of such ,now,
far remote distressing memories
which slowly molded the perception
of the place full of restriction.
Escorting
thoughts
for sake of your own
imaginary game
harmonious play
with endless free
interpretations
na lo lagat, lo ledaber
don' t touch, don' t talk |
suppressing echo
of my own translation
behind the gracious scene
the daily battlefield
of the misfit
anca laxer 98
I do exist, do i?
Undaunted disregard
Of strenuous
Skillful efforts
Gathered
To hold me
In disgrace,
Deeply tormented
And yet I do exist
An almost virtual truth
Obscured in misery
Prone to trespass
Forbidden limits
.Of my intimate confinement
I do exist
In abandon
In healing harmony
Allowing pungent doubts
To touch me
In powerful assails,
incessant pester of
undeniable relapses
And yet engaged
In spirited endeavor
To revive
The missing radiance
Anca Laxer 98
hiding place
Unending wasted. days
filled with sour desperation
destruction and denial fell upon myself
without the means to lift my soul
and save it
it's the return one day
from emptiness and dumbness
the coming back
unnoticed turning point
resembling Primavera
full of hopes again
a tiny opened door
which suddenly appears
,through infinite black space
of nothingness, of deadly silenced fear
and takes me ,gently through,
to charming hiding place
from where I start again
to dream ,to hope, to be
and to remember everything
I once adored
But not for long
under the superficial layer of beauty and prestige
the air inside is heavy and oppressive
the heat surrounding ,creeping in somehow
it's there even when it isn't
the silence paired with whispers
don't feed my greedy hopes
and don't succeed to help forget
the wasted time
obsessive thoughts
the space is gentle and inviting to delight
when finally alone with me, unnoticed
among the non-disturbing people ,coming in.
the time is in my hands
I should be overjoyed
it's only me and in my power
to unify the gifts and pain and beauty
to let them
dance and party in the gorgeous space
where no one interferes
but air inside is heavy and oppressive
the place is sealed from any trace
of threatening reality
it's only me who does insert
unknown, incessant insecurity,
the agitation and reaction to events
into the well preserved sterility.
Anca Laxer 98
deadend
In here, TIME is loosing TEMPO
The sun forgets to glow
And my arrival never greeted.
I enter and I see the gloomy faces
Without a blossom smile, for me
Just always eager to remind
about my awkward, undesired presence,
Before I even start the daily drudgery
And contemplate in helpless mood
The passing TIME in hostile stillness.
The air is charged with tacit confrontation
no words are ever uttered,
unnecessarily dissipated,
yet amplified contemptuous thoughts
are roaring, translated into silenced hate.
o-pressed in subtle ways,
in fact suspended, in disgrace,
removed from stimulating action
whatever seems to be, the shapes it takes.
reminded, in no subtle ways,
in bold straight, charged
with intimate resentment moves,
in unexpected, trivial moments
about my awkward, undesired presence
about the lack of ties, with my surroundings
I find myself deeper engaged
In random exercise to overcome distress.
Each motion stirring anxiously
The stagnant atmosphere
A clear statement signed with
Raging fury and desire to escape
Anca Laxer 98
