Tuesday, 2 April 2013

Life’s Three Phases So Far

A beer, a dark one
Not very tasty, not very sophisticated
I let its fading foam foam on my tongue
And think about its fake complexity

It’s the opposite of my muse
Who is a puzzle, and a hard one too
Every time you think you’re almost done
A new piece shows up
Or the ones you have put together

What can I do to lighten her darkness
What can I do to sweeten her taste
Make her creativity erupt
Her words pour out

I move on to youth with a cup of green tea

Fruit liqueur, apricot
I smell it, I sip it, I taste it
Immersing my mouth, blending with saliva
Wondering if I like it or not

Subtle or simple? Not sure
OK for a start, nauseating when it stays
It’s like overwhelming feelings
Except not worth it
Is it in, is it out, where is it all?
What is it all, how does it make me feel?
If at all —

— tell me, muse
How to taste it the right way
How to enjoy it for real
Or at least decide if I like it or not
This faky-fruity thing full of a flavour and a colour
That it should not have
Tell me
I might listen, I might even understand

I let my youth be, swallowing it with some water

Then I grew up
And tasted the brandy
A special one, a rare one
A mature one, hidden away, only waiting
For me to taste and maybe savour

I waited for it, I hesitated
I put the glass back without trying
And went on with things
Thinking I could postpone maturity

I did so a few times
Taking the glass, putting it down
When I finally tried the brandy
It was strangely neutral
I was strangely numb
And perhaps mature
So I poured it out
After a sip or two
And went on with water
Went back to the source
Found myself
Found a place for my muse
And for myself


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