Month: August 2020

Words
Frequently, I use words
But for what?
What happen with those I use?
They leave the muddy tracks of my thoughts
get silently stuck at the surface of a paper,
in black on white.
What do they tell those who reads them?
My choice of words needs you,
otherwise they freeze for ever,
get stuck in my ego,

I feel this urge to write. I produce words every day in a respectable amount. They find a momentary rest on my harddrive. But what story do I tell by continuing doing this? On the 23rd of August 2020, I begin my seventh year doing this. This morning, I have a faint sense of what that story is about: “the words I produce does not adequately go in my favour. Somewhere, there must exist another brook connecting me with the outside world.” I wish I find that brook soon!

In some odd way
words,
closeness
and what I do
are intricately interwoven.

I have to surrender to this,
cause I’m not going to fix it.
I do not have enough time
before long-term storage
of that bodily abode
I am in charge of.

Göran Stille, 9th of August 2020

They made sure
I got used to know
what they said was right.
I went that way too,
like any other.
Became a skillful
but intelligent innocent.

I was fed,
with what they considered as facts.
Rarely did I notice the gaps,
where no one knew anything.
But suddenly I stood there myself,
not knowing anything of value.

At first I thought
it was up to me
a congenital deficiency in my equipments.
I veiled and covered,
always had something to say,
even when I did not know anything.

Last night a large branch broke
on the old pear tree.
The core turned out
to be crushed by ants.

Göran Stille 7 august 2020