poems by Tanya Verver

Jeder stirbt für sich allein

I tell a tale, you tell a lie
Doch jeder stirbt für sich allein
In the last tale, your soul for sale
The truth you stood for no good
Dance to the music of your soul
The never ending rock-n-roll
Touch to the bottom of your heart
Where someone is playing his card
Not much is left till his last choice
You fall asleep to the white noise
You wake up in the brand new world
Surviving the eternal cold
What’s left till our last good bye
We both cry, we both die

October 2022

 

 

 

Story of Paula Yates

Same tainted glory and love that waits.
Different story of Paula Yates.
Sigh how creepy all’d seem to look
Were it another unwritten book.
Life goes on or life goes by,
Right when the eyes that have long gone dry
Burst into tears and flood away
Wrecked by the strength of the timeless game.
Tell me a tale, save me a gun.
One silent moment and I am gone.
Death, broken laughter of foreign space.
What happened after her fragile waist
Has disappeared within strong arms
Try to ignore all the alarms
Fire’s the magnet for the moth
The same old trap as overdose
Putting the faith in the insane
Choosing to burn within the flame.

 

 

 

Birds of Wildly Coloured Feather

Are you afraid to move and grow, baby,
What are you stumbling at, so forgetful,
Am I repeating the mistake that maybe
I could succeed in changing paling spectrum
Of colours quietly blushing in your soul
Touching the edges of the others’ auras
Having pre-captured sooner falling stones
Did you just think you are better off without
Going further, waiting week by week
Always staying aloof, afraid of acting
Don’t you see that I am almost fainting
It’s been too hard or I am just too weak
I do not see what change you are waiting for
Leaving « as is » or trying simpler options
Getting the worst out of me before
You start feeling the slightest of emotions.
Yet, other thoughts are flashing in your mind
I’m feeling stuck by always guessing whether
Talking of birds of wildly coloured feather
You really tried to understand what kind.

London 2011

 

poems by Tanya Verver

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