minute 05


I lay down
And go up high
I put a body to the ground
And watch into a nightly sky

You stand up
Lean in to me
As you whisper sounds corrupt
I see a storm bubbling up from the see

There is a window, we must escape
There is someone out there, we have to help
Thousands are out there hideously crying
Thousand chances passed, we stay, we keep on dying

Now I kneel
It is coming closer
Thunder will roll, thunder will heal
Forgive us now or chase us forever

At the end of the night, storm has arrived
Thousands and thousands of butterflies
Skulls on their wings
Blood on mine
Hands too


At first I tried to take the pictures I could identify during the 1 minute, transform them into words describing them best and align them so they would rhyme. After a while, I found myself imagining my own pictures. I saw people, I saw the things they were doing and how they talked witch each other. I heard them talk, and I listened. Somehow, reading the poem now, I think of a Tarantino movie. I find it hilarious that it turned out like to be some sort of short script, really compressed of course. There was a glimpse as I wrote down the first few lines, than it changed into something different, something really serious. They way I finished it brought me back to my friend Quentin. I thought about Kill Bill, I thought about Jules Winnfield, I actually also thought about a song from my favorite band and even brought in a quote. Maybe you can identify it reading it again, maybe you recognized it at first sight and you already know what I am talking about. I liked this minute. It helped me create, and I am good at it I think. I honestly think this is a good poem. It was written in twenty minutes, which, from my point of view, makes it even better. But whatever, this whole explanation is just the way I felt the whole thing. How do you feel about it? Good Bye.