Posts Tagged ‘poem’

feet on the ground, head in the clouds

December 20th, 2011 | batsandbows

photo: christina agnæss / lina luka // theartofbatsandbows

where are you going?
this day we were on our way to new smells, the taste of austrian sun and small breadrolls covered in bacon and cheese.
Lina brought her diana mini and i taught her not to cut corners to achieve the feeling of height and depth.

do you really have an idea of where you are going?
you will not end up where you planned.
the beauty you dreamt of, is not the beauty you will live, the fireworks you plan, will not go off.

do you have any idea of what’s coming?
the excitement i’m feeling came from the invisible, from the depths of vampire forests.
i drink your blood and give you mine.

shell. shadow.

October 10th, 2011 | batsandbows

we live in patterns of threads that pull on eachother. remove one, and you might get a hole. destroy several, and you might not have a fabric anymore. sure, you say, what i draw is obvious. look at the fabric though, its part pretty, part ugly. the linen threads amongst the leather braids, it sure is tempting to let leather be left behind. oh see how the linen matches itself and does it all right! only to swallow the blandness, the dullness and porosity of the cleaned up view. her conistency that threw carbonic acid through your veins has bled out, and curls up in tamed obliteration.

the washed out cloth is stitching leather back in now.

photo/text/model: christina agnæss // theartofbatsandbows

it is not worth it

July 17th, 2011 | batsandbows

wanting to hold every ocean, trying to stroke every ray of light,

the shell of your sun more fragile by every line you write, by every statement you glorify
you can not see it
blinded by all over fireflies of short flashes

her skin is tearing, blood loss and salty water spill

you reach out, to feed every firefly. oh how they sparkle!
throwing dices
in the shadows she clings to the armouring of the world
they all watch as organs fail, nails explode and joints let go

the fireflies still enchanting
your sun at her last stage

small bugs will not keep you warm, when your neglected torch has fled.

christina / theartofbatsandbows

endless defendless

June 24th, 2011 | batsandbows

photos: christina / theartofbatsandbows // model: tori

soft pellets of blooming ammunition
rips and cuts of sweetness, barely avoided staying here tonight
at the bleeding end, i will kiss you there

taste sweeter when bleeding

April 5th, 2011 | batsandbows

exasperated, that i avoid nourishing myself
yet so fascinated by the darkest souls

criticising my destructiveness
while attracted to lost butterflies

i polish my edges, quit my poison and reach for higher
you get bored this way and leave the hunt

let me offend you, i will hurt you, and i will be the one you’ll always long for.
Dark, messed up, endless and seductive

christina / theartofbatsandbows


February 8th, 2011 | batsandbows

anything you might have left out?
someone you might have decided not to mention?

bridges close, cars break, heaven cracks and all you did was claim your freedom.

alone. alone together. still alone.

November 7th, 2010 | batsandbows

thinking someone will come close to fill that void, if he can mend the cracks, and warm the frost.

hands stroke, but mine are closer.

looks directed, but mine are deeper.

i will be and you will come, i will leave and you will already have left.


midnight minutes do not wait

November 4th, 2010 | batsandbows

i know the pearls of red embodies mint and grace

swing your hips, wave that flag

these drums will play forever

garden guardian

August 24th, 2010 | batsandbows

I try to sell you a river, a fortress, a piece of the sun.
You rest your weight on me, you know the pillar will hold and lift.
Cheap tricks revealed, i go again.

Losing what repetition has taught me, cultivating feelings for what they are.
Berries melt, i care.

You can feel it.

heart of lust

July 16th, 2010 | batsandbows

theres an ocean of love,
a garden of light
and a heart of lust,
all you need to do is walk,
and the wall will move.

photo: Ingrid Harboe