Marc Hurkmans

Rookie - 0 Points (27-02-1967 / Nederweert)

Twin Towers - Poem by Marc Hurkmans

I

I, the man, you, the woman,
we, a world that’s lost forever

Twin towers,
nine one one

Osama bin Laden,
the war against terror

Haven’t we already lost it, living in fear
before those airplanes learn to fly again

Twin towers, a world
dictated by opposites

Islam, christianity
capitalism, communism

Men, women
cats, dogs

Good music,
bad music

Before nine one one, was the
world more or less our home

Home sweet home,
home sweet home sweetheart

Is there a place for us,
underneath the sun

In the burning night, waiting for eachother

To collapse, into eachother’s arms


II

I, the man, you, the woman,
we, a world that’s lost forever

Why does love never work,
at least not for a long time

If you know the answer to that question
you hold the key to the universe in your hands

Home is where the heart is,
home is where my art is

Music sweet music, to be
blown away by amplifiers

By the sound and the
energy and the light

To hold the key to the universe
in your hands for a while

Like in a landscape of brilliant city lights at night,
the fast lane is where to shake off the pain

Inside beats this engine called heart,
until all braincells start their witchdance

Free animals in wildest places,
I welcome you

For a while, we escape from all this,
transcendence as a means to an end

But the brilliant nights never really end,
living on in our nerve systems, until we meet again

In the few forbidden places that are left

Underneath the sun


III

I, the man, you, the woman,
we, a world that’s lost forever

Sometimes I miss you more
than I miss my own life

To be carried away
on angel’s wings

You
you know

You know it
you know it wouldn’t last forever

But always there is hope,
as long as your heart beats

As long as you refuse to change the sheets,
and the smells remind you

Home sweet home,
home sweet home sweetheart

I wanted to create a place where
our children could grow up safe

Now all I have to offer
them is ground zero

Ground zero, let the
countdown begin

Don’t worry,
be unhappy

Because unhappiness is a far
greater source of inspiration

Ground zero

Let the countdown begin


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Poem Submitted: Thursday, December 17, 2009



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