by Dominik Alexander
A poem about one of my paintings: Recently I broached the idea of the abstract children’s book, I also said that it was just playing with a thought. I am grateful that I can afford this gimmick without looking at the result. But, and I experience this repeatedly, something always comes out of it.
And so also in this case and I would like to write about it today. It started like this:
I had mentioned that I would find someone who would then write me a story about the illustrations. That same evening, while I was already in bed, I rechecked WP and came across a poem by Dominik Alexander. I didn’t know him, but the poem made a big impression on me. So much so that I kept browsing.
The next day I thought: Hey, why don’t you ask him if he would like to write a text about one of your pictures (not the children’s pictures). And as luck would have it, he messaged me and said he liked my work and would like to write a poem about it 😊
A few emails back and forth and we decided it was worth a try. I emphasized that he had complete freedom. No instructions from me on the selection of the image or the type of text.
And this is the poem that Dominik Alexander wrote:
Wait! Did You Really Call Me a Taxi?
I like it here
With my wisdom in a sphere
Of blue and green
Haven’t you seen
The colours of the sand
In that shift of a land
Between soil and sea
Can’t you see
What matters most
Perhaps you’ve been lost
For so long
My mind wasn’t strong
It wanted attention
And got suspension
From family and friends
But imagination attempts
To suggest what you wish
Then the brain prepares a dish
That looks tasty and good
In the end there was no food
Just the power of self-destruction
At least you could find satisfaction
From the image on the wall
Standing there bright and tall
Looking at you from the mirror;
So, now, I’m here
Ready to tear
My memory into the past
Where it’ll hopefully last
The darkness is gone
And my desire strong
To dive deep from the shore
To observe the core
From the waters unseen
I’m really that keen
Singling out what’s new
And fabulously true
To the inner sense
Without borders or any fence
My mind knows no boundaries
There are just tiny accessories
Swept into the thought
But here they’re just drought
And dried back to the soil
Where they lastly grow another foil
For the living and the dead
It would be sad
And a self-fulfilling prophecy
Can’t you see the discrepancy
Between here and there?
Please, call it off
I don’t need that stuff
The signs of civilization
Because imagination
Is enough to fulfil
And that’s not a drill
My longing for the colourful sea
Grant the taxi driver his fee
Take my money and go
Leave me here in my flow
To enjoy the wisdom of the water
And take it as a starter
For a better life without fear
Take it from me, my dear
There is more down there than we know
Because up here is just a show
Let the taxi go and breathe
With me and avoid to seethe
Enjoy the music of the whistling ocean
Allow yourself that glooming emotion
That only grows with a present mind
Let go of the civilization of some kind
Dive with me deep down into the greenish blue
Let me take your hand to lead you through
The most satisfying existence.
© Dominik Alexander / 2023
And so another collaboration has developed, which I am very happy about. I’ve already written about some collaborations, especially the one with Wolfgang Kubin and Jack Dorner.
The next logical step is that I write a picture for one of his texts. There is enough choice since Dominik Alexander presents his blog scriptorium77 with many very appealing texts on different areas. His point of view, his philosophy, and his claim to modern texts are also very close to my thoughts.
about:
Dominik Alexander studied history, philosophy and German literature. He writes poems, short stories, novellas, plays, sonnets, haikus and journalism stuff. He lives and works in Dresden.
Smoking Hot Sunday
Left my body in the shadow
Still there is the mirrored meadow
Burning leaves upon my skin —
Wasted days of weekend freedom
Only for my need to read an’
Nothing else I had to do —
Wanted so much more to write for
Or the train for my riding encore
Left my rhythm here just fine —
When the burning woods send smoking
Hot and sweaty breath of joking
No one else is laughing here —
So I went to bed on Sunday
Grinning came tomorrow’s Monday
Not much time for sleeping though.
© Dominik Alexander / 2023
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