armchair poetry - hairdresser anthem

Six short poems I wrote in a hair salon, inspired by the music, me and the people there.

The soft finish of leather armchairs

music like a flowing mist

trough the hair salon



The excitement or is it

fear



A book in front of the mirror

not my biography

hers

the woman

Norma jean



***



Me

the word of I

the self

constructed, build, reformed

the word of I

the identity

constructed, vanished, reunited



***



The sound of

one hundred helicopters

your body underneath

the crowd is turning

against you



No sound just the noise of

one hundred helicopters

your body craving

the crowd is turning

closing up around you



The final solution: shut down the engine



***



When did it start

this ever lasting circle

of excitment?

When did it start

this ongoing world

of non-stop motion?



When

did

it



The change

the fall

that always arrives

to late

to early



***



Ambivalence

the naive

history of life

never sure

always sure

Give me a path

to follow



***



And I will walk

straight forward

my head high

I'll look straight in to

the eyes

of the people

who

degenerated

me