Beat

I am standing on the side of the stage. Nerves are raging through my body while other players are standing on the stage in the spotlight doing their performance. The neckband of the guitar hanging around my neck feels heavy. The curtains drop and stage hands spring into action to setup the stage for us. Setting up drums, mic stands and keyboard. I grip my guitar a bit tighter then necessary and we all go to our places on the stage. We only get an short look at each other before the curtains go up again.
Then it's time, the curtains go up and the drums start playing the rhythm of our first song followed by me who is playing the bass. The keyboard and finally the guitarist completes the sound of our song. The lights blind me when the curtains are completely up and they make it difficult for me to look beyond them. Although we can't see past the lights the sound does and gives us the feedback we want to hear. The song appeals to the public. The sound of screaming people reaches us as the song ends and we catch our breaths for a moment. We glance a look at each other and on their faces I can see how I feel, knowing they can also see it on my face. The fear that we had at the beginning is gone and was replaced by happiness and joy. Without waiting we start our next song. The rest of the concert goes by in a flash leaving only the memory of the musical beat from the songs resonating from our bodies and instruments into our very beings with the cheers from the croud as support.

Ghost lullaby

In the empty room on the end of the hallway this time, in another room the next or in the hallway itself the time after that. People have come to the place before and all have claimed to have heard it. A strange sound on moonless nights like a soft breeze of the wind. Others claim it's like a musicbox that makes soft plinking sounds but it's always a strange tune. When you try to look for it the sound moves or disappears only to reappear somewhere else. The sound both follows and is followed by you as you walk through the place. The longer you stay in the place you get the feeling the sound gains volume as though amplified by the walls around you. It gives you the feeling that you are getting closer to the source. The sound now fills the room you entered but still is it impossible to tell what it is, although you get the feeling that you know it. It keeps luring you to the center of the room, where the feeling of familiarity is coming from. As you try to figure out where you heard the sound before you come in the center of the room and you close your eyes to focus on the sound. Slowly your mind fills with flashes of memories of the past, except it's not your past. Although the memories have a calming effect they are laced with an eery edge as if something bad is going to happen. You open your eyes again and look around the room to find the source of the sound but you can't find anything. Although the room has been empty for a long time you can still see what used to be in the room, as if the images are carried by the sound. Then the sound grows more familiar and your feeling of unease grows as you still can't find the source. The sound changes into a lullaby as it keeps awakening the memories that are not yours. You start humming along with the lullaby and as soon as you hear a voice you realise that it is your own that is singing along at first unclear but slowly gaining power. You notice that its an lullaby that you should not know. While this is happening the flashes of memories increase and your sences are on overdrive. Someone is coming up from behind you, or is it an memory? The line between present and past blurrs as the lullaby reaches its peak and you turn around. The air in the room grows cold the sound stops and everything turns black.

City of angels

They are all around as I walk daydreaming through the city. Unknown to me and themselves angels are walking around me, in the street I currently walk in or in the next street over. A Lady is helping an elderly woman crossing the street. She doesn't consider herself an angel but with a bit imagination I can see the white wings on the lady's back. To  the old woman she is an angel that helped her out. Not much later a young man helps up a girl that tripped. Again I can see the stereotype with wings. I think that people that help others can be considered one in one way or the other. If you look at it that way everybody is somebody's angels in a way and if everybody is an angel then is the entire city filled with them. A man that is sitting on a bench next to a girl that is talking to him with tearfilled eyes and the man then putting his arm around her in an attempt to comfort her while listening to her story. A way to be an angel to somebody just by listening to them and give them a vent out of their troubles. These are some of the best angels that there are, for they have infinetly broad backs to help carry a load of someone else. Although this city is filled with them there are those that stand out more than others. Be it with their actions or just being there at the right time and place. Their wings are more clear than others and we have to cherish them the most because in my eyes they are the angels to the angels. So daydream and see the wings for yourselves in your own city of angels for I'm sure that they are there. Unknown to you and themselves.

girl in the rain

I sit on a bench at a bus-stop waiting for the bus and staring out infront of me. On the other side of the street i see a girl. Radiant as the sun she seems unaware of the rain coming down or of her surroundings. Her moves surprise me and catch my attention. Two quick steps forward followed by a jump just before a pirouette. Unaware of her surroundings she passes people that look at her with as much surprise on their faces as on mine. One leg goes up to her back as her upper body moves down. Then she moves up again, lowering her leg. A slow pirouette and then two steps back. For some odd reason she keeps being stuck in my gaze with a dreamy look on her face. The rain intensifies and more people take shelter at the bus stop, forcing me to stand up in order to see her. I happily give my seat to an elderly lady and move a bit forward. Still she seems unaware of the rain as she continues her dance on the other side of the street. Her leg goes up again, this time infront of her while she leans back. Her hands land on the ground at the bottom of a puddel. A short pause. The bus announces its arrival with the sound of its diesel engine and I look away from the girl to see if it is the bus that I need. When I look back I see the girl is standing normally again and looking at me. The smile she shows warms me inside and makes me forget my surroundings only to be thrown back into reality by the bus that fills my view. In the bus I look at the other side of the street to see the girl making a bow and waving at me, before the bus takes me away from her.

forest of dreams

Lying in bed, you feel the sleep taking over your body. Slowly closing your eyes you ascend in your mind to the place of places. They rise before you as an ancient forest, dreams for you to pick from like you would pick a tree for christmas, although these trees are much bigger. The forest stretches out before you in every direction you look. A small breeze makes the leaves rustle as you look around. Trees you touch show a film, the embodyment of your dreams. In one you're a dog chasing after a ball that has been thrown, in another you're a manager holding a speech at a big banquet. Each tree, a different dream. But where good dreams exist bad ones do aswell, and you see some trees that look as if they were about to die. As you touch the tree you see why. In this dream you loose control over your car and crash into a bridge. Startled you take a few steps back from your dream. A dream of death, a dyeing tree, even in this quiet forest not everything is merry and good, even here bad things happen. But in this forest you can step back from the bad things. It's for you to pick your dreams out of this forest, good or bad. This is your dream forest

Angelic wings

Darkness surrounds me as I get the feeling that I'm falling. Even so, I also have the feeling that I'm not alone. I can hear the rustling of feathers beside me. Is someone trying to catch me? Or following me in that dark place just to feed on my remains after I've hit the bottom. A soft voice calls out to me but I can't hear the words. A warm sensation rushes through my body as an arm wraps around me. The sound of beating wings grows stronger, as if to slow me down. Slowly the wind that has been rushing past my ears dies down and I get the sensation of floating in the air. The voice from before is there again but I still don't hear any words. The sound of the birdlike wings captivates me, pushing any thought away. Feathers touch my hair as I slowly feel the warmth of the body that caught me. Even though I can't hear the voice I know that it's there to complete me and help me. My own personal angel.

passing hearts

Two people passing by on a street or square with the sun setting and the moon claming its place in the sky. In an instant their eyes lock and a spark flies. As fast as it happens it is over again.They walk on just to stop after a few steps.
‘Who was that?’ They turn around but can’t see the other in the crowd.  Both have the wish to see the other just one more time, to confirm it wasn’t a dream. As if moved by destiny the crowd splits apart and the two catch each other's eye again. Another spark flies between them before the crowd closes up. Love? Lust? Both? Or soulmates? Who knows.  Destiny moves in strange ways. For now they just pass each other, leaving each other's memory imprinted with their smell, their look and their hearts until destiny brings them together again.

battlefield survivor

Silence was the first thing I became aware of. Unaware that the battle was won. The last thing I could remember was the axe coming towards me and when I woke up again I was in the tent for the wounded and dying. The weird part of it was that I was the only one in there. I tried to move, sit upright but I was unable to, bound by my wrists and ankles to the bed. The tent opening went open and a couple of heads appeared. They looked familiar but the expression on their faces was a surprise and i saw that Happiness and fear were fighting on their faces. The heads disappeared again to make place for another one. Her I did know. She was the one that lead us on the battlefield. "You gave us quite a scare" was the first thing she said. Slowly she walked in and sat down on the side of my bed and after giving me a worried look, she started telling. Apparently just before the axe struck me something extraordinary had happened. The fear of dying had awoken a dormant power within me. Friend and foe died in a massive explosion that seemed to emanate from within me. It was the power of my people.

sun rays in the city

The darkness disappeared and the heavy rains that plagued the city became wind. Although there were still few people on the streets of the city I felt the change as something good. The rest that the city breathed after the violence of the storm was inspiring. The first sun rays touched my face and I closed my eyes to enjoy just their warmth. Thick droplets from the wet trees and the street shone golden in the light of the sun. An empty city in the first sun rays is a beautiful sight and for just a short moment you will imagine yourself in an abandoned city.

talking, thinking, standing

What would a statue think if it could?
Standing all day long on the same spot while people are walking by, taking pictures, laughing while pointing at you. Would a statue think "Leave me alone." or would it stand in position just for the pictures? It would be something extraordinary if you found a statue suddenly talking to you. Stone and iron that moves, making gestures – of course presuming that it’s not abstract art. It would be a bit weird if abstract art were to suddenly be walking down the street. Me personally, I wouldn't want that. For what I'm concerned it’s better that statues can't talk or think but just stand.

watercity

The water was flowing in the channels that were made in the side of the streets. The city was standing in the river and the water had to flow somewhere. So was the birth of the channels that everybody used. Some were covered and were used for the waste of all kinds of the city. They people made sure that the waste did get removed from the water before sending it back in the river. Other channels were used for the drinking water. The sight of the half full channels with clean clear water is fantastic as it's flowing down the city that gave it its name: Watercity.