Monolog in Traumsprache

The beast´s monologue, ongoing,
is made up of the crack of trees,
shivering waters, of the earth´s creaking,
the break of hearts.

Nourished by decades in the sun, the beast moves slowly and never gets tired nor weary. It´s teeth talk, it´s claws swing, the scalation is the composition; clearly audible in every motion, yet not comprehensible to the wordy mind.

The beast´s monologue is not held in our language. Still, it knows it very well. If you enter it´s territory, the beast´s look may lay on you for a while, but it´s nature it will not reveil - it´s danger will remain your doubt.

You are made of good and bad.
The beast is made of sound.

It´s monologue, ongoing:
The Sax´s sneaking steps, slides and breaths.
The chord-slinging, tremor-turning, dripping piano notes.
The up and down and up again of the boom-ba-boom-ba-bass.
The drums` slam and bang, hiss and fizz - and shut.
The bursting silence of the break.
The reverb.

Every motion of the beast´s body is clearly audible. It´s monologue is held in dreams.

KROKOKO

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