Café Crem

Art, Music and Words around The Coffee Table

Bubble Boy – 18 –

Bubble Boy - 18 - , by Miki

Bubble Boy - 18 - , by Miki

(Original German Version)

(Bubble Boy – 1 –)     (Bubble Boy – 17 –)

And here he was now, our little hero, for the first time in his life asking himself the question:
“What now?”

They waited all three at the crossing. Barbra, who at the beginning full with anger and impatience had wildly screamed and … around  in her bottle, but had finally calmed down, suddenly noticing the bitter taste of the poison on her lips. She probably took now the opportunity to learn patience and reason or, what is even more probable, to develop a devilish escaping plan.

In the meanwhile Bub noticed that something weird was happening in his head, something similar to the feeling he had had as he had started to grow in his bubble. He noticed how this something started to move  around, as if it was trying to free itself. It took some time and some wild manoeuvres in his brain, but then suddenly it came out, in form of words. These words were the answer to the very first question  Bub had ever asked himself in his life, “What Now?” and they were spoken by an a voice inside of him. The voice was saying:

“All directions are equal. Just chose one and you will soon see if it is the right one for you. If not, just come back to the crossing and try another one!”
Every normal people on earth knows this voice, it is what we call our inner voice. Some among us hear it more often then others, saying weird stuff, dangerous even, and these people have to be locked in then. But normally our inner voice is quite useful,  always trying to help us and give us advice when we don’t know better.

“When it doe not matter which direction I should chose, then I go here!”, he said to himself. And without having a clue what that meant, Bub went towards North. I guess he simply felt attracted by the blue colour at the horizon, remember, the same colour as his jacket! But of course Bub himself didn’t know anything about this kind of deep psychology and just walked to North.

Tiwoo, after this short rest, was really impatient to fly again. And like before she was firmly decided not to let Bub one second from the eyes, ready to free Barbra if any occasion presented itself. She spent her time in the air flying circles above his head, trying to see the little Witch in the bottle, or at least some movement in the pocket, but it was all still there. She could not help worrying a little bit, wondering if Barbra was still alive. Imagining her inside of an almost full poison bottle with her quick-tempered character was not very comforting But well, Bub had still both hands in his pockets and it was clear that there was not room for wild exercises inside there. No room to free her, but also no room for Barbra to move and to get killed , and this was rather reassuring.

On the way towards North, the air became colder and Bub —his hands deeper in his pockets. Barbra in her bottle thought that it was the end now, the bottle due to the pressure would soon explode in thousand pieces and she would die drowned into the poison.
What an irony  would it be by the way, wouldn’t it? Drowned in her own poison! Well, these things happen in life to really nasty people, you know. But as I said earlier on Barbra was not really nasty and the bottle didn’t break.  Bub might have lost the memory from before the landing, but he knew everything from after and had not forgotten, of course, about the bottle in his pocket!

A strong wind also came up and blew in Tiwoo’s hair. The owl was really fed up, she gradually didn’t enjoy the flying anymore. In fact she was a good weather bird and she hated all these brutal gusts all around her, which continuously menaced to bring her out of the balance. Bub also was suffering, thinking that he didn’t really like this way, and even less when it started to get stony and steep.

But then, as he was thinking to go back, the way suddenly stopped and in front of them stood gigantic white stony walls erected towards the sky.
These stony walls -what normal earth people call mountains, of course- reminded him of something, but he didn’t know what. He just had the feeling to have seen something like that before.

We of course know, don’t we?

Far away behind the mountains he could see a light stripe in the sky, so different from the sky from Barbra’s land where it was always so dark. In this moment for the first time he wondered why it was always so dark there, not knowing that Barbra had made a mistake and conjured  the sun away! He felt that he loved that light stripe. it awoke in Bub a certain feeling which we will call nostalgia , or even better homesickness. But Bub of course still didn’t remember anything about his home, and just wondered again about all these weird things which were going on inside of him.
Anyway, even if he liked the light far away, he could not go through the mountains to reach it, so he remembered the word of his inner voice and knew  that this was not his way. He decided to go back to the crossing.

(next instalment on Thursday 12th March 2009)

By Miki


March 5, 2009 Posted by | Art, Cafe L'Arte, Cafe Literati, children, humor, Miki's Paintings, Miki's Tale Bubble Boy, painting, personal, psychology, writing | , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 2 Comments

Tree Gods


Tree Gods


They wait, these trees.

Slender children of older gods,

Mighty as towers but long gone,

Fallen to ruin and leaf mould.

They wait, these trees.

Winters pass like melting snow;

The glades grow dense, with brambles

Hiding their burrowing feet.

Moss-furred stumps,

The bones of their ancestors

Remind them of past glories.

They wait, these trees.

Summers pass like blooming flowers.

The dells ring with song

And deer run in hidden paths

Of dappled sun and shade.

They wait, these trees.

The tiny child grows up,

Grows old and passes on,

Houses rise and houses fall

Towns boom, towns bust,

Kings and queens come and go.

The trees alone remain.

March 5, 2009 Posted by | Cafe Literati, nature, photo, Viv's Art, Viv's Poetry | , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

A Brush with Poetry -1- : Aftermath

Cafe Crem being above all the place where artists, musicians, writers, poets, etc. share and combine  their art, we (Miki & Kev Moore) will present you here this collaborative work between us,  which we initially called “A Brush with Poetry”.  It is a “third art form” created by Kev´s interpretation of Miki´s paintings through poetry and accompanying music.

We will start with Aftermath which was the first of the series.

(click on the arrow below the picture to hear the music and Kev Moore reciting the poem)



Below Kev Moore performing the Brush with Poetry series at a Cafe Gallery in Mojacar (Provincia de Almeria, Spain)


By Miki & Kev Moore

March 5, 2009 Posted by | Art, Ca' Puccini, Cafe L'Arte, Cafe Literati, Kev Moore's Music, Kev Moore's Poetry, Miki's Paintings, poetry, writing | , , , , , , , , , | 3 Comments