symphony of desire

i want to live in the fire
i drown in desire
heart is shaking
waves are breaking
all inside my body
in a fever
so eager to live
all the hopes that
I kiss
when I go to bed
and feel lonely
in a skin
I wish to shed
for it wraps me up
in loneliness
and screams in
agony
for slipping and dripping
into you
in ecstatic pleasure
and love spilling cruise

seasons (unfinished)

i feel it on
i feel it in
my skin
something pouring down on me
a hail of nails
a rain of bliss
i lick my lips
and taste the wet that
purifies?
causes?
stains i get
while chasing and crazing
my mind into a maze

the wet is blood
the wet is rain
who knows what
eases
inflicts
pain


in the maze
i race
ignorant to its nature
a garden of seasons
changed by the posture
I take on to walk
in its shades
humble or in grace?

nails might pierce or cover me
in a red blood dress
the elixier of life
and I caress the thorns
that promise
a bed of roses

rain might drench me
in cold misery
or radiate in a glimpse of light
and cover my skin
in a glow of desire
naked
pure
and coming to life
with the roses awaiting
the lovers at night

in my hands

empty, so empty
my hurting hands
here´s a face
it will be erased
i am afraid

i blast it all out
give me the night
and i´ll shine so bright
in images & words
rainbow coloured reflections
of a malicious
eruptive mind
a beauty, a lover, a temptress
i´m none of that kind

i hide in disguise
and crave adoration
but just as you see me
i withdraw in tears
for my hands feel empty
and so i´ve no right
to make you believe
that there´s anything,
anything at all
that i could give to you

to keep you warm
to dream on your chest
to keep up with all
that you posses
youth, virility, brains & hearts

so much less
such a mess
that´s me
how i see me
and i hate it
don´t know how to feel
don`t know what is real

when i open my hands
would i still exist
when you take them
can i make it
be there for you
be there for myself
and cure the feeble girl
who´s no fake
no delirious, inferiour waste

i want to make love
create birth on an earth
ready to bring me to live
and hand you a flattering butterfly
that had died in clenched fists
waiting for me
to raise it
in a loving, brave kiss

i don´t want to leave thee
don´t want to deceive thee
liberty! screams my heart
and i will fight
until my heart believes in the beauty
my mind so fiercely denies
dreams will come true
i´ll open my hands
and make love to you

Pleasure & Pain

pleasure and pain
and in between
the sweet innocence
of a hiding game

back and forth
in the channels that nurse
the coloured shades
of gleaming and dreaming
together in daylight

a twist of the tongue
a cover undone
words, airs, gins
tickling with pleasure
in the battle of skins
crossing the border
invasion
who wins?

running through the rain
madly resisting
pleasure and pain
lips that plead
doubts demanding retreat

at night
at flight
but nobody waves goodbye
nobody wants to return
to the burden
of blank lonely dreams
stabbing a heart
ripe with pleasure and pain
to be unveiled
to be heard
to be answered

feeling just right
together at night
two hands, hearts, hopes
leaving to be one
exploding on the run
flowing and glowing
into sunbeams at dawn
and kissing the starlight
from wondering eyes

Mornington Crescent

Mornington Crescent
even the rain is pleasant
here at the start
here just to part
for the instance of a glance
at the life we don´t want
then back to the needs
that with romance we feed
in the red-bricked corners
at Mornington Crescent

A crescent moon
promising a full life
that we´ll die for
in bloom
crescent shaped borderline
dangling above the abyss
of fear, hate, loss

Mornington Crescent
a stone that is tossed
onto the crossroad
gets lost
collect it
-we are both rejected
see me!
free me!

Lonely lovers
on the run
into the cradle, into the dirt
into the underworld
to reappear as one
without fear
at Mornington Crescent

Graced
by a humming hymn of hearts
beating together
fighting like never
so much to feel
so much revealed
in the pleasant rain
at Mornington Crescent

refound December thoughts....

“There is beauty, love, inspiration, darkness, despair & fear in your life. But your eyes, your expression, your words speak of great hunger- an endless painful longing that gnaws at your heart and soul and creates a huge emptiness. You fall from stars rather than into them. You stuff life into yourself wastefully, but your inner landscape remains a shaky island threatened by the harsh winds of (self-) detest that wash merciless waves of destruction over you. You are soaked in dirt, you freeze, you shake, you cry, you die of loneliness. And still you rebel, you rage against a menacing world of which you assume that it is outside when it is inside you. You bring yourself to a fall. The outside just echoes what is going on inside. The dirt thrown into your face equals the poison you drown your screaming soul in. Your soul keeps on rumbling and fighting and resisting - so do the people who wash the dirt off your face to touch the wet burning cheeks of the angel boy underneath…”


“One and the same. Every day breathing in, breathing out. Traceless footsteps on swept floors. Words uttered and forgotten. Hours of thought dumped into a waste bin. The icy horror of hollowness creeps up my spine. I mute it with the transient pleasure of wearing a newly bought jacket. Everyday I collect shells when I marsh the shores of deeper seas hidden inside those people I meet- in gazes, touches, words & gestures. By the end of the day the shells have become one and the same - empty, indistinguishable, stripped off covers. I stuff them into boxes placed on the edge of my memory. Silently they tip over and into oblivion. If I printed my heart into the sand, would you wipe out the trace? Careless but without intent or on purpose but without a reason? This is what we do to each other every day. Our shores and shells stay one and the same. But what do we take with us into the sea if all we achieve with our floods of life is erasure of traces rather than collection of the trace-makers? Are we afraid to drown each other? Are we afraid of the depths in each other that might harm us if we reach out too far- if we gaze too long, touch too passionately, give wings to words, invite with gestures, sing along to our soul´s melody & poetry so it may find an echo? Blessed be the Obsessed because they know neither measure nor fear of getting lost. What is all the restriction good for? Why rather hide than give ourselves? What is worse: Getting hurt or remaining untouched, an oblivious memory, gathered for a moment, forgotten for eternity? My need for self-exposure might be my weakness but my incapability of hiding myself might be my ticket to ride straight into another´s unanswered heart. A heart asking: Who pulls into her arms the mighty feelings of my true and inner Me that I push into a starless sky without direction? It´s me. Come to me. We are for each other the long awaited fulfillment of the wishes we made when we first saw a shooting star. Out there you are. Here I am. I will find you. I promise.”