Gaping Mouths

Invaded by this mass
army of gaping mouths
lingering in the dark
longing to eat me up
faces invisible
no names
no identities
nothing to grasp
the enemy
the lust
the fear
controlling my mind
nesting in my heart
I am driven, pushed
torn, used, worn
and I obey
I give up
anything, anywhere inside
that keeps me back?
I cannot read, decipher the sense
a code hidden
beyond the bulb
that is the moon, that is the eye
I circle a life sign
slipping away from sight
crossed and broken
by violent blood lines
exposed in a new dimension
the moon a bulb
yellow, menacing,
as creepy as your eye
I look away
and it bites my neck
the gaping mouths
who are they and why?
you´re their leader
you make me cry
and you are nothing
and what of all this is my truth, is my lie?
Can I split from my skin
from the falling flower
that is no more
when it can´t keep you in
in the circle
beneath the lines
even if you´re the parasite
slowly sucking away at my light
erasing the beauty, the silent sin
with a dreadful, ignorant grin
Don´t touch me!
Go away!
I follow signs of life on the outside
but my liquid core slips into darkness, endless night
Are you waiting,
waiting among the mouths
whispering in tongues
til I come to believe
they are mine?
Humming a song of self-hate and rage
"You are scum, you are scum"
You are my shadow inside
but your flesh will survive, untouched
Can´t split from the mass
deeply laid in your eyes

Manifestation of what?

Makes me cross the last sign

With one last line

When, oh when and why?

Akt.

Glasscherben, Staub, klebrige Hände, Blut, Dreck, gelbe Kacheln,
Zerfetzte Lamellen
wehen über einen stummen, eingerollten Körper hinweg
flapp, flapp, flattern ins Gesicht
Ein Raum - verlassen, verschmiert
Zeit die sich verliert
auf einem Spielplatz im Herbst
Schatten, Blitzlicht,
Blutfäden, Risse
rot, leer, kalt
der Wahn durchflutet die Luft, die Haut
Und irgendwo brennt es
Nah, näher!
Die Kunst, der Wahn, sie zucken nicht,
fallen nicht ein
ein Spiegel zerbricht
wir sehen Scherben, Wracks, gewaltiges Ungetüm
- träge, derb, unbeeindruckt
verschluckt es mich, verschluckt es dich
Ein Drahtseilakt
allein,
exponiert,
lächelnd,
treibend,
fliehend,
ins Nichts.
Und alles bleibt eingefangen:
Klick. Blitz.
Weg! Raus!
Brennen, rennen
falling like flying
forever
how long? how long is that?
Addicted.
to what?
Rote Sterne stechen durch künstliche Nacht
Im Bildstrom, im Wahn der Illusionen
bin ich ganz nackt, ersoffen
und falle in Fetzen von mir ab
A kidney for a shot
Hit me! Hit me up!
Make me break the waves
I drown in this cave
I´m a clown
let me be, let me feast
and catch the scene!
One more time, one more ride
It´s gonna be night outside soon
Dächer, dumpfer Aufprall, in meiner Imagination
Zeit zu gehen
Ein neuer Spielplatz:
Schnitt. Schuss. Exzess.
Bald.
Ein anderer Raum, erschaffen wie im Traum
Von uns
Alles, ALLES für die Kunst
Grenzen lösen sich auf
keine Würde, Moral
nur machtlos übermächtig
im Rausch
Was ist der Preis?
Große Augen
blind
und alles wird weiß
Was ist zu tun?
Bloß nicht ruhen!
Weiter! Voran!
Ein Konzept. Ein Plan.
again and again
Konzentration. Fokus.
Zupacken!
Genau da, genau dort - drücken, zudrücken, zerdrücken
feste, fester, sofort!
Ein Spiel
- aus Leiden mach Leidenschaft
Blut gerinnt schnell
Mach schneller!
Mehr von dem Elixier
der peitschenden Übermacht
die mir entgegen lacht
Woher? Wohin?
Ins Undenkbare
- die weiße, weiche Box des Augenblicks
Näher als nah.
Ein Blick befühlt mich.
Kalte Haut, sonst nichts.
Ich bin allein
und endlich kann ich einfach sein:
Objekt, Freak, Nichts.
Und ich liebe wie widerlich das ist.
Du gehst nicht weg.

Dresden- 2. Akt:
Das Tempo steigert sich. Gib mir Ort, gib mir Zeit-
ich überfalle dich!
Ein musiches Festmahl:
Sich windender Körper, Hülle, Fleisch
Ausschlachtung! Exzess!
Wie wunderbar abscheulich.
Und keinen kümmert´s, keiner will zusehen.
Das ist das Spiel, das ist die Kunst, das ist der Trick
Wie weit gehts du mit?
Wie nah ist der Abgrund? Wie tief ist er und von welcher Gestalt?
Machst du, mach ich als erstes Halt?
Nur noch ein Stück, nur noch ein Stück...

Darkness visible. Von Angesicht zu Angesicht.

with songs of darkness and words of light
we float in silent sincerity
through another night
the look on your face makes me shy away
makes we want to stay, hold on,
be more naked and shaken than I have been
for a long, long time,
I cannot hold on
my eyes betray me
and sell you my secrets
my wounds, my fears
the loneliest corners where I hide all my tears
and I smile and shiver
inside, outside
i cannot resist
i can only kiss you
and hide my face on your skin
like the little kitten
i thought i have never been
only inside, inside
let me hide, let me hide!
you tell me about your broken heart
aber ich fühl es doch schlagen,
mich schlagen so tief, so lautlos, so stark
ich lass dich gehen, kann dich nicht ansehen
aber du strömst einfach über mich
und dann fass ich mir ein Herz
denk ich
und doch schweige ich
no words, just fears
so hard, and such a struggle
it always is
to let go, be happy,
and seal all the bliss
with a smile, a look
von Angesicht zu Angesicht
close, closer still,
long, longer, unbroken
no escape in skin caves and kisses
look at me
sieh mich an
ich kann
ich will
hier bin ich
ganz ich
ganz mein
und so kann ich dein sein
ohne mich zu verirren, ohne mich verlieren
und schön, so schön ist es
bist du, sind wir
nur hier und jetzt
ich schau in dich rein, doch lass ich dich allein
bei dir, mit dir und all deinen Scherben
und gewähr dir die groben Mannsgebärden
cause silently
my primal scream may echo into your hollow dreams
and fill you with longing for more of this
and make you kiss me for all I got to give you
come to me, I come to you
we´re trembling strangers
and shells on a shore
whitewashed, hollow
but moveable and warm
willst du mit mir reisen
gegen die Zeit?
one, just one tiny rollercoaster ride?
it won´t hurt
du bist hier
ich höre Musik mit dir
und du bist so einer, der dabei nicht stört
selten, wie selten mir das wiederfährt
wie eigentümluch, scheinbar kleinigkeitlich
die Gedanken, in die ich dich einspinne,
doch für Musik gebrauch ich all meine Sinne
and you, yes you are there
to float with me
in silent sincerity
skin on skin
behind our eyes
through the darkness, through the light
with songs that fuel the fate
of all we are
and may become
don´t want to run
don´t want to hide
anymore
dein Herz rauscht nicht nur in meinem Ohr

Die Motte

Sie hat eine Verabredung. Mit einem von diesen oder jenen Burgherren, die in der Festung der facebook community so blind und zielsicher umherschwirren, wie ihre Finger über die Tastatur des Laptops flitzen. Eine Verabredung für´s Naturkundemuseum. Nur so für den intellektuellen Austausch und ein Glas Wein an der Bar – Natürlich!

Sie ist auf dem Weg. Und sie fliegt, flitzt, schwitzt, beduselt, befuselt und viel zu spät dran. Aber das Kleid sitzt. Das Image blitzt. Und Augen ertrinken im Zwielicht – dem hier nicht, dort nicht und schon gar nicht tief, funkelnd, himmelsternlich, sehnend, flehend, tanzend, sehend, bis der Atem bricht. Ihr Kleid, ihr Herz, fliegen im Wind und sie rennt und rennt, geschwind, geschwind und denkt:

„Ich bin wie ein Gedicht, gegen den Strom, fragend, brechend, hungrig, unendlich.“

Und dann hält sie inne. Gepeitscht vom Kampfgeist fühlt sie den Schmerz, wird wieder Herr, FRAU ihrer Sinne.

„Den, nein den doch nicht!“

Aufhören, AUFHÖREN muss sie! Ein verklebter, verschmierter Blick auf den Nachttisch. Haut, Schweiß, Nachtschlick an sich, wie eine Schleimschicht, ein Schneckenragout – blutig, roh, delikates. Hässlich! Hässlich! Abscheulich!

Nein. Sie will es nicht.

Und steht nun da. Das Museum fast so nah, wie die ohnmächtige Szenerie danach. Und sie blickt um sich und dort am Flussufer brennt irgendwo ein Licht.

Das Restaurant sieht nett aus, leer zwar, düster, doch irgendwie feierlich. Sie tritt ein, bestellt ihren Wein. Es ist kühl. Das Kleid schlottert auf der Gänsehaut. Doch sie ist erfüllt, vom Sprühregen des Kerzenlichts – um sich, in sich.

Und dann sitzt da einer.

Nur so ein Gast. Ein Irgendwer, von irgendwoher. Ausgespuckt in die Nacht, etwas verlebt aussehend, Buch bei sich, Stift gezückt, in die Ferne schweift der Blick. Hat wohl irgendwo den Tag, das Leben verbracht – wie sie. War ein Junge einer Mutter, ist der Junge da, hier in Berlin, beschienen vom selben Kerzenlicht, mit denselben, ertrunkenen, versunkenen Augen. Und viel zu bald erhebt er sich, verlässt die Bühne, streift ihren Schatten, als sei´s ihre Haut, die aufblitzt und nicht mehr erlischt. Und dann ward er mal dort gewesen – dort und dann, mit ihr. Und der Moment zerreißt, wie das Papier, auf dem sie ihn nun in Worten niederbricht.

„Aber die Erinnerung, das Herz, vergisst doch nicht!“

Und wie eine Motte, eine Motte schwirr ICH ins Licht, will frei sein, frei sein vom Glashaus, das mich spiegelt, gefangen hält, verbrennt, zerbricht.

Und in die U-Bahn husche ich. Nass, beschmutzt, rattenhaft, vom langen Nagen und Mich-laben und Irren und Wirren in den Kanalsystemen der Unterwelt.

Und da sitzt sie.

Irgendeine Sie. Schick, starr, herrisch, blendend weiß, schön, Plastikgesicht. Ein Karrierefrau, ein Klischee, ein Abziehbild. Mehr sehe ich nicht. Und setze mich.

„Du, Schmetterling“, sagt einer. Irgendeiner von rechts neben mir. Ich reagiere nicht – meint er doch wohl das Modell Plastikgesicht. Er sagt´s, erhebt sich und singt ein Lied –

„the moth, the moth, the moth in the box“

Ich erinnere mich.

Etwas flattert in mir, um mich. Und dann sehe ich auf und weiß, er meint mich. Und ich will noch was sagen, was wirklich Echtes, Gefühltes, Mächtiges, doch dann sind wir U-Warschauer. Türen öffnen sich. Ich zittere und er streckt seine Hand aus nach mir und wie im Spiegel reflektiere ich. Er reicht mir etwas – eine Wunderkerze.

„Ich versprühe, doch verglühe ich nicht.“

Er sagt´s. Ich sag´s. Ohne Worte. Und dann nichts.

Momente, das Leben – so schön, absonderlich. Und mein Leben – das bin ich.

Brighton

stones stroked my hands
smooth shells, mild wind
and no sand
fatty, sweet, and sticky smells
vinegar, candy, cupcakes

eyes closed
and chewing on a tasteful portion
of air, only air
and a tickling happiness
delicate, feeble
like the feathers of seagulls
on the beach
whiter as white
cut out sharply
against the brownish carpet
of seawashed stones

a happiness
mild but soaking
like the summer rain
flaking slowly, shadow-like
from a blueish grey sky

flat on the ground I lay
my jumper a blanket
and a tiny bee that paid me company
afraid to try and find out
she cannot fly
and catching with a longing gaze
in pictures all that hit her ageless face
with beauty and secrets to keep
afraid still to lose it when it sinks in too deep

Message

honey, when I look at that face of yours
I feel like anything, ANYTHING is possible in life
if there are such beautiful, beautiful tings in the world
it hurts to look at you,
it really, really hurts
and it is that pain
that tells me
I am alive
I am here, now
reflected in the crystal blue lakes
that are your eyes
and dazzled by the tiny snowflakes
that are your teeth
and I wallow in the bliss and grace
that your gaze bestows upon me
you are real
and deeply I feel
you can, so I can be anything

Elliptic perfection

Drums, heat, smells & sunbeams
burning on my skin
taning me, greeting me
sweet smell of sweat & lotion
covering my legs, arms,
running down my spine
absorbed there and then
by a tiny summer dress

I´m walking on dry grass & tiny flowers
listening to songs,
to voices of summer
to Latin American drums
smiling & gliding
on the smooth surface
that life can sometimes be
- all surface
no hard feelings,
no digging thoughts,
no cutting, malicious words

Smiles come easily, come naturally
breath equals summer breeze
and I sit on the grass
holding my knees
and counting freckles
like stars
that I may see at night
when all is at peace
and still warm and lovely
from the heat of summer
this summer in the city
that could last longer, last forever

I stretch out my legs
I stretch out into the eternity of the moment
bedded on grass, sand & pebbles
with my moistured skin
and my head in a sky with no clouds

A genuine feeling
of love and perfection
sinks in
has me laughing out loud
has me let go off fear, sadness, doubt
and be content with the simple fact
that perfection can never be reached
it only happens
in an ellipse
like THIS

I close my eyes
and see the reddish flesh of my lids
lit by the sunlight from outside
And I think: "This,
THIS is the view that life begins with."
in a warm, reddish cradle
inside a delicate body
covered in slimy, shiny paste
floating smoothly
and awaiting
the primal, perfect ellipse

painfully alive

farewell wishes
unspoken
sadness
beauty
overwhelment by the whole big concept
of what life is all about
moments
touches
stroking cheeks, hair, necks
words resonating in hearts forever
kisses
laughter
rooms, smells,
coffee
and postcards
tears
falling asleep skin on skin
staring at a ceiling
wishing wearily, desperately
half-smiling
half-crying
so lost
so lonely
that life would end
right there, right then
in a strange room
filled with warmth, breath, dreams
of a stranger
and the thoughts
swallowed tears
and voiceless, begging words
of a girl
lying wide awake
scared
and painfully alive

Strolling strangers (in a bubble)

We were strolling through the night
strangers and wandereres
so different, so alike
a bunch of cheerful shadows
under the street lights
in some other place
than yesterday, than tomorrow
Berlin impressions flickered on each face
that has seen and been
where wild cherries grow

We feasted on melon lemonade, cheap beer and heartfelt melodies
like children in a candy store
lake shell collectors on a shore
we greeted each stranger as a friend
"Cheers mate!"
is where it starts
and sometimes ends

The night was long
and skins turned grey
and we coloured the room with a lullaby song
and curled up in the bubble that made us stay
- a community of strangers
passing and frail
and blown through the loops
of longing and fate
which stole us away
from different lives, countries, homes
that voicelessly resonate in our souls

We floated in a bubble
removed from time, space and inner struggle
Just for one moment, just for one night
our ideals mingled freely
under the same Berlin ceiling
and looked upon us through a lens
seeing light and warm feelings
and children at play
pretending to be pirates, princesses,
Peter Pan and Rapunzel
in one wondrous fairytale

And we conquered a world
that only imagination can reveal
knowing that this night only
it is there, we are one, for real

I don´t believe in love

The tyrant returned
and my eyes still burn
from last night´s illusions
from toxic intrusions
of cutting voices and mocking laughter
that turn me into my own slaughterer

I fell into my bed
all sick and shaky
and deeply I sunk
into the morbid mind of the Depressed
into the shallowest longings of the Drunk
for dirty sex and bloody rituals
to be surpressed

And I filled my lungs
to breathe it all out
to be freed from the load of hate and doubt
and save all those things
that brought me back on track
that saved my life and revealed my luck
to be alive

But what about those nights
where my life just burns out
inside me
and the wings of my lungs
won´t set me free?
I am not young
and I am tired of telling myself
that my life has only just begun

I don´t believe in love
I would strangle all white doves
in the world if they weren´t birds
that don´t deserve to be hurt
just for being symbols for a deceptive word

I hate the world today
I hate happiness and my messed up psyche
and I want it to get out of my way
and I brutally nail down these words
because they betrayed me
There is no such thing as purity of expression
no boundless and ultimate obsession
that is worth living and dying for

I was there. With You.

I walk out
of the box, cage, bunker
I cut off my anchor
and set sail
for a journey
through the veins
of a different body,
through the jungles
of a different mind
enshrined in a star-dusty cloud

Your words, your melodies
are a swarm of humming bees
honey in their bags
seductive like poison
shooting me off
vicious, repetitious
tracks

You flow in through my ears
in drops and streams of tears
soaking my heart
soaking my life up
and reshaping it
into a sculpture
inhabiting a new race, a new culture
of the Blessed, the Vulnerable, the Overflowing
we are the Obssessed
Who can blame us?
who will shake their heads at our lust?
for life, love, liberty

Suicide is one of our kind
a child of these days
it closes eyes that were blind,
broken kites, anyways

You wake me up
you feel my thirst
my rusty mind is thrown
into a new universe
and I crack up inside
into splinters of light

And all that I´ve been through
You tell me it´s real
you sing to me
and deeply I feel
like all is true
that you touch with your gaze,
your hands on strings
all the stars and scars I carried to you
my loose ends, my ragged wings

I take a walk, ever night every day
in disguise and worn out shoes
but then we met on a milky way
and in only one moment we merged our truth
of what it means
to get born and forlorn in this way
hope is all we got
and we got it together
I guess you call it god
but it`s you who wrote me this letter



for Ezra

Mornington Crescent IV

My heart is shaking
My soul is quaking
and my worries and pains are breaking apart
i throw them in the air
like bred crumbs
and the pigeons savagely feast on them
i watch, i sigh
the busses, the lorries, the cars pass by
and they roar like the lioness in my heart

And the kitten girl
sitting on this bench in the sun
is sheltered by the red, the grey, the green, the brown
all round
she sucks on the breast of this moment
where milk drops from the sky
with the sunbeams that tan and warm her neck
that she erects
in confidence and pride

She reigns
and loves to watch
how her pains fill the tiny bellies
of a careless race
she can return, return to this place
dance with shadowy creatures
and re-write the tale -

The tale of the girl who fell into a rat hole
to re-emerge from a crescent in the sky
and be nested on a bench
and be turned into a wild cat
by the red-bricked wall of miracles
showering her in morning(ton) dew
and gracing her purified self
with the gift of another day
on the Londonian square in the sun

I can see the waves

from birth onwards they pin us up
with needles and sticks
neat & nice
safe & sound
but how can you help
how can you help it
if you are just a Maverick
craving for the waves
with a savage hunger
reasonating in your voice, heart, head
go! run! scream! attack!
scatter your dream
without ever looking back!
up, up and away
and when the waves break
and you feel a crack in your voice, heart, head
it´s over
you´ve overtaken them
and you don´t have to sleep and repeat
over and over again
always waking up dead

balloons

All this beauty, all these privileges
fall into your lap
but you can´t stir, can´t get up
you feel like a chewing gum
that has been chewed on for too long
foul taste in the mouth
but you can´t spit yourself out
your skin, your sins
are wrapped too tightly, too mightyly
around you
you´re sore, you´re the wound, the splitting
you caused when you were born
- reborn into consciousness
the splitting between
light and dark
heart and reason
life and scars
love and treason
you love the void
the womb devoid of
judgement, clarity, people
and all those years
that have and will
waste your youth and spirit away
can I resist
can I insist on all those ideals
hanging in my sky
like balloons on a line
ready to flood the world
with a cunning smile
and airy delight

junk food

In the dark
covered in sweat, stale breath, hairy legs
squeezed and twisted by hands, arms, demands
entitlement is what dashes through my head
i could have gone
but i smiled and played my part
i let me on, him on, us on, and on, and on
and i pretended to be smart
when all my masks
had long slipped off
drained in a drink, a word, a way too much
a way of saying what?
i don´t want this, but i can´t stop
i need illusions, illusions of fusion
of being capable of not caring but always daring
and doing it all, in a mighty wave of lust, of bodily machinery,
biting, battling, licking, sticking, wet, quavery
grabbing into, under skin, sucking and fucking
repeating, repeating what we both know
the poor sick´ning show
of yet another act
meaningless, faceless, careless
and when you wake up
you will crawl back into a you
that would like to pretend that none of this was true
just like a dream-
except for leaving a slimy, sticky, wretched
scene on your skin, on your tongue
and a deeper loneliness
scratched free from the plastic glitter, the stupid admittance
that you are the milk, a sweet, swelling flesh
a junk food substitute for a mummy´s breast
so desperate for attention, so easily led
to any dam bed,
pressed into any stained, rotten cushion
dead as fish but slashed open
for beastly feasts
the expectable conclusion
have me, chew on me, suck off my taste
with your hands, your mouth, in haste, in haste
then spit me back
to where you have never known me
never shown me the hungry eyes,
the man to my feet
the man who means me
the wet and the warm and the will-less woman
whom I now despise

stupid thing

there it is
again
one of these sickening, piercing, engulfing
moments of loneliness
a bursting, thirsty puppy
my heart
a well-worn pain
around my eyes, in my neck
a burning, stitching, suffocating,
penetrating
thought that I so dread
that is all and everything, the only sky, earth, universe
reason to be, and not want to be anymore
in my head, inside, all over me,
creeping, never sleeping,
invading like an army of rainfalls, of nailfalls
having me down and open and bleeding out
all posture, power, dignity
I miss you
please, please!
- just let me forget, switch off
all images of this skin, this kindness, this warmth
a room so cruely deceptive
it has given me all these little things
that i hold on to
that may have long, long gone through
another gate, with another wave, saying goodbye
and i cannot even cry
like dust you reappear,
when the light falls in through the window
and all surfaces are covered by ashes
you left in time, in space, in the realities of my place
and there are many,
forever present, forever burning
the leftovers of when we were
only what we shared
what was it? and why did you not take it?
just take it ALL with you
leave me in peace, leave me bereaved of a feeling
i wish now i´d never had
stupid me to ever think
that i could give with my arms, my words
what i received
and somehow i always knew
that when i go
i would lose you
and when i stay i would lose you
and all those ashes now stare at me, swear at me:
"you stupid thing! we are what we were -
flakes of nothingness. what were you thinking?"
and i hear the laughter, the laughter of mockery, disgust
hailing down
on me
in me
i am pure intensity

moth

The bass is drumming on my mind
so heavily I cannot even think, or hear, or feel
just noise, vibrations, light and fog
all these posh people
this spilling, thrilling circus
a carousel spinning faster, and faster
and LOUDER
what the fuck am I doing here?
I am bandaged by two wrist bands
what do they mean?
-"Bang the nails in here!"
-"Pin me to the wall!"
I am the moth
in the glass box
that no-one will ever see
yet I am so aware,
so aware of the dark, of my own shadow
I am everywhere, nowhere
motionless, invisible
yet piercing savagely through the dark

This is not my place here
I have no face here
but where, where do I belong?
I cannot, cannot swarm with the herd,
flutter through the night,
shake off the dust, unfold
take on colour - blue, green
flicker, steam, dance, forget myself
in the spotlights
blurred, blurred, cast away and mindless
in my disguise
but that is the point: I AM this
I cannot shake it off
yet I am still sitting here
scribbling my fingers, my brains off,
ruining my ears, my skin...
Get up! Go NOW!
I can´t.
So how long, how long will I need to carry on?

Mornington Crescent II & III

Triangular shaped heart
center of what?
a pigeon hole for a lucky race
no-one sees just what i face
when i look up at you
red bricks, black bold letters
i know, i know that nothing matters
nothing but you
this moment
no lies, no truths, no long lost youth
you have never seen flowers
but you know the walks, the talks of man
daily chattering
kisses
where encounters start, end
departure
oh no!
let me hide inside you
feed the worm
lingering beneath you
vibrations, speed, tunnels,
darkness and a flood
of unknown faces, legs, voices
and above all that
is you
always, forever
towering above a cross, a bent in the road
paving ways
for the happy, the lonely, the memorable, the lost
parades
of a life time
Camden Town
that´s where they lead
plastic furs, brushed, painted youths
swarming in-out clashing and laughing
in the streets, the clubs, the drumming pubs
can i lie down?
sink into the pavement
the earth, the tunnel
that carries me away
in dirty waters
in endless arrays of filthy utensils
washed off the side walks, the asphalt
by the rain
pouring down
from a thick grey blanket
of massy clouds
i float in silence
white, stained, dead
among
cigarette ends, broken glass, plastic cups,
bags, wrappings, papers, flyers, spit, chewing gum,
somethings, no things,
reminders of the lives passing by
at day, at night
and leaving behind
a river of that which embroiders my grave
keeps me company
when i have ripped off the slave
from my existence
fed it to the pigeons
and loved the grey heart, the red wall,
the infamous hall
of magnetic moments
for one last time
for one last time
at peace
at liberty
a dream, just a dream
but my witness is she
a tube station
and my heart pounds so loudly, lively
heavy but free
from threats of devastation, distortion, abortion
Mornington Crescent
to you I return
your tale is mine to tell
till the end
a lullaby
a melody
soft, light, pleasant

------------------------------------------------------------------
A man is swearing at the pigeons -and whatever and whoever else-
and feeding them at the same time
the birds don´t care
they want to be fed
and he? what does he want?
does he have a message?
something to uncover the poisonous deeds and lies
that we -as mankind- are fed on, are feeding ourselves on?
are we anymore aware, anymore caring, anymore smart and enlighted than those birds?
are we any better?
they inhabit the no-places, the no-spaces
the leaks
in the matrix
of wealth, fame, haste
where all thinking, dreaming, resting, wrestling
with pains of the heart, the soul, the divine and poetry
is waste
i´d rather be flushed into a leak,
watch the pigeons,
play hide-and-seek with words, selves, and how they divert, unite
than to give in to the machinery
of wannabe genuine realities
of surpressed suffering, greed
and sacrifice of ideals, of longings
of never knowing, never showing
how all of this feels
the sun in my neck
Mornington Crescent
my shelter
my rest
a cradle of pigeons
picking, tip-toeing
fighting for bread
grey, persistent, resisting
more enviable than
wars, monuments, minds
of steel, of lead

into the white

oh the maiden spring time
in how many words has it been spun
over the centuries
by poets here and there
and embellished by a million more verses
about arcadian images of nature
mirroring the emotional landscapes of man

all tears dry away in the sun
all tired eyes and shrinking skins
are blended out, fall into the white
hidden by light that spotlights a merrier scene
- first roots, first blossoms, first bird screams
penetrating the vivid dreams, the slurry state of early morning sleep

ice still glistening on shadowy surfaces
on burning cheeks staring into the bare, bleak deadland
in there, inside her
in there where winters still reign
and cut through the clothes, the skin, the body
that freezes and waits for its shell to crack
and let the sun in
to melt away, to white the within
cast it into oblivion, spotlight the maiden
hidden in the shades of winter
let here bloom, let here unfold

above, beyond the doom
erected and always reflected
in a castle of steel
heavy and solid
and well overfeeding her
with treats wrapped like sweets
irresistable, poisonous,
eating away at her blood,
at her mind, at her heart
and leaving her with the mute birds
that cannot fly

until she shrieks and bites
through the steel, the ice, the eternal winters
she bleeds and reeks of foul old spite
but she can´t die
she can´t die
not now, not yet
the spring has spun her a dress
the first, the last dress to wear
to dance and dissolve in the white light,
the merry fairytales
sung by the sun
of springtime, oh springtime

splintered & the shell jar

(splintered)

why am i so damn fucking angry
and at who and what and how can i let go
not implode but explode
kick, scream, resist, tear to pieces,
FREAK
not speak my mind
get rid of it, spit on it
dissovle in an inferno
of hate, rage, devastating power
i am so powerless, feeble, scared
i cannot read, see, speak
without choking on tears
without feeling wrong
without losing what i am always on about
doing things right, being alright, healing, fighting
coming to terms
is this what i really want? what i need?
i hear glass being smashed in a container
which is my body, my soul
a waste bag
please just get me on a car, on a long
road leading
nowhere but into another
senseless, drained, and hollow
now-here
get me on this road, in my bag
and on your way kick me out the window
into the grass, into the mud
return me to the earth
but even she would scream
i did not give birth to you
you have no place to go to
no roots
just boots to walk
silently, endlessly,
through Berlin streets at night
i sense no fear when i stirr and race through the rain
it protects me
cause it´s only inside
and the night showers on me in response
i need the echo
emerging from solitude, hollowness, pain
and the shell which is the city i pass through,
the city i need, i greet, and will leave behind
i move, so i am still alive
but so often, so often i die
the shattering glass rings in my ears, on my mind
i feel, paralyzed, caged, and marred
by the noises, the voices from inside
i want to bleed it all out
i read of a dead child, a murdered child
identifying its murderer
by bleeding just a little harder
when he stood by its side
he was reavealed, the bleeding was stilled
and it died
they could cry, and despair just for one last time
and grass grew on and closed the gap
it was freed from the trap
of a life so pure, so good, so protected
but fuelled with anger that was so long neglected
and so it ended as a victim, a martyr
and innocence embroidered the heart of this saint
always humble, obedient, insane and pitied
buttered with mercy and good-willed understanding
of all those who know but would not admit
how they are so much better, so much more realistic,
so good, virtuous and fucking sane
i don´t want to bleed harder when i see myself as the victim, the murderer
in and from my grave
i have to unfold into the world
not let it all fold in on me
silently, acceptingly, like a slave
do i have a right, a right to resist?
can i throw with glass, even if it caused all my own scars?
can i hurt and mark
those who seem so much better, so superior, so deserving of happiness,
gratitude and love?
my gratitude, my love, my improvement
i will get better, do this, do that,
soothe you, smoothe me
get back and start over
escape my selfish, greedy, needy me
and roll on the grass, a meadow, a white plane of flowers
fruity, fresh, not falling into dust
with you
embrace you
be a container
an embroidered, curved, fitting vase
for the flowers we pick together, knit together
in a festive bouquet
a gift to us
our friendship, union,
the life and the love and the relief
from the abyss that cut right through me, through us
and made me run naked and bleeding
through Berlin at night
hearing glass being smashed
and the shower of rage inside
not released, never released
in screams and hits, and kicks
what at
who at
i am losing my mind
where can i go
and deposit
the waste bag
that is me
my dirty and bad
burning soul
and a body too sick, too humble
to leave, to be heaved out the window
that i cannot go through
to the life of others
nothing that i can do
i want to replace feeling by sensation
gratitude by evil
love by ignorance, sex

(the shell jar)

i want to be a shell,
just moved by the waves
not knowing how it feels
to be wet, to hurt, to cry from a life
overspilling inside
just a dead shell,
glimmering in the sun,
fucking in the sand
until the waves wash over me
and carry me away
until the tide is low again,
rests me tenderly on the shore
and i am found by another collector
who plays with me and tosses me
away again
i would not care
i would not feel
and when the waves rage wildly
and the storm has all might
and i get shattered on a rock
all will be silent
no gaping scarrs, no resisting, regretting and never forgetting heart
just dead
and melting with the sands and the salty ocean
to be and to become nothing anymore
no desire, no drive, no longing, no will
just going nowhere and anywhere
invisible and free

Mr Blue

The man in blue

he flew into my room when I was still a child

dreaming away at day, at night

and having him bed me on a cloud

He was the first to give me a name

a phantasm I bathed in

without any shame

he was not meant to last

but oh so mad´ning tragedy has it

that he always returned

just never to stay

Still warm are the sheets

and a white morning greets

the pale small girl

resting on a chest

that once was the nest

in which he carried her out of the window

the Man in Blue

and this, and this, and this,

this moment only

is all there is

And now another night has come

Mr. Blue, long have you been gone-

for a day, a week, a year, a decade

I do not care - time cannot measure

what lays here so bare and scarred:

The unending story sold by my heart

to anyone, anyone but you

just to feel that any of all this true

and I am free to hold on to the girl

who has made and stayed with the Man in Blue

to be left and bereft of her mind, her name

over and over again

DAMN YOU!

Can´t you stay for a while? You are not superman!

breathing normally

restless, sleepless, worn
mind is racing and a shadow paints all walls
can´t get out but what am i in
the wheel it does not stop to spin
what is real and how am i to know what to feel
my body is numb
and what can i say
without a message for my errand
and to whom and why and how
and why is it so dark
and fear won´t take a bow
and leave me to sleep and rest
in peace without grief and regret
i´m burning out I`m caving in
but still a rattling nonsense
with hands on a keyboard
is all that I am
and all the romance just fades into grey
I am a dreamer with nothing to do
and much less to say
that keeps you in my world
that leaves my hope uncurled
and unfolding in waves in your embrace
I am too much of too little
and so I exist
and have nothing to give that may help us persist
as a WE
not even in terms of "maybe"
i cannot stop
i cannot leave
the life i inflict with this painful desease
FEAR
i want to move on, i want to resist
but a BUT always follows the moments of bliss
up in the sky I always fly high
but a crush to the ground
so familiar it sounds
the pigeon was hit by a car
but i knock myself out and scratch at each scar
as though i may vanish
when the heavens and hells cease to exist
and I may end up in where lovers could live
in the inbetween, where all can slowly, mildly
decide and unfold before it may live
from moment to moment
breathing normally

this city

clouds move faster above this city
and winds blow harsher inside this city
and shadows grow darker inside this city
and dreams draw closer towards this city
and history barks louder below this city
and pleasure, adventure, distraction ring
far across the borders of this city
attracting longing, bored, desperate and empty souls
the city´s a queen, the city´s a thief
the city´s the city
and you stop and stare in disbelief
when you catch your own reflection
right in the eye of this spellbinding city
and you realize that you´ve become a part of her face
got stuck like a moth in the glow and heat of her gaze