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