let a kiss
travel
9000 kilometers
within
the speed
of light
is it urban?
is it cosmic?
, to walk upon
a silk rope in the sky?
there is no time-difference
between autumn and japan
let this kiss
burn wowing quickly
like a shooting-star
within poetry:
healingly handwritten
and strongly heartfelt.
Aug 5, 2018
Aug 5, 2018 at 12:23 PM UTC
I’m looking for some zen
behind the scene
(or on the spot),
some raw footage
without cuts and credits:
narrative à dieu.
I want to share some tao
in this ***** routine:
shall we simply trust
in a language
called equilibrium?
Jul 28, 2018
Jul 28, 2018 at 3:16 AM UTC
I still eat toasted white bread
with thinsliced strawberries
and small sugar hills:
Could be noisy Rotterdam.
I still mix up urban blues
and chagrin d’amour
and call it open relationship:
Could be the ugly part of Paris.
Sometimes I juggle with lemons
next to a Czech red fridge
having a flower square in mind:
Could be a ******** poetry-slam
in Berlin.
And I still wear t-shirts with
vintage anthrazit windmills:
Could be either Don Quichote
or Don Juan trying to rewrite
their script.
Jul 27, 2018
Jul 27, 2018 at 2:15 PM UTC
thank you for signing in
in between the signs
thank you for leaving space
luminously empty
thank you for listening
to the masterpiece
of silence
thank you for quoting quantum leaps
while twirling the hairs on my chest
thank you for choosing
azure and the network of spring
so emphatically
thank you for collecting
the echoes of a single dewdrop
with the presence of a child
thank you for creating
miracles and bubbles:
360°
thank you for breathing
flashy ******* passionately
thank you for your interstellar
plexus and your solar torus
dewdrop glass, thy name
thank you for wordplaying
magnifying fiery patterns
(dewdrop glass, 2017
christian sonnenklar)
Oct 29, 2017
Oct 29, 2017 at 7:14 AM UTC
again, I have to learn, if a table is still meant
for crumbling croissants and obstacles,
or if it's simply a place where caffein gets cold.
the fortune tellers were wrong -
there is no trace on the edge of the cup:
and that heats me up.
I have to see, if a window is still meant for watching
robins and blue **** or if it's simply
the most torturous part of being on my own.
once more, I will throw up stubborn dreams
and keep selling them as ridiculous antiques:
another flea market with curiosities down by the river,
that keeps flowing and shimmering in the early sun.
"where will you put them up?"
Sep 8, 2016
Sep 8, 2016 at 1:36 AM UTC
So now I am truly alone as all plots
and unhappy endings are about
to subside, wither and die –
Literally they epitaph themselves:
For me the most delicate art in this world.
Seemingly duality has stopped playing on my strings,
so please recognize: I am not talking to myself –
I am still lip-synching, so this is absolutely an approach to something.
Besides it appears to me, an actor’s true home
is the changing-room between the scenes:
Simply furnished, no applause. Silence.
Enjambement. N’est-ce pas?
May 17, 2014
May 17, 2014 at 9:24 AM UTC
Before delusion becomes infallible
miracles happen. Especially to non-believers.
Just doubt enough – it’s the currency
of breakthrough. Promise.
And look at the generosity of the modern world.
We constantly keep dancing on thin ice:
Quite generous, isn’t it? –
A phone call, an error, a rainbow
merge into: Let’s go for a walk
gathering raindrops and conjuring up rivers.
I do suggest alchemy as lingua franca.
It will create so much joy and tongue-twisters.
And now I start being busy doubting –
it is only a little window onto god.
Nov 1, 2013
Nov 1, 2013 at 6:26 AM UTC
I found some grammer of the universe:
Not easy to catch, but easy to find,
as it is simply everywhere.
In the navel and in the fridge.
In a teacup and in a dream.
In a memory and in a grain of dust
as much as in a withering biography.
Sometimes I mix up prepositions,
so that I my beloved feels demagnified.
But I will take the effort to spell lovable meaning in that language.
And it happens that I use wrong keys
- and I don't get the meaning of sentences
that couchsurf my mind - but it's all furnished
with such a beautiful mess. Oh dear,
let me play on you(r) combinations.
And embed the failure in the long run of light.
I know, everything is meant to glow.
Furthermore there is the challenge of silence,
t h e a b s o l u t e l y s u p e r c o n n e c t i v e
muting the noisy pain of opposition.
Let us meditate on that.
Oct 21, 2013
Oct 21, 2013 at 7:57 AM UTC
In me begins a new story. Not that I have just finished something old. That's already been done long ago, without me noticing. A new story begins, because I am that which was always there, new to understand and able to reinterpret.
This relief is so complete that I dare not forecast. I'm beginning to believe in the absence of gravity and the delicate beat of wings. In the vastness of my soul frolick hordes of butterflies. I embody spring which has sprinkled me with magnolias, waterfalls and illuminated letters.
Each mental vision would be a surgical procedure into something whole and perfect. I must be true. Gingerly I deal with the echo chambers of change. They are able to turn the smallest tears into raging rivers. And a flower is enough to carry beauty into the world. The void has taken new space - is that intellectually possible? The new story will not be the final version of myself. But it is no less important. My identity must breathe. This is the only prayer that I will speak. For now I dance alone even in the most beautiful nooks and crannies of all the seas, skies and feelings. But I'm glad if you find me.
Oct 11, 2013
Oct 11, 2013 at 5:02 AM UTC
But wait, I am a net –sending waves, breathing photons
causing beautiful thunderstorms, that light up various paths.
I flower the dark. I emerge, I subside, I take wing.
I am always close to an unwritten poem
that gathers more than just the sum of single pieces.
The “I“ appears to be the skin of mind
that wants to be caressed by grammer and explanations.
I think, “I“ thinks in heavy dictionaries
translating itself into questions. Who am I. Who I am.
Just one guarantee: Beyond, all tracks go together.
I mean the source of thunderstorms.
From this point – light up now.
September 2013
Sep 25, 2013
Sep 25, 2013 at 12:13 PM UTC