decisions are based on forgetfulness
the agony of the sick child inside of me
i can't walk any further, i can't stay here
don't want to jump in front of an express train

the image of my little daughter is present
the way she utters the words "papa" and "hi"
papa is daddy in german, i want to live on
i want to die, i don't want to die in pity

dying an old man is better than suicide
the strings of despair are the strings of hope
route 36 / bolivia / white frost / toxic faces
glaciers of doubts / silverred bloodstream

my heart is beating on 888 beats per minute
battlerapping is a good weapon against depression
been writing against the opponent called myself
it is never about the others but about inner struggle

in long-term rehab, there are many psychologists,
speeding through the aisles of responsibility
around us are deep and darkgreen forests and hills
we are isolated from human civilization to heal

i fear the day of my return into the city of money and sins
the innocence of my two children is tattooed on my body
how could i **** their images by taking my own life?
right now, i am listening to the strings of despair and hope

by the end of the day, each letter will have become dust
a golden lion with a twinkling mane is protecting me
he is a disciple of god and thinks he is just a toy
god's power is greater than every single human act

nothingness was before him and he created nothingness

in the land of golem, shades reign
identities spread all over the ground
they consist of ice-covered letters
names, written in the font of memories

in the land of golem, glimmering reigns
names spread all over the ground
sparkling fireflies hover over words
written in the font of forgiveness

golemland consists of shadows
golemland is a place of lights
guarded by a ward who is on high alert
his name is golem, a wise, weary creature

golem owns a diary with a bluewhite binder
each era is a time of reflection for him
golem walks up a steep mountain track
precisely at 8 o'clock, it's the year 1945

the mountaintop lined with shades, lights
they are transcending into each other
golem takes breath, 76 years passed by
since he started from the bottom

golem is sitting down among creation
it's the moment of a long awaited return
glimmering turns into a glare, relaxation
shades become shadows, tension

golem is looking at a blackwhite sky
his attachments whirring in the clouds
the sounds of the sea blowing upwards
golem closes his eyes, awaiting to die

then, golem is falling asleep and rests

sweaty forehead, a gory past
wildly glowing eyes of oblivion
shivering hands, sirens, bars
freedom, imprisonment, razor blades

peru, coca farmers, chemicals
smuggler channels, route 36
franklin's face on crumpled-up paper
rattling coins, benjamins, stacks

gotta make it or take it
gotta sell or abuse it
flashing louis, abundant future
sweaty forehead, ****** present

biker chapters, brothers, funerals
tommy hauled jim's coffin
rick carried tommy to his grave
cut-offs, gats, one call: ******

despair, hatred, vengeance, omerta
mortals remain silent, angels don't
rain of blood, a puddle of codes
turf, plots, streets, blocks, gangs

cults **** cultures, weapons replace
shelter in a group home; the stabbing
"shaun got heart, he a furious one --
can use dat dude, pay him up"

black, white, african-american, chechens
territories of unspoken laws
intimidated witnesses, gay mobsters
lured teenagers, deadly magic of power

the old ones impress the new ones
newbies will turn into soldiers
**** or get killed; headshots of fear
numbers on the forehead, blueish

unwritten are the rules of some
bribed politicians, skippers, knockos
the one who wets, will be wetted
others prefer the clarity of faith

organized crime, rats and kingpins
multilevel marketing, elevators
glass towers, late and secret meetings
route 36, the white magic of death

it's all in the game


"The only thing that burns in hell is the part of you that won't let go of your life.
Your memories, your attachments, they burn 'em all away. But they're not punishing you, they say. They freeing yourself.

Relax."

(Quote from the film "Jacob's Ladder")

god created the sun
god created rain
rain and sun slept together
a rainbow evolved

every being has a double, somewhen
i'm half gipsy and jewish
bleedin' blueish
wise man told me lies about trueness

smell the fragrance of ghosts
relax, feel, love yourself
i will be praying for you
in rainbows

today, sir, is the day to say thank you
and my way to do so, ermh --
is to write you a poem
i don't know about your past but your

knowledge of mine is vast
you knew me better than my parents
and you spotted the real me during our therapy never said my "father" that he

was proud of me -- but you did, you revealed in me the true kid because you have the gift to lead people to the place where their truth is; most people join the rat race, but you always kept the same pace and you

made it to erase my shame, healing people is what you're here for, reliable and faithful, and regardless of any writer's fame: YOU HAVE A NAME... an inner flame of kindness glows in your soul, you released me from my

blindness, and you helped me dealing with my tormenter: cole, i never felt that you played a role, i sensed you are whole, may god bless your four daughters, and i wished YOU had been my father, but thats fine: cause you

became a father figure, and soon i figured that your goodness makes you richer than a person owning millions, i do thank you a billion times for being
a mirror who is speaking, at our first session i

shivered, but hid it, you opened me, and noted nothing down, you just listened and saved me from drowning
each letter is for you, each word proves my gratitude how can you have this attitude? how do you do this?

im not idealizing, yet, you're my idol, cause you taught me bout my anger, that as a child, i never had a man as a rival, i had lost my destination and you were my arrival

Fakhri Khalik, you were my arrival.
You stopped my denial.
You are a huge part of my survival.

You are my arrival, I am your disciple.

Forever Yours.

Max

god flew through my coffee this morning;
an intellectual crow entered my apartment,
and it guzzled a sip of the holy brew
me? i didn't take notice, just took notes

a blind writer who seeks the extraordinary,
distracted by a strayed quest for himself
left eye red, the right one black, wolfishly
a tribe of suicidals shattered my eye sight

they were dancing in trance
they were singing in kid's voices:

"we forgotten who we are; our skins crumbling
we don't want to live inside your body; no!
we won't be your voice anymore; we be leaving

golemland is our destination, shelter of letters"
then, the tribe of suicidals left, depriving me of words

the cold light of day reigns:
concrete, metal, glass, towers
the "system" turns humans into numbers
new york city is full of giant rats

pregnant with the outflow of frustration
in the moonlight, their teeth twinkle
bloodred maws, spiky fur, darkgrey
i don't want to become a rat

"you gotta keep a sense of human"
a quote by earl simmons, a.k.a. dmx
lord, gimme shelter, gimme strength
bornheim, germany, yonckers, usa

regardless where we are; who we be
this line hugs my son nicholas,
and i do love eden, my daughter
THEY ARE LIFE. THEY KEEP A SENSE OF HUMAN.

i'm max, and i'm not trapped in placelessness
gotta stay clean, will meet my kids again
trance is not life, it's the aberration of escape
my weakness is my strength, i got it in me

like a greenly glowing marble of hope  
drugs don't change the world, but you
as i was laying in a puddle of sweat,
i prayed to god: "pleeeease let me live"

couldn't breathe for a moment, fear of death
the addiction for the trance brought me there
i gotta keep a sense of human; for myself
i gotta keep a sense of human; for my kids