!

i was brought up to
read books and play the
violin

i am from the heart of the
world you
know

a place among thieves
a place among business aspirations
a place among the pines

actually like a
postcard however
someday a clan of

gory
icy
determined

men came into town
men who took up
residence

between pines and a business park
buildings were built by the
men of the clan:

golden paint
giant offices
porsches
lambos
maybachs

gory
icy
determined

men had come into town
yelling in strange terms:

brate
hajde
jebi se

unexpected assassinations
executions of local mobsters
****** threats on judges

jebi se!
brate hajde

old methods
new turf

a war began
clan against mob
murderer against murderer
man against man

this place where i
lived
this place among
pines

turned into a war zone
year 2019

corners packed with hordes
willing to die
armed with

machetes
pump actions
rocket launchers
tanks

this place where i
lived
this place among
pines

turned into a war zone
year 2019

The burning of the skin starting
In the fight of Gods and ****** in
The bays of Golem where
Red, humongous ghosts are stranded.

Elopers, exodus of children,
Westend, Gaza,
Crystals, glaciers, jaws
Panting, greedy for the
One fulfilling victory of love.

Shoals are occupying the shells of
Their ancient homeland; skins,
Among craps and lipstick,
Are burning.
Hollowed castles of silk and
Mirrorglass.

Seven verses distant.
38 souls close by.
Ten gangs
38 skins against burning skin.

if five minutes where dem
last five minutes of my life

if i died
in five minutes
i would

kiss my kid
hold on to my wife i'd
call my mom

forever
forever
forever

i wouldn't write a bit
i wouldn't eat a bit
i'd have lots of ***** though

i'd trip
i'd get scared

who would not?

placeless

rivers of dust
ninetynine cents
beastly fightin' wit
glowing nails
ain't no fakirs it is bloodshed
fakers neither knuckles bloodred

feel verse seven: just a bloodbath

our car is burning and there is nobody
to drive it
our car is going in circles


8

The sky is in flames
My heart dried out
Desert of life
Before the doom of the day

I reach out my hand to myself
In the kingdom of mirrors
The air smells like memories
Here I'd often skin myself

To awake in a drain
Among gigantic egg shells
Roaring deluge of water
Fuzzy voices

I will come in the night
To extinguish the burning sky
To water the desert
In the core of the fierce sun

A ****** is dreaming
Of a jungle
Where a strong lion lives
Razor-sharp teeth
Wild glimpse
Well-hung
The lion never sleeps

Sunset
Scent of desire
8:38 PM
The ****** awakes
In an upheaval
Her bed is shivering
Close by the lion is roaring

The ****** is spreading her legs
Her hand is already there
Thumb in the mouth
An unerring leap
Powerfully bumping the ******
Flashes in the eye
She awakes as a woman

sarcous knuckles a fierce spirit
one in a ten; death is in it
corona breath like gun fire
hair made of killing barb wire

the saviors won't save you
death found you: fists will erase you
try to get away from
fingernails like razor blades

death is black death is white
made of day made of night
another round another fight
another fight another round

you can't escape them soundz
corona's words are echoing

I grew up in the corset of fear
Among bitterly poor actors
Who used to get high on words
In rooms with colorful walls

Nobody watched me walking
So I used to walk all day long
The actors slept at day
I often stroke their hair

Until the moon of life was rising
The actors got up
Chatting in the kitchen
Coffee and cigarettes

Stage plays filled their shelves
Peoples of envy and goodness
Names dripping from paper
On the actors' tongues

Mob of rage and love
I wanted to be an actor
Searched their hair
To find a life's dream

The actors were gently snoring
Asleep they belonged together
Their sleep obeyed a rhythm
So I laid down between them

To awake in a fortress
Grey and barren rocks
Cold wind whistling
Mountains and avalanches

This was a lonely place
Nowhere a sign of life
The actors were lacking
I wanted to be like them

Long since the actors died
I preserve their hair
In the fortress of my wishes
Mountains and avalanches

wuof
wauwau
wfff grr

wf wf wf wf
grr
wau grrrr wooph
gr grr grrr wau
wau




wauwf
grrr

Everything evolves from awakening
Thus a dream is beginning
A dream made of love and lights
A dream for all my children
I am the father of cries
Father of dreams and lights
Faithful father of dreams

Pass me the bowl of awakening
Uncountable words are in this bowl
Spoken by the deceased Welshman
A gentleman of courage and light
A gentleman for the children's voices
Who stemmed from my dreams
To die in the lap of my love
To recur in a dream
Dream of dead and colorful words
Spoken by children

I feed the nation of resentment with love
Because I was born in a dream
In this dream benevolence triumphs
Benevolence of love and lights
Words live under my skin
Spoken by a dead Welshman
Constituted of love and lights
To deliver the nation of resentment

I was born in a dream
Dream of love for my children
Who sleep in the streets
Vanishing under the colorful sun
Crying and grinning and raging
The children came inside my dream
Dream of love and lights
Words under my skin
Spoken by a deceased Welshman

Free of remorse is my promise
Consisting of my dream's lights
My children wrote it down
Under the walls of oblivion
Below my parent's graves
Where my children were sobbing
The children's tears became words
Languages evolved from these words
Wandering over the planet
Among the mouths of dreams
Children yelled the words into the sea
Where they vanished in the waves
Thus a dream was beginning
A dream of love and lights
A dream by the father of cries
A dream for the goodness of my children

in my dream, clint eastwood stood across from me.

he was twenty years younger than now. he looked at me with empathy, there was a good spirit among the two of us. we talked about our writing but i can't remember any details.

in my dream, i thought that clint wouldn't need much confirmation for his writing, since he has been famous for long.

yet i made him a compliment and he smiled at me gently; like a real gentleman.

clint eastwood is a good guy.

64 hours passed by in a flash, sister
are you tryin' to sing and ****** me?
my hebrew sillables are all-black as bmf
sunset over wondaland, the magic city

residing at excelsior hotel, flowerfull mouth
french rap intro playin' me like harimah
sending me nudes from dubai to wondaland
shaped like a statue, willing, please, pleasure

booked dat ticket, let's go for it, babe
harima is on her way, in the meantime this cleaning lady is flirtatious like crazy, yeeeah her colleague a.k.a. boyfriend ain't working

last night, she gave me an intense glimpse
and her dude was in the same room, yup
so it's time for punishment, seldom signs
alrighty, passing babylon-thru, thruuuuhhh

wondaland keeps me trapped, i can't leave
you gonna see #trance24/7 on most walls
fiends dwell on pathways or they begging
beatdowns, runners, packs, rubix cubies

but on a hill, there is a house and in this
house, there are gangstapoetz, hihaho
in an iris, you might spot our place
simply take note of the... reflections

when another day is ****** again
red heavens collapse over your head
cause devil is staring at you
while you're rushing to the subway

doomed to catch it, morning strugglez
you and your people are in distress
good friends died and they keep dying
life was, is and remains a battle field

you awoke because of hunger and curiosity
which kind of dream was that? pushing tons
residing in a snowwhite castle, no stains
yachts across, attitude like klitschkos

reality bites: your inner voice is calling you
take a shower! eat! go to work and prosper!
in truth you work for hard-hearted vultures
wearing suits, spreading lies, for sure

you have to sell tv sets via phone
****** payment, no insurance, usa-flava
but you bust your *** for it, still unable
to buy new sneakers for your daughter

all second hand, so at school she is being mobbed
they steal her dignity, beat her up, she's twelve
eight o'clock in the morning, and she is moaning
swollen rips, hair teared out, a broken jawbone

no school mate is helping her, ambulance and sirens
your daughter faints, as you're rushing to the hospital
and when you see her abused, you decide to take vengeance
the night is red, heavens collapse over your head

devil is no more staring, you and him take action
you buy a weapon, 40 cal, bleeding anger, danger
but you won't turn back, never acting like a coward
in the park, near the river, you can find them ******* sitting

loading the gun, slowly moving, avoid any sound
the rest is history, your story, never feeling sorry

May I look for worms in here?
Do you mind?
Does this land belong to the questions?
Whom do these words belong to?
Where were you during my absence?
Were you missing me?
Did you walk through the valley of tears?
Is this the place where we made love?

What time is it?
Did I cage the time?
What did the mobsters want?
Where were they coming from?
Did my camera irritate them?

Will you be my number one forever?
Is fire in your yellow ocher soul?
Can you steal some flower soil for me?
Is sweetness an agent against concrete?
Where do you come from?
Wanna tell me about the coordinates?

Do you obey the law of silence?
Why aren't you answering?
You belong to the people of mirrors?
Why ain't you talking?
Why?

I emerged after the battle
Before that I hadn't existed
Rested in the belly of a question mark
Surrounded by fog and drought
Dry years were passing by

I was looking out of red windows
Into an eternal, wide, cold emptiness
Iceblue tiles
Iceblue tiles
Iceblue

So I came round
In the melody of a bighearted thunder
Hugging the world in a bighearted way
Thundering benevolence
Then the iceblue tiles vanished
As if they had never existed
The thunder razed them from my memory
To turn into good rain

A good rain was pouring down
To stop the thunder
So the thunder stopped

A baby lay on the battlefield
Sleepy-eyed
A mirror of light in its glimpse
Remotely an iceblue sky
Blanket of water and light

Don't move
Be still
Listen
So you originate
To know who you are

Every time I stop existing
While closing my eyes
In another life we're lovers
I took care of everything
Chastened the sick angels
Nobody crawls over this endless street
Ninetynine white birds
My undershirt's made of iron
Sweat is silver for the love

So I elevate you easily
Under the horizon of dunes
I came yesterday morning
From the land of guilt
Where heads roll like super *****

I got here yesterday morning
From the land of gulit
Red balloons were destroyed
Tunnels lead to tunnels
I'm writing in an iron undershirt
So you'll be reading about escapades
I'm alive for your life of reading

All is been taken care of
Reddish clouds are gonna yawn
Between midnight and dawn
Lukewarm seawater early in the morning
Tiredly you are giggling
Exhaustedly you're falling asleep

that's why i want
the good in my life

that's why the game of the sun
will not harm me

dear love i need you to
fill my soul you feel me...

yours sincerely
tizzop

that's why i am trying to adopt the good
and an endeavor should be treated with dedication

dear love i need you
fill my soul
you feel me...

let's put some toys in it!
kids, they love gimmicks

and a flyer depicting heroes
so after parents bought the first
one: the kid wants all; ain't that some fun?

by the way: i thirst
for more: can never sling
too much money

your name stems from a divine place, baby and when i'm calling you baby, i mean it. cause you're my baby.

and one day, you won't be anyones "my" anymore; but you will be my daughter until i...

this verse is about the delight in your cheeks when you're smiling.
this verse is about the way you are happy for being with me and
the way i am happy for being with you, eden.

and if someone insists that babies only cry and bother their parents: it's not like that. full stop.

you are the opposite of a full stop: a sunrise.

these verses are about how you talked to me today: you were looking at me and made sounds with your tongue.

these sounds do have a meaning for you, regardless that you are not reflecting on your talking like older kids, teenagers or adults do.

(as they sometimes do; does donald thinks about what he twitters all day long? who cares? i do. but that's another poem.)

eden, the sounds you make are meaningful to me. because you simply show me that you recognize me as your daddy. and that you want me to feel and remember that.

and my feelings for you: they are proof of our kinship. our blood.

nothing more to add, baby.
your daddy.

In the light of black streets
Sounds of shadows
Yesterday was a dance
In ruins of diamonds

All or nothing
Philippa's ear on the rail
A white train is approaching
Into the nothingness

countless nights
the same dream:

awaking in black water
dressed in jeans and a
rugby-shirt

legs under water so i
am trying to protect my
cell phones from

damage

1+1 equals 2

pa + pa equals:






papa

tizz is love it or hate it, nuttin' in between
addicted to yayo like sheen, 500 bpm heartbeat
don't do it anymore, but remain psychotic
and hunt down idiotics like a carnivore

from florida to berlin, from tropic to toxic
deep in da game, da grimy streetz know my name
it'z tizzop, 14.8 inchez of hip-hop

hangin' at rashid'z, shisha ready, cuban necklace
three men in da back but ya don't know who it iz
all of 'em are dark-skinned, all of 'em are bearded
most important of all: all of 'em are fearless

we don't know what it meanz to be scared
just some migrantz who will now be heard
da territory split up: kurdz, arabz and turkz
we got our own law, like omerta, like da cosa

one apartment here, and one block' there
like bushido did, back in da dayz wit fler
sonny black carlo, godfatherz, yeeeah

power is about makin it and takin it, unlike nine said
unlike any other guy said, and if ya don't wanna buy it
find ya eyez in da wine-red, da choppaz are wild catz
ya can use them for da furiouz, some become notoriouz

otherz don't and die, but dey will be honored:
watch da muralz; urban networkz, also in da rural,
and five-o just remainz neutral; it is crucial to be brutal
as it iz to remain truthful; lyricistz can't deal wit diz
g-boy attitude of tizz: letz celebrate diversity
and ante up on google, i write barz and do diz
i'm a little too youthful for these oldskoolish

i wrote about civilizations and greed
in order to scent creatures

scent and greed
friends are hidden between the
river's sparkling
hidden on the river like pearls

i don't know if you know
what i'm talking about

but that's fine my man
but that's fine baby

we simply have to ask brother
we simply have to ask sister
if we need answers for our longing

they are sitting by the tracks
close to the trains

they're always there
always: i promise you

don't be scared baby
i promise you:

they are always there
like moon and sun
like a being being overall
in our past present and future

a wonderful power;  in my son's
colorful bible it's called
"I-AM-THERE"

do you understand that?
can you grasp it?

many african-americans say
"you feel me?" in order to
express and share something
(much love to omar devone little)

on my chest there is a tattoo
the one you copied
in an hour made of

shadows
scent and greed
i wanted that

i wanted that you come to me
among the shadows
beneath the greed
above the scent

in a moment of "you feel me"

our skins were sparkling  
our souls were glowing

as we felt each other more
knowingly and more deeply
as ever before

we were two halves
overfilled with the longing of
our childhoods

so i had to come into you
you needed me to be inside of you

and we felt each other
more deeply as ever before.

we arrived:

at an old little house by the sea
green rusty window shutters
it's never cold there like florida

close to the waves you know
this old little house by the sea
it's always warm there

not far there is a train station:
where we find the brothers and sisters sitting by the tracks

we had arrived.

How the things get further away
Disappearing in the haze of a day
Undressed and bare naked
Trash made of freedom's desires

The vanishing of things remains
I threw up the yesterday
Cause yesterday served it's time
There is no movement in things

Present me a kind of a nightly dance
Move between the clouds
In the veil of everything imaginable
To dissolve with me at dawn

Today's soldiers are very young children
Fighting battles for accolades
Exchanging sweet freedom against things
Giving in to the opinion of strangers

How all the things fade in sheen
Among **** dreams and fear
We watch it or we look away
That's a new repetition

your warm heart
is the pulse of my life

the sweetest speech is when
i speak to you anna

my salvation
my destiny

the sweetest blood is
your blood anna

your warm heart
is the pulse of my life

the pulse of my life
is your warm heart

my savior
my salvation

the pulse of our lifes
are our hearts

travel with me
i will take you away

forever anna
anna forever

a: absolute love
n: neverlanddreams
n: no other woman
a: absolute love

your name is a
frame

your reflection a
painting

anna+tizzop
tizzop+anna

and this white page has become a bole
our lovenames are engraved in wood

and wood never sinks in water

speechless but singing
up but sinking
proud but longing

i accuse you of being you
you accuse me of being me

we barely act as a we
and that is our failure

we're not here
this isn't happening:

speechless and singing
up and sinking
proud and longing

within the realm of
trust and mistrust

placelesness
addiciton
rivers of dust
real storys
and fiction

don't get me wrong
i won't be talking long
it's just something else
this world of codes

weak words are spread
it's like butter on bread
it's like longing for fat

don't get me wrong
i won't be talking long
daddy told me: stay strong

but i'm trapped in the land of
placelessness  

get me some rest
get me some rest
get me get me get me
some rest

Prayer of an empty room
In a gap of the forgotten
For the love of ancient dust
Living in my fibers
Under my skin
Where the building ends
Till kingdom come

I came to pray
Cause live is a riddle
From words of greed and guilt
I started solving this riddle
A little boy
Chewing on a pen
Looking through the window
At a grey garden
Colorful birds were singing
In the boy's language

This moment passed
So I'm praying
For forgiveness
I'm asking sincerely

For honesty
For freedom
For love

i asked my daddy: "do you trust me?"
and he answered.

"he-ll-o beau-ti-ful, i-am-a-ro-bot" a manly robot said.
let's call him LIAM.

"o-my-that-can't-be-a-co-in-ci-den-ce" the mate of
his electronic soul, a womanly robot, answered. her name was EMMA.

"well-i-think-eve-ry-thing-should-be-fi-ne-then", liam
reciprocated. "we-can-go-now."

emma's robotic face glowed in red colors.
"hmmmmh... i-am-not-so-su-re-ab-out-that", she told liam.

"why-not??"

"nor-mal-ly-, a-ro-bot-wo-uld-not-act-as-hu-man-ly-as-yo-u-a-re-do-ing. how-e-ver, i-on-ly-told-yo-u that-i-wo-uldn't-be-so-su-re."

liam's entire construction started to beam with joy:

"do-es-this-me-an that-yo-u-want-me?"

emma smiled at liam.

"yo-u-bet!" she shouted in happiness.
soon, the two robots became one. and they never were separated.

never.

Die from my arms
I held back all winners
Who were coming for you
To tear you to pieces

Die with benevolence
In the fog of this world
By the countless suns
Red dawn

Shadow dripping from my eyes
Glistening and shouting
Humming my life
From deep, red ashes
This is my shadow!

A young female's coy look
Slipping through a boy's hug
So I come into her body
Shadow on a shadow
Melting in short screams
Listen!

How did I get here? I slipped
On ****** detours
Fleshwound at my knee
My shadow crouched down
But I stood tall
Bolt upright
You were feeling that
My shadow was sighing
Then we were escaping
In a land of foreign shadows

Shadow dripping from my eyes
Cooly thugs were encircling us
Quiet like carnivores
They were groping you
So I had to fight them
Beat them to a pulp
Nobody remained

My shadow drifting in blood
A scent evolved; called rebirth
We walked away
My shadow glistening in freedom
The shadow's journey ended
So I settled down
Modeling words from your hair
Under a tent of green stars

ashima abraham
teenage girl
needed love
desperately

she thought the reason for her
despair might been her longing

while her longing was nothing but
normal and the origin of her
despair might been
fear

one day she met an older guy
his name **** black he a
forensic officer

investigators like him look for
traces under dead body's fingernails
stuff like that

until ashima met **** her
love was exclusively reserved to
her pitbull
his name was branko

a fearsome creature

in the middle of nirvana, ashima wakes up
she doesn't know how she reached this sphere
full of silver lights and black silhouettes
everyone she knows seems to be present

greyly shimmering leaflets are floating
through the air, gently, like mist
and red fireflies are clapping their wings
the crowd of shadows is starting to sing:

"ashima, you have come a long way to us
we are the voices of nirvana, listen
nirvana is the deep core of your soul
the land of your most secret wishes

sometimes, in your dreams, you reach out
when you are waiting for a train and the
rays of the sun are reflecting your thoughts
you never find us but we know where you are

you may call us your wishes, we belong to you
as ****, as branko and your mom do
are you the imitation of your dreams, ashima?
or do your dreams imitate you, our girl?

certainly, you will become the thing you dread
we know that you took revenge recently
when you were slashing the *******'s throat
as his blood was slowly flowing into the sheets"

in the middle of her apartment, ashima wakes up
she becomes aware of a crinkled and dark leaflet
it is more than twenty years old, informing about
something that ashima can not read anymore

the letters on the leaflet have become dust
ashima is taking a deep breath and sighs
her pitbull branko is strolling towards her
his wet tongue, ashima thinks, feels cute

how can we
ever ever ever
be friends again?

i miss you like i
miss our childhoods...






everything has turned to dust
that flows through my hands

entering a classroom that
is not a classroom

my pupils inside: i haven't seen them for a long time
i want them to listen to me
yet the pupils aren't listening; they don't (want to) perceive me.
all the time i look at them, they look into another direction.

they aren't rebelling or trying to sabotage my lesson;
my lesson that isn't a lesson.

it's an encounter between an older person and
younger persons who aren't young anymore but
who haven't grown up yet.

the pupils changed into beings-in-between.

i can sense that they have become independent.
the pupils don't need a teacher anymore;
they aren't ready for making a living either.  

many teachers need to be needed.
most pupils want to be autonomous.

teachers will be disappointed by the end of a day.
pupils dislike school by the end of most lessons.

dear athena, that's wired. isn't it?
therefore we need to think about it. we need to ask ourselves:

WHAT has to be changed?

my past is filled with oedipal encounters:
many men i needed to rival

today i unintentionally travelled (really?)
today i involuntarily travelled (no way)
today i travelled into my past:

memories of many men that i needed to rival.
due to my fatherless childhood i didn't have
a man to compete against; that's why i JUMPED at countless chances to do so. none of these conflicts happened by chance.

i picked strangers to compete against.
but then there was this day. a certain day. a secret night.

since then, i have gradually and later on gently overcome my need to compete.

i was bewildered today because i competed against another man. why?

out of the dark, i developed an affection for a woman younger than me; a brief moment of ****** interest. the competitor involved walked her home after a meeting the three of us had been together.

while they were strolling down the street, i followed them. i wanted to see what they were doing. i wanted to observe how they observed each other's attraction.

did so for a couple of minutes; they didn't take notice of me; or they were playing dead while their mouths were overfilled with squishing sounds of saliva.

and then ––  as promptly as old patterns of rivalry had emerged ––
i lost my affection for this young woman.

affection left my soul like a spirit leaves a dead body. the affection vanished into thin air since it couldn't find a shelter in my soul. so this wired affection went on a quest for another creature.

i didn't say goodbye. just wrote something down.

dear tracy
i am listening to your words
listening to your voice

dear tracy i am listening to you because
you calm me

a morning is given grace
by your voice but first of all:
forgiveness

how could a day forgive?
heaven yeah: it can!

since a day is god
and god is a day
and god is inside everything
and god is inside everyone
and god forgives
god, without words, made me feel how to forgive

it's a lack of compassion that made the
cold-hearted so cold-hearted
the giants of our earth will fall
sooner or later.

i am talking about goliath
i am talking about donald
i am talking about supercilious creatures
who fight against themselves day by day
but who celebrate autonomy

dear tracy
i am listening to your words
listening to your voice

dear tracy
i am listening to you because
you're a good person.

a good person does the right thing;
and by spreading a strong spiritual vibe
you have been doing the right thing

dear tracy please:

spread the vibe
     and then

spread the vibe
     and then

speak the word.

"hell yeah?" the burglar asked the pusher.

(the burglar: wirily, ambitious. plain appearance, dressed in black.
the pusher: wealthy, strong and well-conditioned. sumptuous leather jacket.)

"hell yeah", the pusher answered. "now i got what i like and you got what you need."

both grinned. after a day of extensive work, they relaxed in a hellish pub. it was visited by diplomatic creatures whose faces were recognizable like shadows.
this pub was called babylon 8.

the burglar and the pusher touched glasses to celebrate their deal. they drank.

"nothing to be written down",
the pusher added. burglar nodded. voices of the diplomatic creatures surrounding them; satanic sighs; bold laughter; their sentences sounded like orders that are dictated by judges.
  
snakes and rats. gravelpitbulls and red cats. creatures with excellent memory. guys who swallow their plans after they had learned them by heart.

a while later, a lady entered the pub: adorable like a man's fantasy; imitable like a woman's strategy. her hair color was your desire; her skin color the color of your dreams.
her name was fantasy girl.

suddenly, the lights went out; suddenly, a lightblue sun illuminated the room. no one noticed. everyone so busy hiding something that nothing was hid.
the creatures of babylon 8 therefore didn't perceive the light.

fantasy girl ordered a drink. she told the bartender: "i need freedom. that's what i want from you, the people of babylon 8."

the bartender a giant with a face full of shining scars; his right ear missing; flashy shirt; an ancient first name; speaker of all world languages combined: the omerta.

fantasy girl took a sip from a silver brew which had been served to her by the bartender. she took out a single match and there was no box; a long cigarette between her unknown lips.

bartender looked at fantasy girl. without saying a word, he turned his stubble cheek into her direction. fantasy girl lighted the match.
lightblue fire. inhaling. smoke. iceblue cloud.

the burglar and the pusher had been looking at fantasy girl all the time.
fantasy girl held a white fountain pen and took a black sheet out of a green handbag. she began to write.

we're from the
south

we're coming for
you

we're giving you
the wrong address in order to hunt
you

don't you worry about it
don't you feel intimidated it's
fine being inferior
don't ya think bro?

...is a purple curtain

behind this curtain
is your flesh

behind your flesh
is your ego

behind your ego is the real you
we've been on a journey
like grandpa and grandmom
take me away
take me to the place of the real you

belongingness: what does this word mean?

i would explain to my son that belongingness is something you can't touch but feel.
eden, my daughter, would get a kiss.

for many years i was looking for people i could belong to; i was on a quest. and this quest went along with fears and doubts. this quest was ******* the energy out of my mind and out of my soul...

how did this quest began, though? on a strange day, i was asked a very intimate question by a professor; a professor whose background i'm aware of; she asked me:

"do you have a religious or a political past?"

her question came out of nowhere. she blindsided me.
therefore, i wasn't prepared for an answer that could have satisfied her; regardless what my past really is about.

at this point of my life i wasn't aware about my ancestors; but the professor's questions caused me to become it.

"do you have a religious or a political past?"

i do know about my past now; but the answer i gave this lady was not sufficient for her. by the end of our conversation she said:

"i am sorry. can't shake your hand now. have to go toilet."

that was it. oh my, was i disappointed and frustrated; because this certain lady would have opened many doors for me; doors for which she administrated the keys.

you know, there are days in your life that want to you to be desperate. and yes: i was desperate. about being rejected. and that i wasn't able to have access to dorrs that lead to important conferences, meetings and to important people.

but you know what? it doesn't matter anymore.

because here, on hellopoetry, i have found a place of belogningness.
and what my real past is will remain hid: a secret in a purple-colored casket i have the key to.

hellopoetry is a place of belongingness. not just for me but for many many kind-hearted people. and i am not stating this from an opportunist's view: i can feel you guys here and sometimes i sense kindred spirits.

fly me from atlanta to
miami

hurry up
fast

don't make me
wait
you ain't
tizzop

The book of life has been written
With my breath I fill the pages
Walking over the paper of the day
The day that already happened

I'm speaking through a whale's eyes
Stranded before the coast of fate
Amidst chunks of its life
The whale will chocke on the air

Its eye color becomes monochrome
Exhausted
A creature at the end of its life
Squirting a last, scrawny fountain

The water is trickling into the sand
Received by the surf
Carried into the ocean
All this happened already

Fog is permeating the air
My breath became darkgrey
Glimpse of the deceased whale
This is how the book of life ends

last minutes of trust
in a poem made of dust
you made me hate me

feel the real injection daily
everything seems to poke
you turned into a joke

everything seems to shine
twinkle and rhyme
feel the real injection

this verse is for my protection
this verse is killing you: action!
lamps out of broken teeth

brother breaks his brother's knee
brother stabs his brother's stomach
feel the real injection

everything is for protection
turning choirboys into warriors
brother against brother

everything is an attraction
brother smashes brother's face in
brother against brother face it:

brother against brother