you stay still,
listen,
and then utter
your honest wish which is
to share your
overflowing
Love
with someone.

Tell me one thing that makes you really sad, he begged her.

Looking at his eye lashes, she wondered, then said, there is one thing.

What is it, he wanted to know.

It’s when I am trying to see you the way you were as a child.

He smiled a confused smile. But you cannot know that. We only know each other for a few weeks.

Her face brightened up, her eyes watered; exactly, she said. Exactly.

You look back at
Universe
feeling
no one's
untouchable
no one'd
reject
a hand cupping
a starry cheek
feeling
surprisingly warm;
So you do it

♥
smarter than some poeple
think.

better than a night without
a drink.

better yet,
and still I will forget
this wonderous tale as soon
as I-Phone five
sends its betrayal
to the precursor.

Alongside my body
there walks a shadow

that only melts
with my own shape
at night

You only know
the shadow

Darkening in vain the strange face
Imprints itself on every tree,
On every leaf;
Running in a twisted halo I can’t stop
I can’t breathe -
And I know
What some have told you;
What life is -
And again I feel – when I find myself
In the land of walking shadows, of growing fears
- no fear at all.

If you don't like me
just say it

come on, man

don't be such a baby

Spit it out
for ****'s sake - make me proud of you
once

Down down down
we go -
(and so what, I think)
into the endless,
endless reversed tunnel;
("when most I wink", he says)
and nobody ever,
ever tells us
("then do mine eyes best see")
that all that is waiting
on the other side -
is the same tunnel
all over again.
(but we cannot know)
And what is worse:
It does not matter.
(and we should not care,
and we are asleep)

Before sleep comes
before eyes fall
before daylight

I dream.
And dream I do
of the brightest of bright nights
of time and distance
of no resistance
of liquid lights-

thus I fear not
what I will know
for every night
has a bright shadow
that comes-
with daylight.

One Two Three
Four Five Six Seven
Eight Nine T-

sorry I gotta go, coffee's ready.

I give up posing and addressing
the wrong muses

said the king

But how -
how on earth should we proceed?

asks the Consultant exhausted

begin, the king begins to speak,
begin to bleed what you are feeling
and they will see

but my king, my-

Bring it on, my friend!* Assures the king,
makes him stand up,
start,

and begin with his tale
as if it was also theirs

and as the mighty audience glares at him
he feels a heavy hand
that seeks his shoulder

looks at his king, his friend, remembers
how the two got older

how in the milky light of dawn their faces
have grown and changed
and still have kept their basis

behind some shades and shapes
and shadows of the times -

He looks up now, relieved,
he gazes at his king and speaks
free now

and seeks no more for words
but finds.

have you ever seen
a true face
in grace and honesty so similar to those
you saw in dreams at night

and has it dawned to you already
that this face is more faithful
than any of your words could be

despair not
and keep looking into those eyes
and fear not:

the wordless truth
of silent singleheartedness.

I am the body
of a poem
that stops

when you drop
the paper

I am not sound
when your lips
quit performing

when your fingertips
start to touch
my inky lips

then am I truly alive.

true poetry is of such nature
that every
single
letter
hurts

blood has to spill
from tongue
and lips

it grips you
by the nerves
hits
you
so
hard

that any other thing will  be
just something else.