Night
lights on

remember?

How can you?
So tenderly have I disguised my story
from your childish dreams
your shaking grip -
that I can breathe now

Why does the City never sleep?
Because it has no one to sleep with.

Don't be so shy, love

I wonder why
you never slapped me
and never slept with me

You see:
I need to know you
inside out

Say it aloud:
*I'll stay with you.

The totality of everything
Might give you peace
And freedom
After a period of time
And serious work

The totality of everything
Sometimes shows up
Comes out
Shines through for you
In the tiniest moment
And whispers:
Hang in there!

I had the strangest dream last night;
I dreamt of my whole family
and how, beneath the stars and in the peaceful dark-

they were all-

I can't say it!
It't so hard, I swear!

As I woke up the fright was so unbearable,
and what I saw so unimportant;

So now I hope, and hope, and hope
that, holding on to physical reality, it breaks not.

It takes not on a shape as in my dream.

You see?

nothing to say
I sit
in the dark place with my back split
open.

But no time
believe me darling
and the wounds will heal.

And my grace is sufficient for thee
so he said, and exploded
for my strenghth is made perfect
in what, I wondered
in weakness
*and the sound surrounded
my drowning lungs
as they plunged
in the beauty.

It's frightening so
so frightening to be
open and bare and the mask
fluttering in the
air beside me
a moment from
floating away

That which does not **** you
makes you only stronger-
feels like
I do not belong to those
who believe in strong words

for if it hurts so much
if it leaves
but an emptiness
a huge amount of
feeling the distance-

and if I had
almost been killed
if I am hovering in between strong words to cling to
and a stone cold path into the nothingness-

how does that make me stronger?

A sick feeling
reaches up
and crawls out of my throat
its feet still dangling in the middle of me

Pull it out I cant
for it is still tied to my skin

Forget about it
does not work either
for I do feel it with every step.

Nothing comes naturally
anymore nothing
flows through you and makes you
forget time
everyone tells you It's coming back
It' coming
back but you just wonder
when and how

A poem without words with nothing that
hurts
your fragile skin
a poem that connects what
within
still beats for peace and freedom

Run -
I will have to run for a while
and not think of all the things
at once.

I have learned that
   If things hurt most
  My eyes open widest

  If heart and head touch
        I stumble
        In as much as I would
        If I could

Tell you all that.

Trembling I see
those faces in the crowd
unlike some others - someone touches me -
unlike
some
others
I do like their traces melt with mine

I like their eyes and gazes meet with
hands that touch my only corners in my pockets where
their words could reach not

where no treachery could fool
my mother's, granny's, ancestreral ancestors' own tongues

Filled lungs so full with empty unsaid potentiality
for empty phrases

that I have stiched them in my pocket corners
instead of lurking between empty lines

So,
loving eyes and hands and faces
are more welcome
and more warmly are embracing
my own traces

my own traces.

All foot prints
carry
light

all floors are
steady

If you find them

A spark glows brighter
if you let it

I hate
sad poetry
I hate when flood gates
do not open
stuck inside
bite
grind
I hate
sad poetry

Why are you shivering?
I just remembered-
something from your past?
No, yes - i dont know-
nothing that lasts
in any way.
How come your breath seems so repressed?
It does not-
-and your eyes narrowed?
And how come you keep asking me
all these things-
pierce my heart-
with that sharpened arrow?
I did not mean to-*
of course you did not-
that's like you
and you're whole lot
revisiting forbidden sites!

        Thus speaks one side of the two-colored face
                as the other speaks against it;
                          while the falcon keeps on turning,
                  unorientated, round and round

                                                                                      in the pale sunlight.

In the middle there is a black stone
With white lines written on it:

This will give you a new name
And new hope.

And as the pretty sound of these words fades, i hear a new sound.

It is the bright laughter of two children in rhe rain -

And the light begins to shine infinitely

Throwing up
My body gives me all
Lungs
                   Head
Filth
                Straw

in my veins-

And all comes up
In a vast whirlwind
Of freeing and fresh
Air

And soaks me fully
I am here.

No one ever set foot in
The cave of forgotten books

No one trusts in paper-filled
Sheds with icy floor

There is no nook and crany
Anymore
That you may want to wipe
The dust off.

There is more than one
Of those caves

And in my childrens' stories
I know how to guide you there

I know.

If fear be you,
Then I will flung my arms wide open
As to embrace the coming pain.

I raise my arms and hands
To catch the lightning strike
That reaches out and makes
No single warning sound.

I lift my gaze up to the clouds
And wish for rain,
And from your cold breath spills
Colder disdain.

If in my body warmth arises,
I will disguise each single sign
So that your ice caps will not melt;
Not now, nor at another time in space.

I will be jerking off in silence
Not to offend your violent glance;
Undress I will exclusively behind
The shadow in the darkest shady place.

I promise this, my love -
Excuse the word:

As long as we shall live
I will remain a solid ground
I will not give up hope;

I be there for your feet to treat on,
For eyes to pierce and burn my flesh;

I be your scapegoat
In good times and sorrow,
And I’ll be still here if
Tomorrow spears are thrown
At your cold face.

Remember this, though:

That you are nothing but my muse
Here to abuse for any purpose;
And that my work grows on your back -

If you excuse again my honesty -

And that, at last, your vicious icy soul belongs
To no one but to me,
Agreed or not.

Make up your mind

Before I make it up for you.

~ Florence and the Machine ~
           ♡

Sometimes I *******
Hate poetry
Wait -
No. Enemies don' be
Fooled
I am an addict
A freakin monster, ruled
By the same force
That rules the mind
Of all war masters

Disaster's coming fast
Into this land
So **** the world
And **** the
Hand
That writes this ****

For in the end
It is my fears that guide
Each tiny bit of thought
Each little note and piece
And fraught imagination.

It is not butterflies
That lead the way my dear:

It's chaos.

I
am
here.

Clinging to the golden needle
I pull and pull
As hard as I can.

But I cannot shift it -
It won’t move
A single bit.

So I get up
And turn my head
And look to the other North.

You go inward trying to
listen
listen

but the child
does not speak to you
yet

I can't change my heart
Who can?

A warm, wrapped-up love soaks all
that is me -
To remain.

"I never writ before my spirit moved", says the poet to herself,
lays down shield and sword
and switches off




her computer.

an echo maker stands
at the shore
lifting up his hands

hands

gath'ring up his strength
and with

the full length of his arm

catches
fish.

I cannot see it
yet
and dare not
letting go

Steam

rises.

Fuel is rare
              these days

But I'll find some
            on the way.

I'll find some.

Eigentlich gehört
        Der erste Gedanke,
Wenn ich aufstehe,

Immer dir.

So it seems you sit in your deepest wound
what to do, dear
what to do except
be extra kind to it
so that it
finally
may heal

So I wear bleeding lilacs on my sleeves -
now what?

It was not me that shot the ghost
of fading hours.

And neither was it you who danced so much,
who lost the cup of violet flowers
and who then left.

So now -
now what?

I wonder;
We shall not fear the breaking ice,
the rumbling surface.

Maybe it's this that will suffice
to mend what had been broken?
Maybe we could just glue those ruins
and blow away the ashes from the ground,
as a token of our love
towards this earth.

Yes, now I know -
this should work out.

Away the cov'ring snow!
Thunder - Come, strike!
Crash open!

Now,
Let's go.

Curtain call
head filled with only
terror images and
slight feelings of
sickness

Still,
the day is
a beautiful one.

Please share a piece
of my unlit heart
with yours.

Good to see you take it
with a laugh a smile a
teary eye from being so
connected
Good to see you are
relieved
Good
my dear
to see you hear the lightness