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Me Jul 2017
I mean it.
Me Mar 28
About halfway through you know, the way is there, but it unfolds from your insides. It is the most intimate path anyone can know, there for only your feet to walk on, and yet connected to every moth, every silky feather, every wanderer on the road. It is yours because you saw it. It spirals out of your own heart, sometimes emerald green and delightful, sometimes pure darkness, horrid images and torn faces, sometimes red and wide and patient.
Me Mar 28
Look left, look right. What is it that is really going on? What is this running about?
You look down to your feet. Where you have stopped, a nest of bluebells has grown out of the pavement and bravely snuggles into the holes of your white sneakers, its friendly and courageous purple almost seems to be greeting you. Only, you don’t hear it yet. The sidewalk has burst open in a kind of slow motion, and the roots of a nearby plane tree have cork-******* out of the concrete to breathe the air. Two ladybugs sit on a fresh cherry blossom, looking up to you.
Now look back, think. What is all the running about?
Me Mar 28
It will tare you to pieces regularly, it will take ages on one day and and seconds on another day, it will boldly and mercilessly confront you with layer after layer after layer of
Fear and then
That which lies beneath this fear, with all the shame in the world of touching nice things, with a heavy leaden guilt that has been hiding so well you barely recognise it, with a sadness so untouched and so exposed you barely dare to induce something else into it, with a
That scares you to the bone and at first catapults you into running, again, in awe and total, unspeakable - and unspoken -  horror.
All these bits are from a short story, from, I don't really know what it will be, to be honest.
Me Jan 2012
Unreal cities within the claws of two great lions;

None-existing walls to be mended in the end;

Roaring clocks that tick off all time;

Eternal sunshine spots no mind after all;

And we still think about meanings of form:

Me Nov 2014
If everything goes

You will


Be there.
Me Nov 2014
I hear the rain outside my window.


Instead I think about why

He does not seem to want me.
Me Jul 9
An open heart opens
eyes by mere
passing by
Me Dec 2014
One** word too much -
what a pity -
a poem as such...

(has absolutely not enough space for all the stuff it needs to fit in. I will never understand the ten-word-philosophical-powerbar-poetry. But: no offence!)
Sometimes I am like that. Sorry but structure for writing poetry is not my cup of tea.
Please shout if you feel the need.
Me May 27
steadfast and
and a purple shine
and full of

Glowing in moon-
and sunlight:

Me Nov 2015
On a essayé beaucoup
on a rigolé
pour ne pas

laisser la tristesse
envelopper tous

In thought of the Paris victims. And everybody else.
Me Jan 2012
Outside the storm moves things to their ends;
Outside it is cold, and cold hands
Make me frown and I fear
The end, myself.

I stand at the window,
Seeing things reflected; the glow
Which comes from your eyes.

So I am not scared anymore,
Because inside
Things are not reflected,
But wide
And as peaceful as ever.
Me Jan 2012
Hours go by, not unnoticed but silent.
I sit in the snow,
Counting the scars and how violent
They had been.

Slowly the melting water soaks
My coat and my bones.
And the turning pages do not make me frown any longer.

Dropping from my face,
Not a single tear but water.
And, tying my shoe lace,
I get up for the last time.
Me Mar 21
And from here
we create
what we want
and not
til it happens
Good Morning!
Me Sep 9
You cast your eyes down and I see your eyelashes, black and white, alternately gracing the see-through skin. You are in a state of such vulnerability that I do not even want to tell you, dare to tell you,
how beautiful you look from here, how your -
How you amaze me just by sitting like this,
so obviously ashamed of the closeness and with what is materialising
in the air, so thick we could slice it, and probably do so -
I think too much, still.
And you probably hear me thinking, not the thoughts though.
But I let a bit of the time pass, just like this, looking at you
because I cannot not be looking;
you averting your gaze, exuding what I feel to be just one
beat away from connecting.
I will wait a bit more, but I will not walk further away from here.
For I already see your left hand twitching a little, relaxing
just a tiny bit, getting ready to actually stretch out - and it makes
my stomach and throat and chest tighten in a rebellious sort of maybe-it’ll-be-too-much - so yes, it is me, too. It is me who is making the air thick, and my breathing heavy.
A sense of foreboding so palpable.
So I’ll wait.
Me Apr 12
The good Things...

Do you deserve them - do you not deserve them
It is not even a question; it is an obstacle. Just another boulder to be dissolved;
but slowly, cautiously. Because this
Has been placed there with fearful force
And by many hands labouring
To block out the things
To have a buffer
to gain
to be able to get

Now you know. You can breathe.
No force needed, Love.
Take your time and

The Things will be delighted

Me Nov 2015
I wish
for the universe
to bring a breeze to lift your bed tonight

And softly carry you
To me.
Me Jul 2019
How sweet you are
and super-honest
when you declare
"I am not inspired!"
And I think
You are not even
Me Jan 26
When you got through to
The utter and absolute
Of yourself and your eyes water
And your knees tremble cause
In your Heart the word
Reverberates and echoes:
Me Sep 2019
you stay still,
and then utter
your honest wish which is
to share your
with someone.
Me Jul 12
Don't hide
your embarrassed
perfectionist side, dear
it is
by far
the cutest
Me Sep 2019
Who or what
turned toward me
that night
and showed those
yellow eyes?

Since then-
I think-
everything changed
When I was a kid one night I woke up terribly scared and crying and only remembered a pair of glowing yellow eyes turning and looking at me. Til now I never forgot it and think of that dream or whatever it was regularly. I like to think of it as something touching me, like, spiritually. And then I scare myself with the thought that it might have been something wicked. But no. In fact I don't really think that. In fact I know that it had triggered something back then, for sure. Argh.
Me Jul 2019
This is not a poem, really.
I am not a native of English. So, please, if you ever find something that is linguistically super unlogical - feel free to let me know :)
And, yo, I won't be mad.
(what a way to try to make this more poetic.... Haha) ❤️
Thanks for liking it. This is really not a poem, though :D i am really asking you to check on my grammar ^^
Me Aug 2019
Clothed in
fancy stuff
in vans and converse and with
Hands full of labels, shapes and
He still remains
A kid of sun
and water

as he is jumping
over rocks and stone
with a holy confidence
that brings the smile
back on my face
And gives me rest
Me Jan 19
But is not scared
And does not tear
Her heart in half
But instead
Keeps mending
With full power
Me Oct 2014
To all of you.

Just because.
Me Oct 2014
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!

Let's go.
When people read this they should be reminded of something. But in fact I know they are not. And I know I am a poetry freak - so behold, kids... it is all okay.
Me Oct 2019
how sticks and stones
connect with you

how different notes
of fragrance
put you into
another place and time-

how feathers
are talking to your eyes
and how

in wind
and water-
and in light-

how there are
calming sounds
of peace and knowing

and just how gentle
(and how smart)
they guide you

through the night
Me Jun 21
Things burn.
Everything and all the people today are so
Incredibly touchy like
Every little detail about you every
Gesture you could potentially make
Their entire world and foundation
It is not
no, kid it is
Absolutely and plainly factual like
The tiny fractals in your body
In Others the trembling and stutter-
Cut it,
Nothing’s your fault
It is simply
your design by nature
Me Jul 13
Force and matter holding
hands together wandering
through time and space
on traces
of stardust
Me Jul 5
Why do they call everything
by different names
I wonder
wait a sec and
reply to myself: cause
how else would they
find it on the
Hmmm...ha ha. Just a thought. Really never liked or felt comfortable with this calling-everything-by-different-names
Me Apr 26
I play all in
for a while now-
I cannot fail


You play all in
for quite some time now
I know you know how
even if
you are unsure
at times

Me Apr 16
Jumping in and
out of
is the most
Me Jan 2012
I like short poems, she said
And mechanically he –
Not knowing what –
Liked her and her head.

He wrote page after page,
Confusing her smile
With admiration and love,
Igniting her rage.

In the end she set fire
To a huge pile of paper
That included no more
Than his wish to admire.
Me Nov 2019
You are
How can you
ever be
Thank you so much for the most most valuable lesson of all my life. I love you. Always.
Me Nov 2019
Look at your
with ruthless openness
shoot up
into heights that make you
all colours
bright and shining
Me May 29
You just
pop up in
my dream
lightbulbs hanging
over your caps and I
and smile
Me Jan 2012
Battered and crumbled, fallen to pieces,
The cities lie dusty, and silent He is.
Until looking at her face,
So pure and so shiny,
Pacing towards her, through the debris he walks.

Unfolding his black wings,
He comes to a halt.
And she stands, with a shiver,
Her eyes wide in awe.

A second of loud noise,
Then a minute of hush,
So they stand and they stare,
For nobody to see.

In the end it is Him
Who is finally vanquished,
By the immediate gaze
Of a flesh and blood creature.

Arising again, He grows paler -
             and paler.
Me Jul 2013
Someone wrote down:

Je marcherai les yeux fixés sur mes pensées
Triste, et pour moi le jour sera comme la nuit...

Sad, and for me the day will be just like the night

so, tell me now, why would I fight for this?
Why should I-
Tell me I'm not right
and I will moan no longer

I cannot hear you now,
that means you are not here to tell me
that this time I have to be stronger
that I rely on no one but myself
that *this time
there is no great tree
of life-

no riddle that, when solved, divides no more
those two who see the world
with different eyes

no divine twist that flies
right in the line of fire

no sublime turn -
nothing to admire
in the end

*But that someone stopped writing then,
so as to mend his wounds.
*2nd and 3rd line stolen!
Me May 2013
no use to play this track backwards

those trips don't do no good
she says, and flings my hand aside

i bite you if you keep me here all day!

don t think i miss the bit of joy
and freedom that i had
back in the days

don t think this is a hopeless call
for help
don t think that just a single twist in this game could
or would-
or might-
give you only the slightest bit of an idea

of life itself.

no use to play this track backwards
i say
Me Feb 25
I love
the earth
so much
I want it
to remain
and be
Me Feb 2012
It is not your words,
that unpack
the essentials things.

And thus, I am afraid,
I will have to tell you;

I only love
the silences
in-between the boring,
Boring words we say.
*sounds terribly negative, but isn't!
Me Jul 2019
The green
comes back
slowly lurking
around the corner
with innocent gesture

and asks kindly
whether or not
it was time
to recover.

And our hands
and I-
Me Feb 2012
I'm too wrecked
to write now
I'm so cracked
just see how

my words don't make sense
any more.

You put me
into a state which,
can't you see,
leaves me to stich

all my itchings
               by myself.
Me Jul 2013
Everything is connetcted, love,
Don’t be a *****
Don't push yourself back to the start
Of our argument

As the smoke settles
And the ark resides
On this vast island

I feel safe to tell you:
That our start has been
From then on until now
Also the end;

Everything is connected, love.
Me Sep 2013
Erase those lines

erase this praise of empty phrases

an empty phrase itself as such

and as much as the poet hates to say

that his own work constitutes not

of substance

so does this writer here refuse

to go back to the start

and to reduce this piece

to shapes in black and white

to heartshaped shapes

without a heart

Erase those lines
Me Jan 2013
Your sharp edges
Against my body
I don’t mind-
I won’t-

Find yourself a good companion
To smash against the wall
Howl out in thunder
What you are not:

Of flesh and blood like me.
Me Aug 2019
As path
and walk
and feet
brought me
up on the rocks
I followed

and on my way

and sheep

and seagulls

a pheasant

and the dog

It's odd
to feel you
on the way

It hurts
to be
so utterly connected

And as I said
Now, every time we stray
from our path
they'll gently
push us back
always with open eyes
and open hearts
Thank  You :)
Me Dec 2019
Here who feels
Completely and utterly
Please tell me :(
Me Apr 23
I looked at the sundown
and looked at my ***
and could't decide
which one I liked best
true story!
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