Tage werden kürzer
Nächte werden länger

Zeit in sich zugehen
noch näher, noch enger

Regen ziert die triste Natur
wie ein gespieltes Lachen den Moment
In der Situation ausreichend
aber mit Luft nach oben

Blätter färben sich und fallen herab
wie meine Wangen und meine Zweifel wenn du mich umgibst

Weiße Blütenblätter
stolpern gedankenverloren
über altersschwache Illusionen

Wir schreiten vor
Der Winter steht bevor
Und keine Ahnung
Ob der Sommer
Und der Herbst
Das war, was es sich wünschte,
Unser Herz.

Zwischen dem Blick
Zurück und dem nach vorne,
Entreißen wir uns immer wieder
Dem Moment.
In all den Wünschen, Träumen, Illusionen,
uns zu verlieren ist unser Talent.

Vertrauen zu entschlüsseln,
Zu uns und zu den anderen,
Verliert sich in den Tausenden
Scherben des Misstrauens,
Zweifel und Unsicherheit,
Verfolgen uns wie ein Pfeil.
Und eh wir uns versehen,
Hat die Angst uns in den Krallen.

Wir dürfen bluten.
Oft ist's uns fast egal,
Wir wollen nicht vor Schmerzen schreien,
Hauptsache niemand weiß,
Wie's um uns steht.
Und niemand weiß,
Wie es uns wirklich geht.

Verhält ein Held sich so?
So Selbstvernichtungs-froh?
Wir opfern uns dem Überlebensmechanismus,
Denn lieber rennen wir das ganze Leben,
Als zu uns selbst zu stehen,
Uns selbst zu sehen,
Verdammt, wir sind nicht hier,
Nur um zu überleben!

here's one draft that got away...
カラカン timidity -
that's a googlewhack...
the original had me sentence the word
カラカン (karakan)...
it must have arrived in Europe
via the Mongol invasion...
a way for the Mongols to joke
about: how the Spanish might
find self-deprecating humour
when the Spanish Armada was...
thwarted by the north sea winds...
and no second battle of Hastings
took place...
a bit like this...
but カラカン (karakan) is a racial
slur... some Europeans associate
with orientals:
mid-itch: mid-jit...
not a dwarf... or an imp...
something compact:
might possibly fit inside a suitcase
and be allowed: smuggling rights...
the word must have origins
in katakana...
it has syllable stresses that
wouldn't all it to exist
in a framework of: "too many vowels" /
"too many consonants"...

you could literally rewrite the word: CARE
with an ancient Latin grapheme of:
AE...
Adam and Eve being the Siamese genesis:
CÆR....
if you were to rewrite it utilising
the proper diacritical markers
to leave an itch for syllables...
you'd require to write something akin
to CA-RE... CA'RÉ
カ
レ

but katakana syllables don't cut it...
i'll need some Hangul...
i won't be able t write any of it on this html
canvas...
i'll provide a link where it might
be available...

******... karakan: i believe the mongols
brought the word over...
settled down in Crimea and became
the... Tatars...
   funny... somehow...
they too were short... yet they brought
around a Japanese word...
they probably ended up bringing the concept
of the dumpling...
although in eastern Europe a lot of pork
was used... and mushrooms and sauerkraut...

tomorrow i fiction a death of me...
i have a death wish...
i need some Hangul scribbles...
the katakana will not do enough justice...
sure... **** a lemon squint eyed...
break at many bones in the body
to exact an extension of height:
oriental... wannabe pharaoh...
   the David vs. Goliath analogy works just
so much... before there's that other
analogy concerning dogs...
some... *******... mongrel mutt...
some mongrel Mongol...
some nipper barking up a leg of an
Alsatian...
it's just... ******* annoying...
the small dogs bark...
the bigger dogs just itch for a throat to bite...

i forgot to squint: to **** at a lemon...
never mind the Thai suntan...
i just keep forgetting towering over
these pawn-escapades...
not that they are:
height is by no means an advantage...
but the word is still intanct:
i can't excavate the original draft:
the web page reads a message:
502 Bad Gateway...

i too can't believe in a linear variation
of Hangul...
but since the originator of the phonetic
is so modern...
i cannot have any suspicion
that: patriarch Abraham invented the
Hebrew script...

god... i love this following sentence:
avant-garde typographer ahn sangsu made
a font for the "hangul dada"
ダダ...

mahler's: i don't like mahler...
but... der einsame im herbst -
the wind can whine and pretend to whistle...
the mountains might want to shuffle
toward a chime... the bells seemingly have
forgotten...
i don't like Mahler... but...
scatter brain bound as i am...
i can see the "funny" side of t'ings...
orange bulwarks of spinning fire...
eating themselves to perpetuate
a leverage of presence...

   when one doesn't require on some
pop Orff... the recluse is left with
the availability of... Ma... surd H followed up
with a Ler: not leer...
a square turns out to be a rhombus...
this ugly side of the readily available life...
it took me 4 sessions to sit through
watching the Fisher King by a Terry Gilliam...
it usually takes me the same amount
of time and interlude:
to watch a movie these days...
not some mythological absentee purpose
of a last reserved me...
too worded:
i just don't have the passion
to be entertained when i can be
the script baron: predicting all that's too take place
in some televised drama...

it's not fun watching something so
predicable...
re-hear-sals...
salons of: rehearing...
            opera dies a most tragic impromptu...
as must ballet...
it's not that it's not important:
it's only that too few of the most important
people... don't care as much
to keep it: living...
a sadness creeps in:
a sort of sadness associate with:
not postmodern-re-constructivism...
something that requires: revision...
an added: oomph!

the romance has seized to exist... to be preserved...
i can do this alone on
a single hard-on...
i'm consolidating my presence like
Horace might have at the turn of the tide
when paganism of the cultured people was
replaced by the newly found monotheism
of semites readied to burn books
of the Alexandrian library...
and there... was this concern...
for the northern barbarians and their
polytheism..
wood on wood:
i like the term:
                       oculus per oculus...

to the heart of stone... an uvula of
pearl...
teeth as letters: better still: some variation
of lettering...
congested molars of consonants...
teasing lady vowels...
attired in niqabs... piercing eyes...
all new no other way that's easy
via h'americana..

- mind you... i'll just visit a Turkish *******
and forget... there might have been
a wife... a child involved?
there was all this investment in... baron hope?
like my grandfather?
like my grandfather hoped...
oh... right... his wife created a consiracy
with her son and a distant cousin...
so that his grandson didn't make it to
his deathbed...
i had spare time on my hands:
i had hands!
i could have catered to this dying son...
if he wasn't going to meet up with ol'
Abraham.. he might have met up with
a Czarnoboch...

so much for family...
i preserve the unison of me...
if i disappoint i'll disappoint myself prior
to having to disappoint anyone after...
that's a comforting thought.
first i fail...
and if there's no one i could possibly
fail...
beside myself:
hmm... Diogenes of Sinope...
he must have been a man-child...
at least a man-child is creative till his death...
i can't contest a similar argument
for a woman-child...

how about... no?

https://allpoetry.com/poem/15995108-%E3%82%AB%E3%83%A9%E3%82%AB%E3%83%B3-timidity-by-Matthew­-Conrad