Automatic face

recognition: wearing masks --


for your privacy.

Because HelloPoetry requires a CSRF cookie I leave

Best wishes to all my readers

Writers do not write

to live, they write in the hope --


of learning to die.

While talking, we find

in our circular thoughts what --


we already knew.

A small hatch opens

in the fog, there's a small hand --


waving a little.

Maybe I shall die,

but after that I'll come back --


it's so great with you!

I am not as good

as I can be. I'm afraid --


of God. Pray for me.

I see no flat earth,

when I look down from the plane --


yet the trees are flat.

The Promised Land does

exist, it is on the map --


of my beating heart.

Who is a brain boss?

Who balances his thinkles --


and does really know?

They have braced themselves,

their heels in the solid earth --


their boots full of fear.

Don't go to sleep, you

long to love, dare to do it --


and don't go to sleep!

She visits my house,

and I am a guide who learns --


what things are special.

If it's peace between

I am me and you are you --


we may call it love.

Powerless people

are like powerful people:


mad at the others.

I then thought I knew

what love is, and I said yes --


yes, I do love you.

There are no best years,

they're different, all of them --


are most beautiful.

She likes me, so she

does know human nature, or --


is she just stupid?

It is just like then,

as if I have tumbled down --


in between two times.

Counting down how much

longer it will last: the clock --


of being in love.

Ism's promise order.

Is their standard everything --


is for everyone?

My kisses ask you:

please love me, I do love you --


because I kiss you.

He's very jealous

of his wife's dearest loved one --


whom he has to play.

Sometimes the sunlight

glints in the drop that I am --


in the sea of life.

Beginnings are small,

the big thing will come later --


I believed, I hoped.

I came for support,

but he doesn't know what to say --


He is at a loss.

Forgive me
I don't want to explain away
the fact that I needed time

to put the consequences
of one or the other
together

The appearances may be against me
but I didn't hold aloof
really, I never wait and see

I don't look away
I just look thoroughly
for a well-considered decision

because so much is happening
and often there is no clear line
in all the details

And I don't want to do anything wrong
That is the seed
of my passivity

My aversion to misdeeds

From the beginning

they seek us, running, sniffing:


the poor human souls.

It is super thin,

the gold leaf that will survive --


the iconoclasm.

The staff members are the worst
they only do their job half way
spying on the chief
and each other, to blow with
the wind when it turns

They take care
of their career, what is good
for them is called good
for the cause, they hold on
and will spoil everything

Even if it's just hearsay
a good story is indestructible
It steals what you want to have
and you black-wash everyone who contradicts
to appear white yourself

while you are the first to cry
'Stop thief!'
with a passing side note
which amplifies the rumours
by contradicting them

The pebble: I shrank,

it grew into a mountain --


with me on top now!

Squat down, knees to chin,

and your arms tight around them --


safe like angel's wings.

The front wheel drags, grr,

short of breath I cycle on --


panting like a dog.

Shall I open up

to this man, shall I venture --


on falling in love?

True love may be tired,

not capable, not obliged --


just sweet, a sweetheart.

Out of my kindness

I do things big, learn from me:


small is good enough.

In the city there are many doors
that are open at night
to being awake
experiencing something together
across the threshold
no longer being an outsider

In the city there are many sidewalks
where people stand
and explore distant areas
with flexible words
questions and mental leaps
to become familiar with them

In the city there are many gardens
where children play, birds
whistle and all year round, flowers
attract bees and people
to come and feast
on the nectar of the day

Grandpa is bony,

his mouth speaks clearly, even --


though he says nothing.

She waves to me: mummy look
She plays in the grass, the earth is turning
She shouts throughout summer and rains

from white sand to black sand
She is a little pig, gruntgrunt
and one more time, one more time

One two see sour sive
singers she has, and ***** seet
that climb everything: mummy look

Her hands want to take everything
feeling the whole grown-up life
herself, caution, it is hot

She drags my bag with her like a lady
She likes sweet gruel and bread
without crust, cheeks with peanut butter

She cheers for the gnomes: mummy look
who always come to help her
at night when she sleeps

The rapini and the nuts
I buy from the gnomes
the rest is delivered
under the green rooflet

Not that I need much
lead and gold are just wishes
maybe a happiness
in other people's eyes

I rather live warmly
in satisfaction
a clean nest
of myself

proven solid
that aged it is
outside is chaos
and the evening chills

The empty chair may

not be my father's chair, but --


I do miss him now.

The sun takes a stand

in the middle of the street --


breathing burning hot.

The past is a rope,

a tangled ball of knots, play --


with it, like a cat.

Farewell: we don't eat,

it just seems that way, as you --


also see in plays.

Not using the bike

is Zen: wishing to arrive --


where you always are.

The wind blows away

all that love has been, it is --


rustling in the trees.

It is not personal
when things go wrong
although I live wisely
because we do everything together

in the karma mixer
of instincts and virtues
and circumstances that change
from moment to moment

My life is too short
for any karma of my own
which will come later
as a drop in the brew

from the karma mixer
that's all I am
unimportant, even
if I'm famous

A worm in my head

wants to wriggle at my fate –


it drives me crazy.

It's very secret,

so I don't tell anyone --


not even myself.

I like to run with

the hare and hunt with the hounds --


Is that my freedom?