"drei" poems
Ich habe Fernweh nach dem Ort an dem du gerade bist, und Heimweh nach dem Platz in deinem Herzen.
Ich liebe den Himmel, und ich wünschte ich wäre das Firmament über dir, egal ob hinter Wolken versteckt oder mit den Gestirnen geschmückt, denn dann würde ich dich immer sehen und immer bei dir seien.
Jedoch könnte ich dich nie berühren, von da oben.
Vielleicht wäre es besser, der Boden zu seien. Du legst dich in mein warmes Gras und atmest meinen Duft ein, nach einem Regenschauer, und würdest dabei lächeln. Aber als der Boden, würdest du mich je bemerken? Und wenn ja, würdest du nicht nur auf mich herabsehen?
Das würde ich nicht überleben, wir sind alle aus Sternenstaub, und besonders in der Liebe gleich.
Aber wenn du mir diese drei Worte ins Ohr flüsterst oder sie mir ins Gesicht schreist, dann ist es eh egal. Denn dann steht alles auf dem Kopf, am Himmel ist das Wasser der Meere und ich schwimme durch Wolken. Ich gehe über Federn, und das Federkleid der Vögel besteht aus Gras.
So ist es, zumindest in meinem Kopf, jedes Mal nachdem du mein Herz mit den Schmetterlingen, die du in meinem Bauch ausgesetzt hast, erschütterst hast.
May 9, 2014
May 9, 2014 at 11:13 AM UTC
Electricity is talking; we understand
losing interest in conversations. creating land.
droplets of ice define the day
August ends in the middle of May
intrepid peeling; scabs of the earth
the hands fail; a dumbed feeling
Eins, the seeing blind have never seen
on screen, a shape of many faces
in through the open windows outdoors
smoke dries the unseen. air dry.
so paragon goners repulse the cleaver
the system has failed
so much detail to attention
when pink isn’t even a color
time is wasted on time itself
unfortunate cookie
wires once made you. complete.
ask for the answer to the question is nothing
Zwei light birds on a wire
the happenstance, the fire
where hell listens, there sight is drawn
selfishly we glare and mourn
******* ice cubes yelling “Jesus may…”
cold as **** the cesspool lay.
So, maybe I’m over thinking this.
Apr 14, 2014
Apr 14, 2014 at 4:38 AM UTC
Okay, wenn ich mich recht erinnere, hast du gesagt:
"Wenn ich nach drei Monaten immer noch keine Gefühle für sie hab',
wird sie wohl nicht die Richtige sein."
Wenn ich mich recht erinnere, hattest du es verneint:
"Es gibt tausend Unterschiede, die uns teiln'."
Hast du dich blind gestellt
oder konntest du nicht aufpassen?
Sie hat dich längst in ihr Herz geschlossen...
1.) ... und die Tür zugeknallt
Wie ihr lachend auf dem Rasen spielt
dein Lächeln ist eine Kurve, die alles wieder gerade biegt
2.) ... und den Riegel vorgeschoben
Wie ihr euch wissend gegenübersitzt
und wir zwei plötzlich wieder Fremde sind
3.) ... und den Schlüssel dreimal umgedreht
(ich bin cool damit)
Okay, du hältst mich weder für clever,
noch bin ich aus zuckersüßem Kaugummi,
aber wenn Anfassen so simpel sein soll
und Berühren eine Kunst;
um was wollen wir dann wetten, dass sie schwach wird,
wenn du deine Hände benutzt?
Also bleiben deine in den ihren,
so lange du sie dort lässt
4.) ...und Martin:
Der Deckel muss nichtmal genau passen,
wenn er all die Hitze hält
Sep 7, 2018
Sep 7, 2018 at 9:17 AM UTC
A tri-pod death
One-two-three
You should have seen
The way my sister looked at me
It was such a surprise
I looked at her widened eyes
She didn't understand why I cried
Sadness turned to rage
It wasn't her fault, but her age
I crumpled up the page
That brought the news
My parents sister, niece, and nephew
My fists turned black & blue
I was only six years old
Didn't grasp how fire made them cold
Of all these things that I was told
I screamed and couldn't understand
Why God, had used his hand
I think that's when I turned my back
On the promise of his promised land
The hardest part was the coffins size
One for an adult, a teenager, and a tiny child
Older, I later went and apologized
To my sister for the things I said
She didn't remember the words I bled
But it relieved me when she said forgive &
Forget
Jan 3, 2013
Jan 3, 2013 at 10:23 AM UTC
ale czysto w tej E - U - Ρ - Ω - Π - J - Η.
islam leiben historie, nicht Ottoman,
Ottoman pseudo Khan, islam leiben historie:
eins, zwei, drei und vierte maulkor'bzeugè'naussagé
(sausage marathon); they love their history
mind you ψι and τρι... kaganiec u stóp w
krok stu odpowiedzi w jedną droge:
raz jeszcze, w las i w cienie iglą tej tętnicy wybryk chęć
na gre, by zadać zbyteczne pytanie! na odpowiedź
oskarzyć czas z wiedzą zegara,
i tą ostateczną, wartą końca, namylsnością...
ponownie oskarzyć jako począt narodu -
tylko golasa, warte imie kroka ka ka kar Kasymir'ah!
wedle Tsara, czołem w tło wymagań na wyryte
zapomnieniem lat: oddech'u Uzbeku chafta
wspomnień wiatru i chorongiew latawcy
jak niby urojen konceptu narodu...
ja człek tylko w psiarni! i tak powiem, tak,
wiara, panem na zbyt wiele pamięci Janosika
i Radio Maria;
o tyle czerpie zgon, ponownie, ponownie,
by ocalić, niby swiętego, i pogrzebać swój naród...
ale wstyd! wstyd! by ocalić jednego niby
swiętego, lecz nadać obszar rodem Polak'a
ponad Polske i w ramach Irlandie; jaki to wstyd
nawet ten mnie wart, co nie nada snu!
co za wstyd - nie warto umierać wiele razy,
kiedy ten ostatecny oznacza raz jeszcze -
quo vadis, qua lectio? -
ten raz jeszcze, i ten ostatni, o tyle wiele poradni
przed wieloma nocami snu.
Jun 7, 2016
Jun 7, 2016 at 9:54 PM UTC
A C H T U N G
acht neun acht sechs vier fünf zwo
sechs drei eins fünf sieben acht null
the radio spews over and over again
void of meaning. or so they want
us to think as the concrete wall
keeps standing. they came to liberate us
which they did. of thought of speech
of word. see the ashen blocks sit
aren’t they pretty? as dark red blotches
stain their smooth surfaces like lipstick on
wine glasses. an old fan turns slowly
in a dusty room just south of
Leipzig. men dream of hazy Stalinist façades
as she brings a cigarette to her
rouged lips. Belomorkanal. the rusted olive uniform
pulls tighter as she draws in. octaves
bellow from the speakers. it is time
to hear from the homeland. how sickles
gleam for the Union just like they
did for Lenin. we don’t talk about
him now though. sickles don’t gleam here
like they ought to. the reels revolve
unforgiving to the cry of a winter’s
night. the ruby snow glints in torchlight.
the night goes on. it has to.
sieben sechs vier zwo neun drei sechs
eins sieben null sechs acht fünf sieben
E N D E
May 13, 2013
May 13, 2013 at 8:49 PM UTC
Eins, Zwei, Drei
you look me in the eye
I felt the breath of cupid,
Along where roses lie
And **** do I see
Why love's an ecstasy
It pulls me in then pulls me out
To make a fantasy
Cause hearts will always teach
The lies we always preach
For I can say and lie
The words, ich liebe dich
Mar 5, 2017
Mar 5, 2017 at 11:19 AM UTC
I’ve woken up
No longer under your spell
Sobered up
And realised I’m in Hell
You played me hard
But you did it well
You built me up
But in the end I fell
Eins, zwei, drei, vier,
The truth was blurred but now it’s clear
Eins, zwei, drei, vier,
My scars are now my souvenirs
Eins, zwei, drei, vier,
I’ve lost it all and now I have no fear
Eins, zwei, drei, vier,
Now I see that the end is near
Now you’re gone
And I can heal
You were too good
To be real
My heart was always
yours to steal
But you burned it up
And I can’t feel
Eins, zwei, drei, vier,
The truth was blurred but now it’s clear
Eins, zwei, drei, vier,
My scars are now my souvenirs
Eins, zwei, drei, vier,
I’ve lost it all and now I have no fear
Eins, zwei, drei, vier,
Now I see that the end is near
Feb 20, 2018
Feb 20, 2018 at 3:55 PM UTC
One, bee, drei, orange, Wednesday,
Counting in riddles;
A hug, a meal, a song, a breath,
Loving in rhymes;
School, work, isolation, frenzy,
Living in chaos;
A lyric, a whisper, a dance, an eyelash,
Waking in dreams.
Mar 19, 2015
Mar 19, 2015 at 9:23 AM UTC
One Two, Three Four
Eins Zwei, Drei Vier
Quatre Trois, Zero Un
We sway to the tunes
As we maintain eye contact
The vividness of the day in when we once met
The promise to teach me your dance
You kept your word
That this wouldn't last
That these moments would go by fast
Step by step I paved my way
to this day
As you taught me the Waltz
The Cajun, The Classics
You swept me off my feet as we turned and twisted
In our own little world
Where the skies filled with glitter
And the stars no longer wandered
My naive self refused to believe this would end
That the fireworks I hear were not just hallucinations
I was blind, confused, oblivious to my surroundings
Unable to snap back to reality
And Time flew by fast like you reminded me
I was to return soon
Return to a place that was no longer next to your side
A Lonesome place where my feelings must hide
As of you, you will move on to much brighter filled days
Quickly forgetting the way we played
When the music controlled our swings, our sways
Oh the way you moved my heart
Feelings I shall not forget
For now you have taught me your dance
The steps that I learned hastened so fast
Those steps that led us to our Final Dance
Mar 16, 2014
Mar 16, 2014 at 9:38 PM UTC
beginning with the circle, for there are three,
in an "abstract" sense of staging the Δ, i.e.:
Ω
Υ O alternatively:
o υ
ω
thus in deed... (macron as omega, in greek acute
accent on upsilon to extract omega, or the p(oo)l sound..
acute on the omicron?
gives you upsilon... omega = macron
on the omicron)...
however the Σ (totality) of this observation?
how many s esses are there, orthodoxically speaking?
s, ś, ß (a german grapheme, variant of the roman æ,
æsc, sszett - albeit the latter invoking consonants,
the former? volwels),
the greek will now provide the aesthetic twins:
σ, ς (whereby the latter, created the french
ç, which is another form of s... e.g.
in the word waiter: garçon) -
the final s form? akin to ß... but the germans
would write it as -sch-,
east germans say it when writing ich...
in english the compound is -sh-
sharp...
in slavic it's: either -sz- a variant of
the english -sh-, or with a caron, e.g. š...
like the car-manufacturer: škoda... which, when said
in adverts... omits the diacritical mark.
how many "satans" can you see? count:
s, ś, ß, σ, ς, ç, (-sh- / -sz- /) š:
eins, zwei, drei, vier, fünf, sechs, sieben...
you can site that seven headed hydra in the book of
revelation... right about now.
oh sure... let's go crazy, put an extra head on the beast:
the cyrillic ш... some sort of rigid omega, or worse still...
an uptight double-"u".... it's a V, a ******* V, a double V!
qui? qui? wee? wee? it's a soft-v!
May 15, 2017
May 15, 2017 at 9:20 AM UTC