"frau" poems
Nothing lulls to sleep quite like concrete waves
of endless tarmac roads,
the car christened Frau Marienkäfer by raindrops
of a passing thundercloud.
Baby butterfly whose pigments are smeared across
the windshield –
were you chasing the ‘Big City’ dream like
all the rest?
May 25, 2014
May 25, 2014 at 8:03 PM UTC
She rubs the night onto her eyes
In her dish sized eyes, tiny moons shine
She's a galaxy girl
A world all her own
And you know you want her
But all you can do is revolve around her
She grinds up meteors, hoping for a ****
Her coffee *** is filled with Saturn smoke
She's a galaxy girl
A world all her own
And you lay awake and think about her
But all you can do is revolve around her
Inside her chest, a black hole sits
Aurora borealis pours out her fingertips
She's a galaxy girl
A world all her own
And you can't stand the longing for her
But all you can do is revolve around her
The stars form her body, her face, her hips
Kissing space directly on the lips
She's a galaxy girl
A world all her own
You are a million aeons away from her
And all you can do is revolve around her
Nov 5, 2012
Nov 5, 2012 at 12:34 PM UTC
wieso es nicht gelang
wieso es gelang
als sie mich suchten zum liebemachen
als sie mich fanden zum liebemachen
wer von ihnen sang
wer von ihnen sang
sie kamen in scharen
mit freunden verwandten
all jene damen
all jene herren
ich weiß nicht wann
ich weiß nicht wo
doch ich weiß wie
ich weiß es wie
mir ist bewusst:
dichter und autoren werden
keine liebe füreinander hegen
(poet's note: my opinion on
the last three verses above has
fundamentally changed since i been
publishing here.)
liebe mich freund
liebe mich freundin
gib mir
schenk mir
suche mich
finde mich
ich habe mich auf der suche nämlich
versucht
kennst du, bruder, den weg?
den zugfahrplan?
die bedeutung der stahlstreben?
ich brauche eine antwort von
den damen
den herren
finde mich
suche mich
verschenke mich
vergib mir denn
ich schrieb über zivilisationen
von witterung und gier
witterung und gier
freunde sind zwischen dem glitzern
auf dem fluss versteckt wie perlen
sie aufzuspüren zwischen dem wittern
zwischen dem wittern
während des witterns
ich weiß nicht ob du weißt wovon
ich rede
ich rede
aber das ist in ordnung freund
aber das ist ok freundin
wir müssen bloß bruder
wir müssen bloß schwester
fragen
sie sitzen am gleis bei den zügen
sie sind immer da
wie der
“ICH-BIN-DA” aus der kinderbibel
meines sohnes
verstehst du das?
begreifst du das?
fühlst du mich?
viele afro-amerikaner fragen
“you feel me?” wenn sie
etwas ausdrücken und teilen wollen
ich liebe
diesen ausdruck
er zeugt von
etwas gutem, das manchen
menschen fehlt
auf der brust trage ich das tattoo
welches du abschriebst
in einer stunde aus
schatten
witterung
gier
ich wollte das
ich wollte dass
du zu mir kamst
zwischen den schatten
unter der gier
über der witterung
in einem augenblick des
“you feel me”
wie unsere häute glänzten
wie unsere augen glitzerten
wie unsere hände zitterten
wie wir…
ach komm!
was sage ich dir, freund
was sage ich dir, freundin
du weißt es doch dir
ist es bewusst denn du schriebst
mein tattoo ab in
ein buch mit perlweißen seiten
ein buch mit onyxschwarzen seiten
du bist perlweiß freund
du bist onyxschwarz freundin
du bist perlweiß freundin
du bist onyxschwarz freund
ich liebe habeshas
ich liebe äthiopien
ich liebe meine frau
ich liebe meinen sohn
ich liebe meine tochter
you feel me?
Dec 28, 2019
Dec 28, 2019 at 5:27 PM UTC
horns sound, flees the sun
men tire, day’s undone;
blue is wrung to grey,
rendered with a gasp,
and tar night, foul
as a steel pike, or
frau Troost’s onyx soul,
settles on the world
like a cyclone blanket
in a concrete shower.
Feb 17, 2014
Feb 17, 2014 at 6:35 PM UTC
My most persistent friends
have become six hours of jetlag
and the fading buzz of airline coffee--
as black and unforgiving as our red-eye flight,
as we wander German streets-- Füssen,
where the air is always crisp
and graceful, even awkwardly emerging
from an ugly winter.
Neuschwanstein castle sits mockingly
in the horizon-- the locals pass it by,
as I, some baffled foreigner
from Nowhere, Ohio,
where the streets bear gas stations
and the shameless scars
of recent construction (always
building, nothing built)
stand in disbelief.
Our thirst brings Jenny
and I to a Getränkeladen --
I sip on my first taste
of Apfelsaftschorle
as a roaring crowd
of local teens barge in,
with the violence of
a tornado we'd see in Xenia...
They speak in a crude,
indistinguishable slang
that Frau never could have
taught us
in room 322
Jenny hovers mindlessly
by the door-- contemplating
a bottle of Coca-Cola,
as the teenage stampede
shoves her off to the side--
fleeing out the door,
having bought nothing,
as the storekeeper sighs in disbelief.
They tore through
such a quaint little shop
with such an aimless recklessness,
one wouldn't think
a centuries-old castle
looms nonchalantly in the distance...
I was thirteen years old
and clueless--
Ben, who I believe is now
in juvie, and Ryan
stand on either side--
dumpy teenagers
in baggy clothes,
speaking in a crude,
brutal slang
that was invented in its usage.
We loitered every street
that would tolerate us,
in these exhausted Ohioan
suburbs, we tore through sidewalks
bearing unremarkable houses
in a sleepy neighborhood
with no grand castles nearby.
Our lazy strides, our ******
banter-- from Füssen, Germany,
to Who Cares, Ohio--
whether there's Neuschwanstein
or a Speedway to conquer,
there's never anything to do at home.
So wie ist das Leben...
May 16, 2012
May 16, 2012 at 9:09 PM UTC
There's a party going on upstairs,
your invited, to come and have a scare.
H.G. Wells, will meet you at the gate,
costumes required, hurry don't be late.
Vincent Price will be tonights D.J.
Halloween is his favorite Holiday.
He's spinning "Thriller", while dressed up as "Kiss".
Watching Claude Rains do the "Transylvania Twist".
Steve McQueen came dressed up as the "Blob",
he's serving up the zombie shish-ka-bobs.
Elsa Lanchester placed real bats within her hair.
While Marty Feldman keeps yelling "Frau Blucher".
At the stroke of the witching hour,
St. Peter amps up all the power.
A disco ball drops down from a cloud.
Out on the dance floor, forms a massive crowd.
Michael Jackson then leads them all in dance,
while Lon Chaney and Karloff take their chance,
to join the angels in harmony,
While "Monster Mash" is sang by Lugosi.
Even the Devil made it through the door.
He's the one sporting an Elvis pompadour.
So much fun is had by one and all,
at Heavens Annual Halloween Ball
Oct 26, 2011
Oct 26, 2011 at 6:37 PM UTC
My most persistent friends
have become six hours of jetlag
and the fading buzz of airline coffee--
as black and unforgiving as our red-eye flight,
as we wander German streets-- Füssen,
where the air is always crisp
and graceful, even awkwardly emerging
from an ugly winter.
Neuschwanstein castle sits mockingly
in the horizon-- the locals pass it by,
as I, some baffled foreigner
from Nowhere, Ohio,
where the streets bear gas stations
and the shameless scars
of recent construction (always
building, nothing built)
stand in disbelief.
Our thirst brings Jenny
and I to a Getränkeladen --
I sip on my first taste
of Apfelsaftschorle
as a roaring crowd
of local teens barge in,
with the violence of
a tornado we'd see in Xenia...
They speak in a crude,
indistinguishable slang
that Frau never could have
taught us
in room 322
Jenny hovers mindlessly
by the door-- contemplating
a bottle of Coca-Cola,
as the teenage stampede
shoves her off to the side--
fleeing out the door,
having bought nothing,
as the storekeeper sighs in disbelief.
They tore through
such a quaint little shop
with such an aimless recklessness,
one wouldn't think
a centuries-old castle
looms nonchalantly in the distance...
I was thirteen years old
and clueless--
Ben, who I believe is now
in juvie, and Ryan
stand on either side--
dumpy teenagers
in baggy clothes,
speaking in a crude,
brutal slang
that was invented in its usage.
We loitered every street
that would tolerate us,
in these exhausted Ohioan
suburbs, we tore through sidewalks
bearing unremarkable houses
in a sleepy neighborhood
with no grand castles nearby.
Our lazy strides, our ******
banter-- from Füssen, Germany,
to Who Cares, Ohio--
whether there's Neuschwanstein
or a Speedway to conquer,
there's never anything to do at home.
So wie ist das Leben...
May 16, 2012
May 16, 2012 at 9:00 PM UTC
There's a party going on upstairs,
your invited, to come and have a scare.
H.G. Wells, will meet you at the gate,
costumes required, hurry don't be late.
Vincent Price will be tonights D.J.
Halloween is his favorite Holiday.
He's spinning "Thriller", while dressed up as "Kiss".
Watching Claude Rains do the "Transylvania Twist".
Steve McQueen came dressed up as the "Blob",
he's serving up the zombie shish-ka-bobs.
Elsa Lanchester placed real bats within her hair.
While Marty Feldom keeps yelling "Frau Blucher".
At the stroke of the witching hour,
St. Peter amps up all the power.
A disco ball drops down from a cloud.
Out on the dance floor, forms a massive crowd.
Michael Jackson then leads them all in dance,
while Lon Chaney and Karloff take their chance,
to join the angels in harmony,
While "Monster Mash" is sang by Lugosi.
Even the Devil made it through the door.
He's the one sporting an Elvis pompadour.
So much fun is had by one and all,
at Heavens Annual Halloween Ball
Oct 29, 2010
Oct 29, 2010 at 5:12 PM UTC
http://prezi.com/lf50ud2c7bc1/das-universum-ist-aber-eine-frau/
Apr 18, 2013
Apr 18, 2013 at 3:44 PM UTC
Das Mädel ist so scheissverwöhnt
denn sie kriegt ihr geliebtes Augenmerk,
doch würd' sie davon nichts mehr krieg'n
ob nicht für ihre Muschi und ****
Ich schätze das heißt sie hat Glück.
Die Frau ist ja so scheissverwöhnt
und sie wisst sie sieht gut aus.
Sie wisst g'rade was sie damit kriegen kann
doch nur wenn man vergeltet.
Ich schätze das heißt sie hat Glück.
Die Dirne ist so scheissverwöhnt,
ein Opfer ihres Schattens;
es hängt nur von wie viel mehr Zeit
bevor er ihr ganz und gar frisst.
Ich schätze das heißt sie hat Glück.
Das Schlampe ist ja so scheissverwöhnt
denn sie kriegt das geliebte Augenmerk,
doch würd' sie davon nichts mehr krieg'n
ob nicht für ihre Muschi und ****
Ich schätze das heißt sie hat Glück.
Jul 7, 2013
Jul 7, 2013 at 8:51 AM UTC
I'm just your cigarette.
Burn me away.
Inhale my toxic fumes.
Fed to the ashtray.
Cooler than nicotine.
Coarser than sand.
Softer than velvetine.
Blood on my hands.
Lungs overwhelmed by the blitzkrieg.
Breathe, if your conscience allows.
Das Blut des Bündnis aushusten,
Leide, du schreckliche Frau.
Menthol defies your betrayal,
caffeine defies your shot nerves.
Tobacco curbs your addiction,
cancer is what you deserve.
Feb 15, 2018
Feb 15, 2018 at 12:04 PM UTC
Ich bin ein Dichter
Ich besprenkle Herzen
Mit Versen, Blumen
Reimen und Küssen
Vor dieser stummen
Schönheit
Die sich entfernt
Und die ich anstarre
Oh! Frau
Madam
Gott hat den Himmel geöffnet
Um uns zu treffen und zu begrüßen
Zwei Kelche mit Honig
Sind in der Nähe der Oase
Du und ich gehen schwimmen
Mitten im Sommer
Und danach, auf dem schönen Bürgersteig
Werden wir spazieren gehen
Was für ein Abend der Schönheit
Der Liebe, des Friedens
Der Freude und Fröhlichkeit
Vor der Bucht!
Copyright © Oktober 2024, Hébert Logerie, Alle Rechte vorbehalten.
Hébert Logerie ist Autor zahlreicher Gedichtsammlungen.
Nov 10, 2024
Nov 10, 2024 at 11:36 PM UTC
Die Nerven liegen blank,
irgendwo draußen auf der Straße, ein Penner auf der Bank
Schau mich traurig um, alle gehen einfach weiter
sind egoistisch und schauen nur auf ihre Karriereleiter...
Irgendwo anders ein Schüler in der Klasse
er unterscheidet sich in mehr als nur Aussehen und Rasse
Oberflächlichkeit im Vordergrund,
viele Narben, im herzen der wunde Punkt
Egal ob Ignoranz, Brutalität oder Worte
das Messer trotzdem das Herz durchbohrte....
Referate, Arbeiten und Praktika stehen an
Angst und Stress gehen mit dir da dran
weißt selbst nicht mehr wo vorne und hinten ist
tust was du kannst, verlierst wer du bist
Wo anders ein Träumer
wohnt bei seiner Großmutter,
sie hat Krebs und reuma
hofft sie lebt noch lange
er gibt ihr zum Abschied immer einen Kuss auf die Wange
eines Tages wird sie gehen
dann wirst du alleine da stehen
doch hab keine Angst vor dem Tag
es gibt da draußen jemand der dich mag
Hinterm Fenster ein alter Mann
fragt sich:"was fang ich nur mit dieser Rente an?"
seine Frau bereits krank,
all seine Hoffnung liegt jetzt bei der Bank
die jedoch dankend ablehnt
und ihm nur den Rücken zudreht
Medikament zu teuer, keine Versicherung gegeben,
er will doch nur gemeinsam mit seiner Frau leben.
Die Möglichkeit zu klauen, um das Leben zu retten
könnte enden im Gefängnis mit Wetten....
Zwischen richtig und falsch entscheiden
lieber daheim sitzen oder reisen ?
Gedanken, Hintergründe und Gefühle verstehen
ist bereit dafür Fehler zu begehen
denn irgendwo zwischen Angst, Stress und Wut
findest du Leute, die Liebe zeigen und das tut gut
Sei stark und du selbst
es ist egal das du nicht jedem gefällst
Dec 26, 2017
Dec 26, 2017 at 5:31 AM UTC
*choc bulimic in Edinburgh; the Welsh index and middle finger tactic,
that way a dozen models were ******* out to mind an economy.*
the next cards you'll pull from the packet
are all jokers - i.e. wild-cards -
western society begot laziness
that begot psychiatry that begot
war on terror - that somehow begot
war on terror, that didn't begot
philosophy, but it did begot crosswords -
as a Frau will testify, aged 91,
prompted-by-excuse-by-her-age:
doing the pensioner's bit: a Koepcke (1928 - 1977)
(i bet you wish it was K'oh eh pck'e'; ya?!
oder Andreas Köpke? nicht wie?),
VANDAL GRAND-GRANNY COMPLETES
A CROSSWORD - a thousand chandeliers
with a a hundred grand pianos crashed with Newton's
apple that day - the day was advertised state memorandum -
Hanzel and Gretyl came along for the sweets parade
expecting salutes in Swedish - contra beetroot -
some said agitations from the blues, some said
agitations from the beets - or so rooted -
agriculturally purple blooded, minor urban dwellers
sniffed out the cabbage-heads -
major urban dwellers sniffed their own **** out -
beginning with St. Petersburg and Cairo -
contra former violence? *sprechen zungefeinde,
zumal falschsprechen*.
Jul 16, 2016
Jul 16, 2016 at 11:00 PM UTC
I would rather not have frowned at the frau
She was my friend
Slatternly, frowzy, bedgraddled gal
I always wondered how and why she liked me
Like a boy who could be psyched out by bosoms.
I wasn't
I felt it peasant like.
Like a tike feeling in the dirt for flukes and rakes
Rake, she said she thought what I was.
Which would mean I could make her heart buzz
and would mean we could be one another.
Another life left to lonesome fevers in panting fogs.
I matter, so does she.
Dark matter.
Slathered in holes, stolen goals.
God we were the same.
It's a shame we were the same.
Feb 23, 2018
Feb 23, 2018 at 1:49 AM UTC
The void,
Its emptiness, fills my sense of self with nothing
Dark , its expanse as the midnight sky
Rules my emotions, like a king
I fight with the darkness for a sweet escape,
but it tones down to just a futile try.
Come one, come all, it’s happening again
Pushing away people, as I make my descent
I walk down the dammed lane
The blood moon forming a crescent.
Tantalising thoughts howl like a wolf at the moon
The feed on my trepid soul
The darkness is devoured, a void left like a boon.
Wandering through the road, with not a goal.
A flicker of hope,
Then lends you a rope.
It beams you up, a classic Trope.
It fills your void with what you think is good,
But you drown in water like no one should.
Drowning makes me breathe again, a fresh new perspective.
Frau Trude works like an antiseptic.
May 5, 2025
May 5, 2025 at 2:41 AM UTC
Mystic stages
in brown
and pink
so chocolate
and strawberry
still gossip
by Pacific
light and
climes are
cool for
mother to
surf if
Frau Klum
base here
the pink
sunflower in
her hair.
Jun 13, 2017
Jun 13, 2017 at 6:03 AM UTC
At her husband's behest, a young Frau
Took son to a rabbi with know-hau.
When she ventured to ask
Concerning the task,
He said, "Meine Frau, shouldn't be long nau."
Jan 14, 2017
Jan 14, 2017 at 10:53 AM UTC
atheistic scissors:
the definite article (the)
& the indefinite article (a)
so as consciousness
begins within the context
of a- (loss) of ego,
it's still a persistent
direct article (the)...
thus the unconscious
begins within the context
of no a- (loss) of ego to begin
with; meaning:
there was never any ego
to begin with...
i.e. an invoking
of an indirect article;
the randomness of dreams,
and our lack of control
thereof...
i still persist in thinking
that the subconscious
if fake, the medium easily
abused by sophistry
or therefore a lack of...
i.e. in proper disguise,
guiding the most effective
subversion of
the righteous vectors...
nonetheless,
to me there are still only two incissors
into an anti-freudian compass
of directing a marathon's course,
no trinity, no three tier
encompass of an "identity"...
no **** sapiens* either...
the split (schizoi) man...
beginning with the scissors
that are united within
the grammatical
category of articles,
such that we always seem to be
reduced toward legal terms
of the american constitution
and their amendments:
revisions that
become reiterations...
and what original?
what original?!
there was never any original
by current-affairs' standards!
id and the unconscious,
superego and the subconscious,
ego and consciousness -
hence the quasi-noun status of
index finger's
pressure "pointing"
at something,
that's a quality focus,
that descriptive mechanism
conjuring noun-foci,
that are nothing
but tarantula bites
of injecting the venom
of frau zensieren,
and yes, the practice is
feminine,
in the continental sense
moving outside the safety of
approving gender to
inanimate objects....
that are also noun-pools
of quicker-stepping in a tango
of spreschen...
some verbs can be
elevated to the nonsense
in the anglophone zeitgeist of
now... gender neutrality
cannot exist in the pronoun
category...
go to quebec,
and order a gender neutral
noun's worth of a coffee &
a bagel...
while sitting on a homosexual
chair, resting your elbows
on a hermaphrodite table...
looking at a "cis-gender" wall,
while talking lesbian
about animal rights...
you know that cain was a vegetarian?
these days russia
looks so much less menacing that
mainstream media deems it to be
so...
in this war, which is cold war II...
u.s.a. is the enemy...
sorry...
but when every citizen turns into
a *babushka ******
fuck it, i'm out, i'm bankrupt...
i can appreciate a ****** in a position
of power within a government...
but when ordinary people
turn into hitlers?!
**** it... i'm out...
i'm playing poker with a joker card.
Jun 28, 2017
Jun 28, 2017 at 1:32 PM UTC
Yung-Frau, le voyageur qui pourrait sur ta tête
S'arrêter, et poser le pied sur sa conquête,
Sentirait en son coeur un noble battement,
Quand son âme, au penchant de ta neige éternelle,
Pareille au jeune aiglon qui passe et lui tend l'aile,
Glisserait et fuirait sous le clair firmament.
Yung-Frau, je sais un coeur qui, comme toi, se cache.
Revêtu, comme toi, d'une robe sans tache,
Il est plus près de Dieu que tu ne l'es du ciel.
Ne t'étonne donc point, ô montagne sublime,
Si la première fois que j'en ai vu la cime,
J'ai cru le lieu trop haut pour être d'un mortel.
313
the ancient greeks
would call
asia's mysticism
nothing more
than a tautology...
tao:
the tao that can be
named,
is not the eternal
tao...
i see one tao:
the best way
you can help
the world,
is to forget the world,
and let the world
to forget you...
like some Irish
poet once wrote;
who was it?
ah!
louis macneice
in ehyeh asher ehyeh...
*in der beginn
und der ende
der nur dezent definition
ist tautologie:
mann ist mann,
frau frau,
und baum baum,
und welt... welt...*
which is the basic
principle of asiatic
"mysticism"...
der ding dass ist, ist...
und der ding dass nicht ist:
ist
nein-ist,
aber nicht: nein!
watching Swedish drama
i took to understand
the difference between
nein and nicht:
and nichts...
circus of nouns...
Asiatic mysticism -
tautology...
nein ist nicht ein absolut
nein:
the Asiatic folk
spiced it all up
with an addition of
adjectives... nichts mehr...
how can i have
an opinion about England,
not being an Englishman?
sidenote...
i'm no migrant exotica,
i am not luxury:
given that i am economic...
hence
my desire to hide
in German,
whenever i can,
while entertaining
the use of English...
i can't have an opinion
about England,
because i am not an Englishman
and the Englishman's
opinion is worth:
jack-shit...
out of curiosity,
i watch,
and... too apprehensive
about waiting
i forget to wait...
wenn da eine nachleben:
ich hoffen zu spreschen
deutsche...
i was born in Poland...
so...
what do sie denken my
meinung of England är,
given that i'm not an Englishman
and i'd föredra to speak
Deutsche
after death,
than be plagued by
this acquired tongue?
i don't have an opinion
worthy of it being designated
as having accommodation
to encompass said land,
i'm only here in passing:
i wish!
but for not being
a pompous brat,
my servitude is that of the natives...
of which i am not...
hence my minor
ploys of escapism in
german...
somehow...
a few words in German
alleviates the burden
of seeing the natives
buckle before
whoever reigns...
but being white,
i could almost pass off as
a Brit...
i can, and do...
and then on occassion:
i don't.
Jan 14, 2019
Jan 14, 2019 at 8:28 PM UTC
All right we had a row
That I won’t disavow
Between me and my lovely frau
God, she had a cow
Over some silly matter
I didn’t say she was getting fatter
At least it wasn’t directly at her
Just mentioned she could use a bigger platter
Get out, you coldhearted *******
Go out again and just get plastered
Too much pride to see a pastor
This marriage's a total disaster
It’s freezing outside
And that’s not just the downside
I know at home she has cried and cried
And I admit that I lied and lied
What has happened to our loving way
Perhaps I can’t ignore any distressful day
Felt compelled to drag it home in full display
Whine about the unjust pay
I swear I’ll turn things around
Focus on the home ground
Remember what once we found
Recreate something profound
Can’t go home with so much anger
Swimming in a sea of languor
A clenched fist can’t find home in a glove
But an open hand can touch fingers of love
Aug 12, 2019
Aug 12, 2019 at 6:15 AM UTC