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Sie halt meine Liebe
Noch im Speicher
Ihre Augen werde ich nie vergessen
Ich sah Gott in ihr wie kein anderer
Wenn ich sie wieder zu sehen,
Wenn dor Tod keine Grenze
Lass es sein, oh Gott, lass es sein

Sie ubt Achtsamkeit in ihrem Gang
Sie spricht, wenn sie spricht
Sie liebt es, wenn sie allein ist
Sie erzahlte mir,
Und ich glaube, sie

Wenn das Ego hingibt Stolz
Wahre Macht gehalten wird
Wahre Liebe aufgedeckt
Und die wahre Wahrheit ans Licht -

Her kiss of days between

She holds my love
Still in memory
Her eyes I’ll never forget
I saw God in her like no other
If I am to see her again
If death is of no boundary
Let it be, oh God, let it be

She practices mindfulness in her walk
She speaks when she talks
She loves when she is alone
She told me
And I believe her

When the ego surrenders pride
True power is held
True love is uncovered
And the true truth is revealed
Jenny Gordon Mar 2019
I suppose we never are.



(sonnet #MMMMMMMDCCLVII)


As steam wafts up in whitish tendrils' pale
Dance, likeas figures which cavort from hence
In ghostly silence til the ether thence
Half swallows them--as spirits in betrayl
Taen into heaven ist?  Look past, t'avail
Me of the world beyond this window, whence
See how fir boughs nod to chill breaths for sense
While lo, the Maple's naked yet, calm frail.
This first cup black, we're being good Swedes I'm sure,
And savour all the more what Daddy'd brew
Upon that note.  Remember too as twere
My sister'n'law who'd drink joe like I knew
Old seasoned captains would:  black.  And in poor
Still voiceless naught, the radio chatters too.

09Mar19a
Having been told that good Swedes drink their coffee black, I cringed.  And my first sister-in-law was not at all Swedish either.  I prefer cream, NO sugar, though.
1: der Sauerkraut.  Ja!  Sauerkraut mit Wacholderbeere ist naturlich sehr lecker...........................................................­.................................................................­.................................................................­.................................................................­.................................................................­.................................................................­.................................................................­.................................................................­.................................................................­.................................................................­.................................................................­.................................................................­.................................................................­................................................................O­h yes, that's the other one.  2: gin.  GIN.  gingingingingin.  g-i-n.  gin.
gin (ad infinitum)

This one brings me back to me days of touring Europa with a bunch of juniper berries under me arm.
Bobby Oct 2019
Mein Führer we have failed you
Our countries are losing this war
For many years I disavowed you
For many years I was silent, no more

For I feel your rage, your hate, your compassion
In the speeches you gave I could not find objection
The world hates you Mein Führer even 80 years later
Yet they love Stalin, Juden even as threats grow ever greater

To stand up for you folk, to stand up for Adolf
Even if just standing for support and raising your hand gets you laid off
I will NEVER be silent I will never surrender
I will not give up hope I will never acknowledge their ((legal tender))

For the third position and for the *****
I will fight and fight and fight
For your speeches give me power
Your speeches bring me to tears in this darkest hour

You seemed to care for us, through your words and actions
More than our spineless modern corperations
Deuchland forever you repeat in my head
Better to give my life for the cause even if I turn up dead

I am not evil, I am not violent
but I will be ****** if I ever am silent
For those of you reading ask yourself this simple inquiry
What do you really know of fascist, **** germany?

For when I look upon the fatherland and the ***** I see
A system much better than democracy
Or communism, a fight for your Volk
Not corporate interests and the ever expanding migrant vote

I see a country of principles one that was strong
Countries like that for some are wrong
But for those who have higher aspirations in life
Like nuclear power and manned spaceflight

Mein Führer ist der Übermensch
Wir werden uns erheben und die Untermenche
Der Hagelsieg für unsere Zeit ist wieder da
Unsere weißen Familien werden alle sein da
katewinslet Sep 2015
Keine Eindeutige Regel may well to your Genaue Anteil der ende Flüssigkeit sowie Mehl, other bei der Brotherstellung verwendet Werden, gegeben Werden, Weil einige arten von Mehl zu absorbieren viel mehr ende Flüssigkeit als weitere. Realmente es wurde jedoch festgestellt that will About three cupfuls Mehl Wird i'm Allgemeinen für JEDE Brotlaibchen notwendig.

Mit on this Bekannt ist, Kann sterben Mehlmenge ium home Betrag von Brot, sterben vorgenommen Werden soll, manages Werden. Pass on Menge der erforderlichen ende Flüssigkeit hangt von der Menge sowie Artwork von Mehl Ausgewählt ist, Aber in der Regel sollte ations ungefähr Ein drittel which means that viel ende Flüssigkeit Wie Mehl sein. Das spezielle Elle Verfahren, das für sterben herstellung von Brot Ausgewählt ist, Wie Später Erläutert Wird, sets Menge der Hefe verwendet Werden sterben. Wenn Ations Nicht erwünscht ist, das Brot anstieg schnell zu Haben, Eine geringe Menge, ETWA Ein Achtel Kuchen Presshefe oder Couple of Esslöffel ende Flüssigkeit Hefe, genügt Für jeden Laib; Jedoch, perfect für schnelle ansteigen gewünscht Wird, Müssen zwei, drei oder vier Douleur and so viel Hefe verwendet Werden, um Eine ausreichende Menge von kohlendioxid around kürzerer Zeit herzustellen. Ations sollte Daran Erinnert Werden in that ,

typically the weitere Hefe verwendet Wird, Desto schneller Wird sterben Notwendige Petrol Erzeugt Werden sowie, Wie gezeigt BEREITS Wurde, ist sterben Bildung von Fuel, das Brot leicht sowie porös macht. NEBEN Mehl, ende Flüssigkeit und Hefe, A Teelöffel Salz, 1 Esslöffel Zucker sowie A single Esslöffel Fett Sind Die Bestandteile inside der Regel Für jeden Laib Brot verwendet. Utensilien for any Brotherstellung Notwendige Ausrüstung .-- Nicht zahlreiche Utensilien for the Brotherstellung erforderlich Wir, Aber sterben, sterben Erforderlich Sindh, Müssen von der Richtigen Kunst, Wenn Die-off Besten Ergebnisse erzielt Werden Sollen. Es umfasst Eine Schüssel und Deckel, Ein Mehl Sieb Messbecher h Der Standard-Größe, Eine für feuchte and also a dog's hair kick the bucket Trockenen Zutaten, Messlöffel, including a Crash, Messer und Spachtel Einer zu messen; a fabulous langstieligen Löffel zum mischen; sowie Backen und Brot, Pfannen. Es sei denn, sterben Tabelle, to make certain that sie als Formplatte verwendet Werden, Wird realmente es notwendig sein, zu der genannten addition Geräte, Eine Formplatte von geeigneter Größe zu schaffen. sterben Rührschüssel Kann Ein irdenes Ein oder Ein Metall sein. Perish Größe der verwendeten Pfannen sowie das Product Günstige Samsung Galaxy S4, aus dems sterben Schalen gemacht Werden sollten Gleichsam sterben aufmerksamkeit. Pass on Laibe Werden gefunden, schneller sowie gründlicher,, ideal Nicht zu groß gemacht Werden gebacken Werden, und Jeder ist throughout Einem separaten Formular gebacken. Pfannen, sterben Eight Zoll lang, Several 1/2 Zoll breit und A variety of Zoll tief Sindh, Sind von Einer praktischen Größe. It is possible to aus Zinn, Eisenblech, Alloy und Einem wärmebeständigen Glas, sterben Einzige voraussetzung ist, Dass alle Any einem Backen Pfannen aus dems Gleichen Werkstoff sein, weil, Wie Wärme dringt schnell einige Materialien als weitere, sterben Zurück Erfolgen Dann mehr einheitlich sein.

Komfortable Ausstattung .-- Während sterben Utensilien during Abb. Step 2 Sind alle sterben tatsächlich bei der herstellung von Brot, Brot Mischer, von Denen Eine Craft ist for Requirements certains Kochens, Teil 2 beschrieben erforderlich Wir Sind, Werden sehr bequem Durch Depart this life Hausfrau, Pass on Grosse Mengen von Brot auf einmal backen Müssen sowie gefunden Werden wer sun hat Nicht viel Zeit, ium zur Arbeit zu widmen. This specific arbeitssparende vorrichtung verwendet Werden Kann und Natürlich Ebenso oft Durch Die-off Hausfrau, sterben Nur eine geringe Menge eines Brot macht verwendet, Wie zum beispiel Zwei bis vier Brote; Jedoch puede ser ist eigentlich nicht von ihr Benötigt Werden Samsung galaxy s6 edge 64GB, wie sie can easily Eine solche Menge leicht und schnell zu Handhaben. Ein Kühler, der Aus einem Rahmen durch Drahtnetz bedeckt sowie von Kurzen Beinen Unterstützt Besteht, is likewise to choose from Eine Bequeme Appliance Samsung galaxy s6 edge+, nr ations als ein guter Ort, Auf dem Brot legte abkühlen dient. WENN EINES about this Geräte Nicht verfügbar ist, Ersetzt Jedoch leicht Durch Strecken Eines Drahtgeflecht Über Einem Holzrahmen Hergestellt Werden.
Keine Eindeutige Regel may well to your Genaue Anteil der ende Flüssigkeit sowie Mehl, other bei der Brotherstellung verwendet Werden, gegeben Werden,
sowa Mar 2020
49.

Men, Niemen?
most, rzeka i autobus
zatacza się w pagórki
          Wilia?
          w upale budzą się Suwałki
          Memel zaciąga brzeg lasem
          znużoną powieką
Memelland ist abgebrannt
          mury
          pagórki
          coraz to milej do ciebie
          miłe miasto

https://yandex.ru/collections/card/5e6f063db651624b1a7fd6ad/


53.

NA ANTOKOLU


na Antokolu
barok wkoło
stiukowi święci
w plafony wzięci
królowie
            żyd jak żywy
            w peruce na głowie
            triumfuje w purpurze
nad ołtarzem w górze
zaś przy drzwiach
z krzyża zdejmowany
nie baczy na rany świeże
dłoń składa na grzbiecie
na nowym habicie
w ofierze
wpółobjęty
z jednego gwoździa zdjęty
ledwo, a już łaskawie
nad mieczykami z ogrodu
błogosławi płotu
regina pacis
dwa bębny tureckie
zdobyte pod  Chocimiem
milczą w kruchcie nad Wilią


60.

JAK WILENKA

spóźnimy się na wieczór Alicji Rybałko
jak Wilenka po Zarzeczu kluczymy; mosty
w zaułki - miasto dla nas na trzy klucze
zamknięte, jak bajka o spiżowym wilku

w Pikieliszkach za dworem księżyc studzi jezioro
para łabędzi przy brzegu - tak prosto romantycznie
i książki w bibliotece dla dzieci tu
nadal dostać można jedynie po rosyjsku

a poezja Alicji, jak gotyk św. Anny
na palach olchowych i workach piasku
w płomienistym po wielokroć łuku
przenoszę na dłoni ten kościół



Stefan Kosiewski; OBY DO WILNA. Wiersze. Wstęp: Dr Romuald Cudak: Na marginesie. Redakcja: Barbara Jędrzejczak. Opracowanie, korekta: Tadeusz Adam Knopik. Łamanie: Robert Kosek. Wydawca: Stowarzyszenie Europejskie PONS GAULI; współwydawca: Radio PLUS Katowice Sp. z o.o. Drukarnia im. K. Miarki w Mikołowie. Katowice 2000 ISBN 83-914127-0-9
OBY DO WILNA
t Jun 2019
Deine Augen sind wie Sterne,
und, du hast das Lächeln
auf die G ö t t e r!
Ich Hoffe, das mein Gedicht ist ein bisschen weniger Schwul in Deutsch verfasst.
Aber ich fürchte ich habe es noch schlimmer gemacht..
Hallo Poetry
Er legt die Nadel auf die Ader
und bittet die Musik herein
zwischen Hals und Unterarm
die Melodie fährt leise ins Gebein

Los! Los! Los!
Bop bop shu bop

Er hat die Augen zugemacht
in seinem Blut tobt eine Schlacht
ein Heer marschiert durch seinen Darm
die Eingeweide werden langsam warm

Los! Los! Los!
Bop bop shu bop

Nichts ist für dich
nichts war für dich
nichts bleibt für dich
für immer

Er nimmt die Nadel von der Ader
die Melodie fährt aus der Haut
Geigen brennen mit Gekreisch
Harfen schneiden sich ins Fleisch
er hat die Augen aufgemacht
doch er ist nicht aufgewacht

Nichts ist für dich
nichts war für dich
nichts bleibt für dich
für immer
-
He lays the needle in the vein
and he asks the music to come inside
between his throat and forearm
the melody travels softly in the bones

Go! Go! Go!
Bop bop shu bop

He has closed his eyes
a battle rages in his blood
an army marches through his bowel
the intestines become warm slowly

Go! Go! Go!
Bop bop shu bop

Nothing is for you
nothing was for you
nothing remains for you
forever

He takes the needle from the vein
the melody travels out of the skin
violins burn with shrieking
harps cut the flesh
he has opened his eyes
but he is not awake

Nothing is for you
nothing was for you
nothing remains for you
forever
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=clWpAaH0gNk
Ken Pepiton Aug 2019
genghis knew two food groups.

red and white, look it up.

Many Genghis genes remaing, tut tut tut,
no error yet, wait

in time the idea, the reason for so simple a sorting
is lost
and food laws arise to insure the purity
of progenity
"man ist vas man eats, nicht nur brot, y'kin, hear-ken"

destined to rule the world in the

here,
after all the others are killed by our wisdom and
dietary rules.

--- toxic masculinity
--- I heard first hand, a hipster-seeming voice tell me
--- Jordan Peterson is the source of the poison

Ah, am I to reply?
Am I to add a layer onto each pearl I feed the swine?

laque of knowing growing pains for what they really are,
we, the people,
blooming, bhering weight, finding worth

feeling ing ing the squeeze,
squeeze,
glory in the pain for gain, gain is good, grow, grow grow
try---umph
ic magi
bent and bowed bansai-wiseman, fed for years mere humble PIE
chanting more enthralled-folk songs
marching
words bubbling to the surface of spaceship earth,

blistering the deserts and the forests with black tar sludge
seeping from the fractures

to form mortar
to re
build the tower... that was Sad'am's idea,
it fell short in shocking offal from the rusting empir-
ical rule of laws of matter,

dis integrating to dust, leaven in the winds...

But every hundred years or so,
some one sees the problem
accused of causing the laquering of peace that seems
to be
beginning
to shine on
the rub,
the itch,

the cause celebre of this warrior mind, this
toxic
masculinity, but in the end

times change, nue and new and aljadid genii arise,

winds converge in great gyres and plan the melting of
the frozen one,

the great gyre in the north, the up-end of the spin,

locked these twelve thousand years
in de-salinated ice,

the salt squeezed from the very molecules of frozen ocean
once free

to spin
counter
clock, lock, lock the POV, see it, see it, see

the direction of the spin,
does it **** or blow?

You could know. Such things are not hidden now,

our simple sort of men have visionary tools,
eyes in the sky,

we look from the moon and see immediately,

there should be six spinners spinning currents
returning, turning turning
as winds return on their circuits on an un flat earth,

as Solomon noted in the sayings of Thoth;
so,
we see the ice, as ***** Gibson said it would be seen,

cybernetic, tic, you, tic, know, tic
what i mean
magi-
confidence in uncom-fort-ible
am-big-yous-is-us-ness

--- it was them ****** cow boys
--- imagined forever afters, based on guns for Christmas
--- appearing areal, Asreal can be, if one stared,
-- starry-eyed, Uriel appears to grant a wish, stare

staring in hope and prayer.
for all a child's prayer is worth

--- long-enough, at the wishbook from monkey ward
--- I'maxin' Please, Ma t'tell Santa I'd wear my guns t' school, Ma, I'd be cool.

hour-wareness of war;s worthlessnesses, winking eye sign;
pure floccinaucipilinihility, winks 'n' nods

manifestations of the imaginings of men,
wombed and un,

for money, not its use, just
luv o'the stuff it's made from in minds so inclined,

which tend to destruction from the mere knowledge
of a missing something, a meaning,
a hole,
a place of nada-zil-chic spells re re re main al and  
analible and
allathat, uninalienable mass of meaningful things...

name your God same as mine, shibbol-ethical as allhells-gnownstinki

fini.
eh? Fini? Uno fini, allathestinki? Bad-wind or kami-kazi?

it's a wish,
come true.
this world containing life, an air bubble to pre
vent
our inventions
from drowning in the fields of far-flung, far-fetched

god ideas gone sour,
for lack of a proper fungus. We can fix that now.

From now on,
we can listen to Lex Fridman sing "Simple Man"
from
a bubble remaining inside the lost disco years,

we can listen to Richard Feynman make plain what he meant
about life's locks all having keys in
a bubble remaining viable inside those Leave it to ****** years,

or read, since when in ever writing for ever began
and Google can translate, and
we can read by listening, now, we can read asif blind, and
see

there's more to this than that, why
settle for the simple, when

if
you step beyond, one step,
you find treasure
in truth
kept for you in the heart of your hiding child.
Aitia Macaronic Poet-try mused at a comment I heard in passin I began to imagine a toxic masculinity hiding in a child's closet waiting to take his guns to town, in 1957 the International Geo Physical Year, Hersey was researching The Child Buyer... those were times we got through
Sah ein Mädchen ein Röslein stehen
Blühte dort in lichten Höhen
Sprach sie ihren Liebsten an
ob er es ihr steigen kann

Sie will es und so ist es fein
So war es und so wird es immer sein
Sie will es und so ist es Brauch
Was sie will bekommt sie auch

Tiefe Brunnen muss man graben
wenn man klares Wasser will
Rosenrot oh Rosenrot
Tiefe Wasser sind nicht still

Der Jüngling steigt den Berg mit Qual
Die Aussicht ist ihm sehr egal
Hat das Röslein nur im Sinn
Bringt es seiner Liebsten hin

Sie will es und so ist es fein
So war es und so wird es immer sein
Sie will es und so ist es Brauch
Was sie will bekommt sie auch

Tiefe Brunnen muss man graben
wenn man klares Wasser will
Rosenrot oh Rosenrot
Tiefe Wasser sind nicht still

An seinen Stiefeln bricht ein Stein
Will nicht mehr am Felsen sein
Und ein Schrei tut jedem kund
Beide fallen in den Grund

Sie will es und so ist es fein
So war es und so wird es immer sein
Sie will es und so ist es Brauch
Was sie will bekommt sie auch

Tiefe Brunnen muss man graben
wenn man klares Wasser will
Rosenrot oh Rosenrot
Tiefe Wasser sind nicht still
--
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rhi4EMTLZ1A

Translation:
A girl saw a little rose
It bloomed there in bright heights
She asked her sweetheart
if he could fetch it for her

She wants it and that's fine
So it was and so it will always be
She wants it, so it's needed;
Whatever she wants she gets

Deep wells must be dug
if you want clear water
Rose-red, oh Rose-red
Deep waters don't run still

The boy climbs the mountain in torment
He doesn't really care about the view
Only the little rose is on his mind
to bring it to his sweetheart

She wants it and that's fine
So it was and so it will always be
She wants it and so it's needed
Whatever she wants she gets

Deep wells must be dug
if you want clear water
Rose-red, oh Rose-red
Deep waters don't run still

At his boots, a stone breaks
Doesn't want to be on the cliff anymore
And a scream lets everyone know
Both are falling to the ground

She wants it and that's fine
So it was and so it will always be
She wants it and so it's needed;
Whatever she wants she gets

Deep wells must be dug
if you want clear water
Rose-red, oh Rose-red
Deep waters don't run still
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...
-Getränkeladen: beverage store
-Apfelsaftschorle: carbonated beverage containing mineral water and apple juice
-"So wie ist das Leben" roughly means "such as life." I'm not sure if that translates well; if you happen to be proficient in German, constructive criticism on that would be appreciated. (I'm only somewhat fluent)
Mark Wanless Apr 2023
all poems have no
meaning unless you say so
die warheit ist klar
Sie ist wie mein ******;
eine schöne und schmerzliche Abhängigkeit.

Ich weiss sie ist nicht gut für mich,
aber bin ich schon zu tief.

Obwohl es wird mich umbringen,
hab ich noch Verlangen nach mehr.
I just had to get this out of my head.
Inspired by a recurring character in my dreams recently.
Written in German for fun. Here's a translation:

She is like my ******;
a beautiful and painful addiction.

I know she's no good for me,
but I'm already in too deep.

Although it will **** me,
I'm still yearning for more.
Gold May 2014
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.
I have a desire to travel to the place where you are right now and homesickness to the place in your heart.
I love the sky, and I wish I were the firmament above you, whether hidden behind clouds or adorned with stars, because then I could always see you and be with you.
However, I could never touch you, from there above.
Maybe it would be better to be the ground. You lay down in my warm grass and breathe in my scent after rain and smile. But as the ground, would you ever recognize me? And if yes, wouldn't you just look down on me?
I wouldn't survive that, we're all made from stardust, and especially equal when in love.
But when you whisper those three words in my ear or scream them in my face, than it doesn't matter anyway. Because then, everything is upside down, the sky is made of the water of the seas and I swim through clouds. I walk over feathers and the feathering of the birds is made of grass.
This is how it is, at least in my head, everytime after you roused my heart with the butterflies you set out in my stomach.
John F McCullagh Feb 2015
First we heard the distant drone
of their oncoming planes.
We raced towards the shelters
but could not out run the flames.
A package of incendiaries
Freed from a Bomb bay door
Melted Martin Luther’s
bronze statue in the mall.
The city center is ablaze;
thousands maimed or dead.
This was our first night of fear
But they would come again.




Zuerst das ferne Dröhnen hören wir
ihrer entgegenkommenden Flugzeuge.
Wir rasten in Richtung der Unterstände
konnte aber nicht aufgebraucht, die Flammen.
Ein Paket von Brandstifter
Von einer Bombe Bucht Tür befreit
Geschmolzene Martin Luthers
Bronzestatue in der Mall.
Das Stadtzentrum ist in Brand;
Tausende verstümmelt oder tot.
Dies war unsere erste Nacht der Angst
Aber sie wiederkommen würden.
February 13, 1945, the first night of the Bombing of the German city of Dresden, considered by many to \be a war crime committed by the Allies.
Genau wie Wasser
durch einen Behälter geformt ist,
sind wir so auch
durch unsere Umwelt geformt.

Wann du
nach Änderung eiferst,
flieh mal
zu einer neue Umwelt.

--

Just as Water
is shaped by a Container,
so are we
shaped by our Environment:

If ye
strive for Change,
escape
unto a new Environment.
Title: Fluids take always the form of their container, and we are fluid.
JM Jan 2013
You are not here.
I can not touch you.
I can no longer walk between
the two peonies on my way to
your porch.
The peonies are there, but it is no longer
your house.
How many times did I mow that lawn?  
Keep it tight to the tree,
round and round the peonies.
Good boy J.J.
God how I hated that nickname.

I see you now,
at your desk in the corner,
pall mall burning
in your shoe shaped ashtray,
crossword puzzle folded neatly
and your glasses half on your nose.

You were the toughest woman I know.

" Was ist los, Wer ist da?"

"It's me Gram"

I'd come around the corner and you would look at me over your glasses.
I could always tell what I was gonna get from you by the looks on your face.  
None of us have poker faces.

Even if I got the head shake of disapproval, there was always a hint of a smile, a smirk.
I know I was your favorite.
I got away with ******.
  
In your grey stuccoed rooms
I found my sexuality,
I tried to end my life,
I cried,
I ******,
I watched others battle until bloodied
and
I fought many
of my own battles
in front of your fireplace.
I saw a family blossom,
unfolding layer after layer
of beauty,
death,
secrets
and joy.

I saw strong men crumble in your dining room.

Countless were the times I would hang around on the fringes of conversations,
unobtrusive, but ever observant I was.
I learned so much from your phone calls, your conversations.

I think of when I have been the happiest
and it was when I was being tucked in by you
up in the king room.

My belly full,
freshly bathed,
the smell of avon's skin-so-soft,
clean sheets
and the softest pillows
in the world.
I was safe.
I was loved.

Waking up to
bacon and
french toast and
apple butter and
captain kangaroo and
your creaky stairs,
I have never had it as good as that.
You made the best french toast ever.

And then I got older and taller.
My marks on the measuring wall kept creeping up and up.
I got closer to
uncle mikes and
butch and...
was big jim on there?

I grew into a ****** little teenager,
I went from asking you for candy money,
to concert tshirt money
to bail money.
Through it all, you were there for me.
I would show up,
head down and repentant,
ready for my berating.
I wonder how different my life would have been had you not been around
as long as you were?

That day when my dad
came and took me
when I didn't want to go,
I kept looking back
and crying for you,
You said it always broke your heart, that look.

That was my introduction to manipulation.

It was in your basement
I found the steaming remains of debauchery.
I met most of my demons
for the first time
in the shadows
of the mighty sycamores
on Lincoln Boulevard.

You are not here.
I can not touch you.
You died and we fell apart, all of us.
We barely hang on,
it seems.
Your children squabble and flounder still.
Alliances formed
and broken
and rediscovered again.
Silly, this constant ebb and flow of intimacy.
Blood is thick, right?

We are doing ok though, I promise.
You would be so proud of us, I swear.

Our kids are happy
and we teach them words
like deetdeedles and shoisel.
I still make french toast your way
and Anne's house has the measuring wall.

I still do crosswords,
I love words, because of you.
I write, I  live, thanks to you.

The willow tree is gone
but the peonies are still there.

Ich leibe dich, Gramma.
Johanna Khan May 2013
Mit jeder Träne die fällt
Werden meine Gedanken klarer
Mit jeder Träne die fällt
Zerplatzt ein neuer Traum
Mit jeder Träne die fällt
Zerbricht mein Herz in neue Stücke

Dein Anruf hat mein Herz zum Rasen gebracht
Ich konnte nicht aufhören zu lächeln
Die Zukunft war eine Traumwelt
Du und ich und unsere Träume in ihr vereint
Gedanken an dich haben meine Tage verschönert
Gedanken an deine Stimme
Gedanken an deine Augen
Gedanken an deine Umarmungen
Gedanken die mich lächeln ließen
Und mir jetzt das Blut in den Adern gefrieren lassen

Mit jeder Träne die fällt
Werden meine Gedanken klarer
Mit jeder Träne die fällt
Zerplatzt ein neuer Traum
Mit jeder Träne die fällt
Zerbricht mein Herz in neue Stücke

'Take care' waren meine letzten Worte an dich
Die Antwort von dir - nur ein Lächeln
Dein letztes Lächeln für mich
Ist im Nachhinein auch mein letztes Lächeln gewesen
Nun flüstere ich jeden Abend mit dem Mond
Doch mein 'I miss you' wird dich nicht erreichen
Denn dein Mond ist jetzt ein anderer
Du hättest dieses eine Mal auf mich hören sollen!
It was a starry night,

I remember the moon was bright.

As I sat in my canopied room

Atop the inn of gloom,

Its musty stench of walls and flesh,

Surrounded by dim light and floors below, strewn

-

At first I was anxious and nervous

About the spectre’s appearance

But something in his presence was calming

Curious as it was, I was longing.

-

He was not ghostly in the way you would think

He was as real looking, enough to drink,

Though it was something in his air and aura

That told me his demise like Gomorrah,

And how he was perished and dead,

And with these rotting words he said

-

“Gaze upon me and listen well,

For your silence I wish you not quell,

My words you will not stir,

You will absorb and then, good sir,

I will reappear as those who’ve been

You yourself and died again,

You are the last and only one,

Upon earth to know this secret done,

You will understand this true confusion

And soon be rid of your delusion.

But I warn there is a painful price,

In cherished aforementioned gift so nice

Of that you will find soon

And your burning soul will croon.

-

My name is High Lord Kellik,

And my touch you’ve already met.

You’ve felt me here before,

I walk with you, ancestor, but more.

I am the first of you in this lone world,

I suffered what once was unfurled.

-

Now know our cryptic secret revealed

Of the same bloodline congealed:

To all of us who are one,

This life is not your only one.

-

I’ve risen again from fallen,

I was in Jerusalem

When my Lord he calleth,

God chose not to follow them.

I was of the Tuetonics,

Though my death was quite ironic,

For they had me drawn for heresy

And quartered for allegedly

Stealing an Arab’s maidenhead

Even though my wife was pregnant then,”

(At this sentence, twas there I noticed,

The chainmail and a cross of lotus,

Betwixt his breast and penance

He seemed holy, even justice.)

“I loved my wife from first gaze through labor,

Twas the last I saw of her, I savored

The love in her eyes when I lost her.

All I wanted was to adore her.

They led me into ‘court’ they said,

Twas to be my own deathbed,

And when they called out all my sins,

Of course I denied, being pious within,

Although my truth they would not have,

I again suffered my brother’s terrible wrath.”

-

I spoke my first words, shaking, unstable,

Asking questions gated in stables,

“Sir, I know my silence is needed,

But I request some answers conceded,

Why did they not trust your pure enough claims,

Brothers, as you said, seeking no gain?”

-

Spake he “I understand your logic,

Twas mine although my brothers were stoic,

You see, it is the terrible price

That I spoke earlier, a wretched vice,

To know the things that we will tell,

You must know the darkest hell,

You must know that you will die

A most gruesome death without comply,

Because we are one, it must happen and then,

You’re born the same, to die again.”

-

I sat silent for a moment and pondered,

I thought of a tree that aimlessly wonders,

About its life serving no purpose,

To grow leaves and die, its only service,

It seemed of me, so pessimistic

To know this life is quite solipsistic.

-

He continued,

-

“Know that I had the easiest death,

The first brother-blade did pierce my chest,

It struck my heart, and I must make amends,

That is why none of us will find love again.

-

I was of the knights most valiant,

My fervor was the most resilient,

Whatever we may ever be,

It is irrelevant, you’ll die like me.”

-

Shocked, I sat in euilibrium,

You’d think it peaceful

But my world was undone,

It forever changed that starry night,

And was only the beginning of my hellish fright.

-

Lord Kellik departed there through my door,

I heard no steps upon the floor,

I thought it odd for plate boots to make,

No sounds on oaken plates of estate…

-

Soon my door was reopened again,

I looked up and gazed at him,

At me, twas now I started to see,

Resemblance in us, for no helmet he wore,

But rather a coat of a Hessian he bore,

He masked the same look I see on myself,

When I’ve been through darkness, my own hell,

The blue eyes like mine, were mine, and hair,

Dark brown, and had a piercing stare,

German accent had he upon conversing,

“Wie gehts? Ich heisse Kryztoff von Gersching,”

“Hallo Kryztoff, mein namme ist Andrew Marheine.”

-

“There is great hate between two factions,

Two worlds, once one, under taken action,

The English came and fought and tried,

The way Americans denied

The rights of those that were first here,

I was hired to broaden their fear.”

-

Surprised at his English,

I also switched,

“Sir, I noticed that your neck is stitched…?”

-

“A wound from battle, the only lucky

Thing that ever happened to me,

But knowing what I do know now,

I would pick severed jugular to doubt.

My unit was captured by a group of guerrilla yanks,

They slaughtered us each unless we joined their ranks,

In this massacre there was no honor,

In sending home bodies, lost sons and fathers,

I steadily refused to be a part,

So they began tearing me apart

Until they then realized

I would gladly be crucified,

That just for that, that I despised,

Each one of them for their “freedom” lies,

Their General King, although respected,

Washington should not have defected.

You see now where democracy has led,

The better off, are the lucky dead.

I see you ask of what I died?

Of what brought about a Hessian’s demise?

The gutless ******* shot me with small cannon

Direct in my stomach, you cannot fathom,

The amount of pain in three long hours…

I wished for death, but not from cowards.”

-

He was proud looking, but not Narcissus,

Battle worn, and quite seditious.

I noticed his sword, the handle notched,

For every inch of life he’d squashed

Like a child’s boot to an ant hill.

This man died alone and still.

-

He spoke once more

-

“You have been blessed with knowledge and wrought,

You though will be turned to naught,

The pain you’ll be in, too much to endure,

Your arteries pumping blood to the floor,

We know not how you will die,

But painful be it, no chance to survive.

Because, like us, you have no one here,

Like us, not missed, no tragic dear,

Your name be forgotten until

The next of us lives to see us fill.”

-

He exited without another word,

I found it quaint, unlike the herd,

I strove to be different, I suspect I’ve succeeded,

After all, who knew their death, and believed it?

-

Wondering if I would again be visited

Or if my passed lives were but two limited,

I also thought of how they appeared…

I could not recall how the first had veered,

Or why they ventured to me and told

Me of their stories that would make hearts cold

Stuck with this thought, another come forth,

From my wooden frame of door,

His brilliant armor, black with silver,

Across his back, a sheathe and quiver,

He looked at me, and I again saw myself,

And again saw another me been felled,

“Hello,” I said “won’t you come in?”

“Obliged,” spake he “see what lies therein.

-

He began,

-

“Young man, you know not missing your home,

But I come from the brightest years of Rome,

Although I knew only Coliseum

I hoped my soul be with Ellysium,

I was a slave in the rich man’s bloodsport,

And the crowd, they cheered for more and more,

To live every day knowing you must fight,

Can bring great depression to one’s very life,

Caesar said I could in time be free,

I fell my last fight, suffering,

The anguish that flowed through me at then,

Was not of physical harm, but when,

My bowels were visible on the ground,

All I could feel was loss never found,

I swore allegiance to men never met,

And all it brought was discontent.

Never think twice about an act,

It could save your life until this pact,

Although you will die, nameless forever,

Know that even the smallest endeavor,

Will not change this predestination,

This marvelous melancholy is Hades’ invention,

We will not wake until we’ve slept,

The eternal slumber, and mourner’s have wept,

About a loss that is so profound,

Until they forget why the feelings endowed,

Are the enemy to their own happiness,

They then know not of what ‘revolting’ is.”

-

This nameless man stood up and gazed,

Outside of my withered window pane,

His eyes lightened and looked ever broken,

And I could see a man who’s life and freedom were stolen,

If ever I had wanted to cry in confrontation

It would’ve been at his lamentation,

But I bit my tongue and held back from that,

Although he noticed with eyes like a cat,

He smiled at me, I smiled at me,

And it was then that he began to proceed,

Out of my door, and out of my eyes,

I thought about my ending surprise.

I now knew death was not to be,

An old man while I was in my sleep,

But rather a darker, gruesome end,

Perhaps lacerations from within,

And as this trickled across my brain,

I could swear to God I went insane,

I sat in my room for weeks despaired,

Tasting nothing except the stale air,

and then one day it finally clicked,

That life is what it is, a foul ******* trick.
Dark, Melancholy, Macabre
Du gabst ihr dein Herz, doch sie gab dir Ihres nicht. Also gab ich dir meins, doch du hattest keins für mich. Jetzt hast du mein Herz und in mir ist ein dunkles klaffendes Loch.
I'm still not over you.
Edna Sweetlove Aug 2015
A bilingual "Barry Hodges" poem!

Ah, beloved Dachau!
Thou delightful Bavarian city of charm,
History has made thy name immortal
Yet cruel warfare has passed you by.
Thank God thy medieval streets and squares
Remain untouched by high explosives.

I took a lovely young maid there
For a weekend of rampant love,
But, after an immense meal of pork chops,
Sauerkraut, Blutwurst and Bratkartoffeln,
Her stomach exploded like a grenade
And her gorgeous body was ruined.

How cruel is life in our modern world!
As I sat weeping in the Pension Eichmann,
Looking through the contents of her wallet,
I decided to pay her a fitting tribute
By buying a night with the fat chambermaid,
Who swore she was you-know-who's ******* great-granddaughter.

O great joy, she said, since it was the low season in Dachau,
We would be joined by her bony bulimic friend Angelika
(Himmler's great-niece), two mouthfuls for the price of one,
Thanks be to God, it was the just right time of the month
For such a cosy little *******, because although I love raw meat
I am less keen on it being oozing blood, so ******* vampires.

And now for the German version!*

Ach, geliebte Dachau!
Du schöne bayerische Stadt mit Charme,
Die Geschichte hat deinen Namen unsterblich gemacht
Unt grausame Kriegsführung hat umgangen werden Sie.
Gott sei Dank, dein mittelalterlichen Straßen und Plätzen
unberührt von hochexplosiven Sprengstoffen zu bleiben.

Ich lockte ein schönes junges Mädchen dort
Für ein Wochenende der grassierenden Liebe,
Aber nach einer gigantische Mahlzeit von Schweinekoteletts,
Sauerkraut, Blutwurst und Bratkartoffeln,
Ihr Bauch explodierte wie eine Granate
Und ihre wunderschönen Körper ruiniert war!

Wie unfreundlich ist das Leben in unserer modernen Welt!
Wie ich in der Pension Eichmann weinend saß,
Beim Blick durch den Inhalt ihrer Geldbörse,
Ich entschloss mich, ihr ein passender Tribut machen
Mit dem Kauf einer Nacht mit dem großen Zimmermädchen -
Sie hat geschworen, war der illegitime Ur-Enkelin des Eichmann.

O große Freude, sagte sie. In der Nebensaison Dachau,
Wir würden uns von ihrer Freundin Angelika (Himmlers Großnichte),
Verbunden werden, zwei Bissen für den Preis von einem,
Gott sei Dank, war es die richtigen Tage im Monat
Für solch einen gemütlichen kleinen Orgie, denn obwohl ich liebe Fleisch
Ich bin weniger daran interessiert, wenn es Blut sickert. Vampire raus!
PSA
In eine laufende Mühe mein Deutsch zu üben und verbessern,
werde ich hierauf auf Deutsch mehr schreiben.
Normalerweise werde ich versuchen Übersetzungen hinzufügen,
aber werde das natürlich nicht immer das Fall sein. ;)
-
Wenn du Deutsch kennst, sollst du bitte mir helfen, mein Deutsch zu verbessern.
Es ist nicht leicht auf eine fremde Sprache zu schreiben, geschweige gut.
Geschweige wann es von so viele Leute so öffentlich kritisiert sein kann.
In an ongoing effort to practice and improve my German,
I will be writing in German more on here.
Normally I will try to include translations,
but naturally that won't always be the case. ;)
-
If you know German, you should please help me to improve my German.
It is not easy to write in another language, let alone well.
let alone when it can be so openly criticized by so many people.
Mike Essig Aug 2016
Es ist in der Selbstbeschränkung,
     die ein Meister zunächst selbst zeigt.*
         - Goethe
We are,
by definition,
our limitations,
especially
those we choose.

They trace
the borders
of our being,
create our
distinctive,
singular
humanity.

Lines we cross
at great peril.
lost thoughts Dec 2014
sitzt neben
für dich
ist wie
ein kleiner schluck
Ewigkeit, die Sonne,
die Sterne,
der Himmel,
nie probiert
so gut.
sitting next to
to you
is like
a sip
Eternity, the sun,
the stars,
the sky,
never tried
so good.


this is what the poem says.
Poetic T Jan 2016
Its that time once a year when hearts
Beating upon words of love. But thoughts
Were thinking of the latter how to make
Beats
        Rhythm
                    Love
To cease with but a gesture a whim.
A heart did whisper on the chest but
Never did it utter the word  that spelt
Least
         Of
                 Valued
                              Emotions
It wasn't in my being I was a void shell.
But other were teaming with it like a flower
They sent the scent of bitter aroma into the air.

And it made my eyes bleed tears. So I thought
Of culling these tears falling on this day. I held
Them couples no singles were aloud in here.

I drew a heart on their chest, A+ in creative design
Cant let all those hours go to waste.

…....lovelovelo…
..lovelovelove….
...lovelovelovelove……………….….
...lovelovelovelovelo…………..lovel….
.....lovelovelovelovelove…….…lovelovelo.
.. lovel |OOOOO|velove…|OOOOO|.
.
..lovelo\OO/lovelovelo…..…lov\OO/elo…
..
…lovelovelovelovelove..…lovelovelo…
….lovelovelolovelovelovelovelovelo…
…..….lovelo\OOlovelovelOOO/elovelov…
……..….lovelo\OOveloOO/lovelo…
………..….lovelov\OO/ovelove…
………………lovelovelo….
………………..lovelo…
……………………..
…………………....

That word was scribbled till it lost ist meaning in
Mumbled scribbles, I even put OO,s in the shape
Of two eyes and a smile. I know immature, so **** me.

They were scared I could see it in their eyes, I never
Pick those of no vows, they must be saturated in the
Meaning so bands of eternity are a must.
Gold
      Silver
             Platinum
Worthless to me but in a jar they sit gathering dust,

"I have been at this a while,
"Since the age of??  "10,
"My mum and dad were my first,
"Never showed me love the opposite trust me,

I separate them ever so slightly so their finger tips
Can reach out, its kind of teasing while out cold I
Measure the distance and move accordingly its a must.

Wake up rise and shine, they gauge their surroundings
Then the muffled screams,

"Jesus you could write a book on the reactions of this,
"I have it will be I have self published on amadon,
"Still waiting for the proof reading to come back,

They see each other than the finger reaching begins,
Clinical to the moment then the muffled threats.
They look down and see the picture on their chests.

"Love you tender, love you sweet,
"Its that time of year when feelings cut into me,
"Say hello to my little friend, he helps cut it out,

I always liked singing that little piece, then the screams
So coordinated. Its like a script of a movie,  a B movie
Hahaha... "Sorry that was a bit uncalled for, hehehe...

Now who's going first? its always manners to ask this not to
Just cut and run. They look bewildered in confused thought,
But as manners dictate ladies first, and then with out further adieu.

The breast is such a pain but after trial and error mostly error.
What a mess the first few times, but now its almost surgical.
To the hilt the knife slices across picture then silence.

He squirms like a rabid animal, but I silence him with a gesture.
Now two hearts that yearned each other, now silently static.
I stare at them, and gentle slice the picture from their being.

This room it has one chair, white and bold. On the wall sits
Frames of all the love that ceased, their heart ache lives
On hanging with pride in white frames upon my wall.

— The End —