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Corina Dec 2015
Doe je zorgen weg
er is genoeg wind
blaas ze weg
en vergeet ze

Haal die last
van je schouders
en voel weer
*** licht het is

*** licht je bent
als je alleen jezelf
nog maar dragen moet
Vederlicht
AW Oct 2014
De zon gaat langzaam onder
En zakt weg in de oceaan
Hier aan de rand van de wereld
Voelt alles zwaarder aan

Of ik nu fluister, bid of schreeuw
Alleen is hier pas echt alleen
De leegte van de horizon,
Slechts de golven om me heen

Ik weet niet waar het water stopt
En waar de lucht begint
De kleuren smelten samen
Mijn blik wazig in de wind

En met de zon daalt het besef
Het leven is als een oceaan
Golven en storm zijn relatief
Als je op het strand blijft staan

Ik weet niet waar het heden stopt
En de toekomst beginnen gaat
Zelfs als alles anders wordt
Is dat vaak te weinig, te laat

Maar als de zon haar licht onttrekt
Aan de branding van mijn bestaan
Verlicht ineens van achter mij
Het schijnsel van de maan

Zo leert een lege horizon dat
De hemel de verste zee verlicht
Zelfs in het donker van de nacht
Biedt U mij helder zicht
Inspired by Psalm 139:7-10
Marie Nov 2020
Ich zünde für dein Wohlergehn,
das Licht der Liebe an
Mit deinem Herzen wirst du sehn
wie hell es leuchten kann

Es dringt durch alle Poren
bis in die letzte Zelle
Du bist wie neu geboren
durch diese Lichterquelle

Mit unverzagtem Mut
und unbeugsamer Kraft
steigst du aus dieser Glut
voll purem Lebenssaft

Streckst deine Flügel aus
und schüttelst alle Sorgen
ins Dunkel weit hinaus
fühlst dich im Licht geborgen
Es wird dich immer schützen
vor großer Not und Pein
oder
zumindest stützen
sollt’s doch mal anders sein
Daan May 2020
Wat zou me dan bedreigen?
Als ik nu eens echt zou doen
wat ik al jaren wil,
wat zou mij klein proberen krijgen?

Is het mijn alomoude omgeving?
Is het iets nieuws, een dodelijk gevaar,
een tsunami of een aardbeving?
Wat is hetgeen waarover ik mij zorgen baar?

Is het het onbekende, of vreemdelingen
op de lijn, mensen die valse liedjes zingen,
of toekomstige herinneringen vol met pijn?

Wat doet mij het meest verdriet?
Ik denk die momenten, 's avonds laat, in bed,
wanneer niemand me ziet en ik mijn negatief
denken niet krijg afgezet.

Misschien vind ik erdoor geen werk,
of schiet iemand een kogel door mijn kerk.
Misschien verlies ik mensen dicht,
misschien gaat mijn zon dan onder
en zie ik nooit meer licht.

Het weegt, het is een overdrijving,
te dramatische beschrijving
van een zelfingenomen lul.
Het is zo arrogant om die dingen al te zeggen,
je bent nog nergens dan is die angst toch flauwe kul.

Je staat aan het begin en hebt nog overal gezicht.
Waarom heb je nu al schrik
voor later nooit meer licht?
Tijd voor reflectie en een herevaluatie van prioriteiten.
Mateuš Conrad Oct 2016
to me, the Cartesian saying had to be relegated to shrapnel,
i treat the cogito
                                           ergo                       sum
like i'd treat atoms, brushing and
signaturing each other with
a stabilised unification
under the name: helium, or hydrogen.
evidently that's also a term
for three dimensional space
and the cohorts of chaos that come
from it.
           but something worries me,
intrinsically it's what i would simply
term: the automation of thinking.
basically? it's blood hard to stop thinking,
to do yoga to intricate being
in nothingness,
    as Heidegger suggested:
non-being is a tier below nothing,
      and i guess automated thinking
comes from non-being,
because there's this intrinsic manifestation
of instinct found in all sport activities
that doesn't allow thinking to take place,
no footballer thinks about his exertion
on the football pitch, no golfer maps
out a system of thought to *** the hole
in one...
                some would even say
that thinking is a form of laziness,
          i find that the whole notions turns
out to be a **** up affair of concern,
the mere notion that thought is automated
    and cannot be barricaded against
its relentless battering our very being
is due to the fact that so many of us
do not attain the all that glitters is gold
particularity of fame...
             it's not that we are doubtful,
but that we are mindful / thoughtful,
a few of us make it to the top of the sardine
can, but so many of us are minding
our own business on this placebo earthenware:
yes, i call this a placebo urn of things
needed (people always rave about nouns
anyway, call it slang, or whatever,
it trends, hashtags and the outdated
forms of phone numbers - calling big brother
eeny, meeny, miny, moe) - i could
swear it's so, but then again, maybe not so.
still (what a crass digression),
coming back to the Cartesian shrapnel...
           basing in on weights and measures -
it's so tiny, that expression,
                      we can think the realistic
and only express a centimetre of the world,
we can be the realistic and only
express a centimetre of the world,
  and then we can think the illusionary
and express a mile of the world,
        and we can be the illusionary and express
   a kilometre of the world:
toward the basis of fame and contentment of
  the shadows...
       yes, we have achieved a "death" of history,
by simply stating our recreational pursuits
being more important than our
need for historical eventuality and crisis, and change...
we have stated a "death" of history
via our population size, our ability to combat
diseases (whether infantile or of a certain maturity),
yes, we have established a congested world,
which facilitates nothing quite like a herd
(cattle mentality): hence the modern concern
for alienation... we're created a collective manifestation
of insects, or as one might suggest
  this is yet another geocentric and heliocentric
concern for us... although relegated to
egocentric and the collective ethos of comrades -
but given the former has been eradicated
as it was previous known: communism -
      in economic vocabulary it's all but gone,
but still exists in the sports: yet again,
the re-surfacing of abolishing automated thinking,
namely, automated collision with the daily
activity - either competitive or mundane,
    as we all soon realised: if automated thinking
is not eradicated by automated doing
     we end up mentally distraught -
our own thinking alienates us and even progresses
to symptoms that have no viability
       concerning a drowning man, nonetheless
we're actually drowning.
i can hardly think that nothing is an abyss -
       to me thought is an abyss (cat meows,
i write, the fermentation of wine goes on in
four jars to my left, bob, pop, bob, pop,
and daniel licht is playing to the fatty *****
that's my brain) -
                     i knew that ponderings ii - vi
would get my creative juices flowing:
finally! a book on philosophy that i can comprehend
within that bilingual complex i've established!
or: this much can be said upon
giving a supermarket cashier a signed copy of
my actually printed works
     and hearing a compliment with eyes
waxed with glee (Tarah);
           now i have 100 copies to push,
become akin to a drug dealer with poetry,
           and that's not going to be easy
without p.r. and all that jingly marketing qualms.
still, what's there to be done
        if not that there is something to be done,
even if it's nothing, or a pebble on a mountain:
which is why there is so much
   potential in individuality, but also so much
angst - instead of doing crosswords we have
other riddles to be bothersome about,
   but so few even get a ?         to be concerned with.
again the Cartesian shrapnel equation,
              so much is staged on it in terms
of how thinking becomes automated, robotic
to the point of making children succumb to
    premature depression -
      back when premature dementia was the hit
on Broadway or in an Estonian lunatic asylum
in the 19th century,
when we first received our psychiatric vocabulary,
now it's the young who are odd
   and it is premature depression,
          a bit like the black plague, against
all hopes, a single identifiable folly.
             and where the best rewards?
solitude, where else?
                          for all that swindling of the talk of species
and competition within / without,
        always one ******* says:
                           i am the zeitgeist - always one:
are there really benefits to realising that
****** equation? are there? to feel alive, to feel
conscious, or the madness of Nietzsche's reversal
stating that he's a thing that simply, exfoliates
necessary thought?
           thought is primarily a moral ought -
the should i or shouldn't i?
        it's intrinsic, inherent and simply: just there...
or in the unlikely event, a step into the abyss
   and subsequent pathologies of the enabling of
   a destruction of the soul: as manifestation
of a transgressively transcendent embodiment
of pure body.
                 so, against all duality, i simply fathom
that ****** thing as shrapnel,
     curiously via (as i already might have said):
so much thinking doesn't precipitate into being,
     and so much being doesn't precipitate into thinking -
or of those who adorn mental silk fabrics and Solomon rings,
         and those who have to pay for elocution
lessons due to their ****** endeavours -
      yet again, alignment with Thesaurus Rex,
cue: down Synonymous Avenue
                     because how many times are we sharpening
our narrative trying to feels less inclined
                 to exfoliate in the exotica of what's
the necessary verbiage, and escape into single
identifiable meanings, without poker, without politics,
without sexualised ambiguity?
for me language should work, not be desecrated
to fun: it, should, work;
                     or here i rest my ambitions,
without any poetic dogma - or to make poetry unrecognisable
when stated, for no reason to discredit
   the systematics of poetry: but for reason
                        Kraken wrangler on language -
as much as Nietzsche might have said about
      philosophical systems and their errors and lack of
honesty: i say as much about poetry careful to
be identified as such: metaphors, imagery blah blah -
all things that make people conscious of what
they're reading is actually what they're reading and say
it's poetry - as i said to the supermarket cashier:
enso (Japanese,
marcon purposively missing) - to write while standing up,
and so the reader is standing up,
         not a novel you take to bed,
                     and read for months on end,
dozing off, or sneering at "uneducated" people
on the train...
                         i might as well be writing instruction
manuals for the sadistic training of ballerinas -
              one cut, one incision, and get the **** out;
or at least that's the idea -
      learn to spell, work on punctuation variations,
    learn to tie your shoelaces... and don't believe in
the word edit.
Hermes Varini Feb 2022
Wlf
Hwenne, och! slawlie IT, an’ unco Licht!
Afoyr th' wounded frae Lyife Ghaist-Ancestors,
At Calanais Stane Sirkill Auld, an’ Verra IT, Micht!
Wae th' Lost ay! o'er Deep Tyme Unforgivin’,
Hidden Bleezan ay, Sacrificial Rite at Myrk Nicht!
Th' Stowed Oot Moon Conquerin’ rayses IT, tae mee!
Amydde Thae Verra Bluish, cannae nowe ye a' see?
Cauld Cluds ay flashin', an' Verra Thay A' Hye!
Ainlie, ainlie Raw Rid Bridie sloch Ah!

NVNC RVBRA CLARO FVLMINE REFVLGENS LVNA
QVIA REDACTA EST AD FVLGOREM RES RVBRA
TOTALITER INTRA SACRVM CIRCVLVS VICTRIX MIHI
VBI REX INVICTVS AC MAXIME VLTOR OVERMAN
RVBRO LAPIDI CVM MAGNO NECNON PHANTASMATE
ALTA HIC FLAMMA POTENTER ADVENIT RVBRA.
A composition of mine in archaic Scottish as flowing into classical Latin, and as associated with the full moon as seen at the Callanish cromlech ("INTRA SACRVM CIRCVLVS"). “Wlf” is an archaic Scottish variant for “wolf”, whose character as thus naturally consistent with the presence of the full moon ("LVNA"), still unfathomable and intact, as a sheer phenomenon. "POTENTER" (adverb) reads "in a powerful manner". “Ah” stands for “I”.
Samira Meroe Jul 2010
das helle Licht,
der nahe Sommer
die zarte Fröhlichkeit
blühender ******
das schmeichelnde Lächeln
meiner Wut
die monotone Stille,
der Sehnsucht Glut

zu dir
ich liege
ich stocke
ich stolpere
du sehnst
du redest
du willst
zu mir


das helle Sein,
meiner vollen Seele
deine nahe Stimme
deine Gedanken und Pläne
durch das verstaubte Fenster
hellgrüne, verwirrte Blätter ranken
Licht fällt gebrochen auf meine Hand
du bist so fern, ich sehe dich nicht
wie Gedanken versanken
auf Blättern auf Wiesen
in Wörtern und Träumen

was für ein schlimmes Gedicht
Alan McClure Apr 2011
Cauld-bluided, humphing ower the stark grey hills
Gowd een skinkle to an fro
Split tongue lappin at the wind-blown smells
Bog grass blackens whaur ye go
Smoke split shielings and the clammerin o bairns
Bone cracked mithers in yer wake
Heirt-scaud ruin fae the valleys tae the cairns
Driven by a drouth ye canny slake
Crib tale shapit unner creakin heather thatch
Howf born craitur o the nicht
Auld sangs spake aboot the maidens ye would ******
Fleggit bairns tae keep intil the licht
True? Naw, havers, juist the blaflum o wives
God nivver biggit ocht sae fell
But ae bairn crouchin in the ruins o its life
Can think o naethin else the tale tae tell
Blin, lost, forwandert fae the shattered faimly hame
Warslin wi fear tae unnerstan
White winds whistle as he gies the beast a name
And dragons whiles can take the form o man.
Mateuš Conrad Apr 2019
there was a period in time,
when i focused on two words:
and made them relevant punching
bags...
using the definite article i called
them:
   the reflexive         /      the reflective...
strange "dichotomy" pivot to
conceive...
   but i managed...
        philosophy perhaps begins
with awe... but it sure as **** ends with
a vocab. fixation, vocab. being
the foundation...
  the reflexive / the reflective belong
to a quadratic foundation,
two words are missing...

       favorite gig? tool, glasgow...
could have been wolfmother in edinburgh...
but, see...
  tool, glasgow...
a german girl...
  she was thirsty, the maggot pit
was getting crowded...
plastic cups of water were being
passed...
   there was the crushing sensation...
of beta males...
i gave her some water
from the passed plastic cups...
i drank some myself,
i passed the cup behind me...
after a while we started mingling:
i.e. kissing...
         never miss an australian curly
haired afro from australia in
edinburgh: if you can help yourself...

after the gig she just stood there
like a mute madonna
waiting for me pick her up...
did i?
       the *** would have probably
been great... but the kiss...
in the moment?
   that's what kept the memory
alive...
       again...
there was a time when i:
why isn't squash an olympic sport...
why does baseball,
rugby... have precursor justification
of olympic sports status
over squash?
   i liked playing squash...
  fun sport...
               all you need is a cube canvas...
i still remember warming up
the rubber ball, till it became soft,
before you could play a game...
   managing hyper-geometry
while smashing the ball against
the side-walls...
     god... so much more fun worth
of a game compared to tennis...
it's... radical!                      3D!

so came the reflexive "contra" the reflective...
a case closure of:
react to it immediately (reflexive),
or?
   react to it by stalling, allowing the ontology
of man to "pleasure" of thinking:
i know that thought is regularly dissociated
from ontology,
gimp-strapped to pure empiricism:
no god: immediate reaction...
    with not god: all you can "eat" /
spreschen dynamics...
       if god doesn't exist...
speak whatever you want,
as much as you want...
     but, to me? god is the source
of thought... hard to find a thinking man
in a godless society...
thinking goes out of the "window"
including "a" god... or: the plural
variation of splintered ambitions,
ambitions and authority...

    mit meine liebhaber wie die
mund: ich leben alles dinge,
              drapiert in quecksilber,
   durch die licht sie umhüllt...

    i already had a narrative...
well that's lost... but with my love for
for the deutzschezunge:
   nein engländer kam
mein weg...
           außer etwas blöd
                    amerikanisch...
    geschätzt sack nase in überall...

deutsche: nutzen englischgrammatik...
   "hoppla"!
             ficker besser sprint!
              
   the quadratic still remains...
reflexive (oh oh, it begins....)
             readings books is a "b'ah b'ah"
sheepish: b'ah b'ah bad "thing"...
less worth of stutter...
safe compounds of the rich....
looking in, aren't you the lucky ones?
i guess you are...

             but then again: i guess
you're not part of the garden state
project... ******* fannies...
***** go ****?!
      **** offs....

   heideggeer...
                qabbalah...
                         20th century peoples,
associated with the reflexive
sentiment(s)...
             imitation...
what is imitation when lacking
intimidation?
                  ah....
the reflexive "aspect" is stimulation...
can't exactly stimulate upon
a "gratification" of: the algebra of x...

we live in times of contra-stimulation...
simulation prone...
when "once upon a time"
the reflexive,
  when "once upon a time"
the reflective....
when thinking was allowed...
and god was disavowed...

what thinking?!
              there's as much of god in
the "discussion" as there's thought...
atheism gave birth to the sophists...
    what would the rekindled
variation of the belief in the gods
revel in, sophistry contra solipsism?
bate nook and a boredom
affair of atheism...

              the reflexive: imitation /
intimidation... stimulation...
             the reflective: imagining /
         coerce...
                simulation...

these days people are not exactly
prone to 19th century into 20th century
translations of stimulation...
   stimulation: being a reflexive term...
these days?
   people are more prone to
the simulation, a: "reflective" term...
it doesn't have to be real to be "real"...
     people reject the "concept"
of reality like might react
to antibiotics...
   not exactly clarity borne...
       once upon a time...
  people were reflexive: stimulated...
these days?
people are reflective: simulated...
  and in the latter sense?
hardly... ever willing to be responsive...
  the crisis in england...
super-bugs... the antithesis of
antibiotics...

    hence? the missing T...
           reflexive "vs." reflective...
  stimulated "vs." simulated...
such puny thesaurus differences...

so now everything in  the deutsche
ist ****-isch?
             wow! wunderbar!
   mögen sie mögen mir!
        englischsprechendwelt vereinen!

    spät kommen

how many people can associate
this observation into their daily diet,
of the fact that
clenching your teeth,
relaxes your eyebrows,
                  from frowning?

maybe that rammstein song:
rosenrot,
     about paedophilia?
                       if you're 18,
and she's 14, and you're
                 dating her older sister your age,
but then: love at first sight
suffocates you...
    you're almost 33,
she's in her 20s...
             you kept that whole
"love at first sight" *******...
   came the weimar, berliner gay
troops...
      with their
regenbogenvorhang,
anti:
             starr,
anti:
                     streng
anti:
                 eisen, bügeln...

        kommt der zeppeline!
how many definite articles
does german please
allow to clarify? die contra der?
yes? well... that's a...
    lohnend anfang...

kommen sie,
   ich werden einst mehr....

how many people can associate
this observation into their daily diet,
of the fact that
clenching your teeth,
relaxes your eyebrows,
                  from frowning?

see... i have a fetish for german...
this english: a little bit of something,
"that", "other", "******"?
well... whatever frees me from
russian...
    i'll clearly succomb to speak
this language,
top escape the russians...
but, i just have to....
          schleppen diese deutschzunge;
ich unterlassen sie
                         mögen es...
i just became aware of the polacks...
favouring loan-words from
neighbouring canons of tongue...
i figured: the rest is history...
  to have to despair over
a sense of continuinity...
within the confines
of a biological reality,
when biological reality is currently
being undermined?
really?!
     i'm supposed to give a ****,
about that sort of *******?!
how about:
an idea transcends the confines
of biology,
what if the kantian
categorical imperative
also implies....
transcending ***,
the casual act of ***,
    the anti-darwinian aspect
of ***: *** for pleasure,
recreation, *******,
and not the origin impetus...
             what is the categorical
"imperative" of ***,
these days?
                      i'm the one who's
"****** up"?
        what about referencing cats...
reptiles in a mammalian disguise?
to bypass the misnomer...
to call red, red,
to call banana yellow,
   to call it: no black swan...
to call...
  how would one attempt
transcendence
of the categorical imperative?
misnomer, purposive,
or non-purposive,
loosely associated
with poetic freedoms to
"misnomer" /
   not address expression
of jurisprudnece,
too closely associated with
juggling a thesaurus...
                                       what now?
                  
    ich haben gelernt ihre englisch,
  jetzt ich suchen für eine flucht!
wenn nein an land,
      bei zuletzt: im mein kopf.

the ship is sinking,
the rats are bailing out first.
Johnny Noiπ Jan 2019
Viva's Saber (in Spanish: L Awaller)                                                   [1...]
In 1798,                                                 the Spanish artist Francisco Goya
drowned in a canal.                             Today it takes place in the Lazaros
Museum in Galadiano, Madrid.
It was purchased in 1798 with five other paintings
relating to the wise duke and Osvan. [2...]   ||      Viva Sabers (Spanish: L Awaller) [1 ...]
                                                 In 1798, the Spanish artist Francisco Goya.
                            Drowned in a channel that today takes place in Lazaros.
Galadiano Museum, Madrid.
It was bought in 1798 with five other paintings.
Connected to duo knowingly and with Osvan. [2 ...]
Due to the capture of secret images,                the duchess was responsible
                     only      for the duchess, but she did not know
                    if it was finished or not.
[2b] In the twentieth century, painting.
It was bought by businessman José Lázaro Galdiano,
And his death was transferred to the state of Spain.
On Saturday there is a handwritten light.
Like a goat captured during the baroque desert period,
With a blanket of boys and magicians.
The goats have large horns and are decorated with oak leaves.
The old salesman had a baby in his hand.
Satan seems to be working
as a priest at the opening ceremony of the child,
although sometimes the belief in superstition
It is often the whip,                     and the vessels of the people who feed on it.
                       You can see two guys cheating.
One on the left,                                 the other on the crown facing the center.
                                      Established office clothes picked up a touch of earth,
Satan was a cassock. [2, 5]                                         Therefore, beards [2. 6];
                 The silhouettes act like poverty and the body cavity of the mouth, keep applauding and applauding. It's a medium
As you can see,                              and with respect to Moloch's abomination,
                            dirt without form at the same time
The Canaanites, to have a Kircher illuminated 1652.
[In 27 schools]                        Before the court stayed too often as a woman,
especially if they derive from Cowin Woonderfull.
[28] The other form of terror brought arcs;
                        His head had to be watched
          while the patient breathed with fear.
There are women in the history of art,                writes Brian McQuade,
"subgroup of men gathered
and this is mainly due to wild idiopathic stars. "
[29] of his absolute power that women compare.
                                 with King Carl Jung, in 1815, near the Philippines;
There are many specific chauvinist influences,
fear of power [3] and women, young and old,
And similar characteristics, but the rope and the nerves at work are ...
in the atmosphere of Perkins' tone,
I created Luis Vives during the fourth Gomarrah,
Ribera and Jusepe; It is this fact, however,
who are using changes from each one of you,
And in the dark, he was an admirer.
From the chiaroscuro of Caravaggio.
Chamber Orchestra; and the steps,
that are used in obedience still known
for the things that were given to him,
And the same sources,                   as well as Rembrandt.    
[30]                   the devil in the form of a goat,
Surrounded by the flock of the crescent moon.
From the prey of the Covina pig,                          it illuminated Món Barril.
he conquered the crown of oak leaves and goat horns,
You will have a wide range of closed transactions,
It must be picked up in the child's hand.
Near the body, the children are dead.
when a bird was flying over the night of the head.    Substrate with seven arc
                       waves 1789 -
Goy images of witchcraft,                                 they saw the fear of a robbery,
Political gain and half of age of the people.                                           [31 ...]
                                 An old woman sitting to the right of the goat;       I'll see
Nobody hides his face,
And half of the white man is the copy.
Of the hooded head and habit habit.
I sat to the right of the bottles and the axis region.
   If Judge Robert Hughes is wonderful,
"And witchcraft and the filters of evil".
[32] With all the eyes of the characters.
They are full of white paint [33] in which the two main figures -.
The goat and the extreme right in recession.
The woman was separated from the group,
      You can hear what is happening at Covina's request.
[32] These two kings, and probable lover, good maiden.
Perky in his industry, Leocadia Weiss [2 ../ 5],
The image appears throughout the fill in the same series.
                                                                ­   [33]

It is less than the black passenger.
Solve the problems of Perkins,    painted in blue, brown,
gray, serious and serious blows.                  Sometimes they went to the place
                                        where they were staying, where the dark black was.
           Of course, they are in the form of a girl,
This is the pain, given the feelings of the devil.
Like other works in the series,
take a week after work,
net shots [34]                     The thickness of the black carbon chalk is applied
                                                    to the underground wash with a white pencil
    Because of the capture of secret images,                                    the duchess
                 was responsible for the Duchess,
but she did not know whether it was finished or unfinished.
[2b]                                     In the 20th century, the painting
was bought by businessman José Lazaro Galdiano,
and his death was transferred to the state of Spain.
On Saturday, handwritten light appears
as a goat captured during the baroque period of the desert,
with a blanket of young boys and old wizards.
Goats have large horns and are decorated with oak leaves. |
The old seller had a baby in his hand. ||
Satan seems to work as a priest during the child's opening ceremony, although sometimes belief in superstition
is often the whip and goggles of people who feed.
You can see two guys cheating.
One on the left, the other on the crown in the center in front.
Wear clerical established picked up a mound of earth,
Satan was an cassock. [2, 5] Hence, the beards             [2. 6];
       Silhouettes act like poverty and body cavity of the mouth,
and a heavy, described clapping.                              It is a form,
as can be seen, and as for Molech the abomination,
of the filthiness out of shape at the same time
the Canaanites,                                  to have a 1652
                                                    Kircher are enlightened;
                                           [He holds 27 school positions]
before the court sat around too often as women,
especially if they derive from Cowin                                      Woonderfull.
[28]          The other form of terror carried bows;
his head to observe as the patient inhales in awe.
There are ladies of art history,                                 writes Brian McQuade,
                                    "sub-group of men gathered
and which is due mainly to the wild, idiotic stars."
[29] of its absolute power that women compare
with King Carl Jung, in 1815,
near the Philippines;
|   there are many specific charisma's influence,
power fear. [3] and women, young and old mix,
and similar features,                             but the job's sad cord and nerves are...
                      in the atmosphere of Perkins' tone,
used to create Luis' Vivas in the fourth Gomarrah,
   Ribera, and Jusepe; it is this fact, however,
that the use as of the changes of all of thee,
and in the darkness was an admirer
of de Caravaggio as chiaroscuro.
Chamber Orchestra;                                                       ­    and the steps,
which are used in yet learned obedience
                                            by the things which were delivered to him,
and out of the same sources, as well as Rembrandt.                        [30...]
the devil in the form of a goat,
surrounded by the rising moon flock
of loathsome Covina carrying,                              illuminated World barren.
conquered the crown of oak leaves and goat horns,
has a wide range. it will be a closed transactions &
should be taken up in a child's hand ordained inside.
Located near the body, some children died
when a bird flying over head night.                        Seven bow wave substrate
                                                          1789 -
Goy images of witchcraft,                       who saw fears of a robbery,
and half of people's ages political gain.                                       [31 ...]
An old woman sitting to the right of the goat; see.
There is no one hiding the face thereof,
                                           and the half of the white man is the copy
of his hooded head, and of wearing of the habit of.
He sits on the right of the bottles and the shaft region.
If Judge Robert Hughes is wonderful,
                                           "and witchcraft and philtres diabolical".
[32] With all the eyes of the figures
are lined with white paint [33]
in which the two major figures -.
The female goat,                       and the far right - in a recession.
The woman was separated from the group,
one can hear what is going on in demand Covina.                  [32] These two kings,                                          and probable lover happy maid
Perky in her industry Leocadia Weiss [25+],
whose image appears on the length of filler in the same series.              [33]

                                      ­               That is less than the black sooted passenger
solving problems Perkins, painted in colors of blue,            brown, gray, wide serious blow. At times,                                    they went into the place & left,
                                                                ­            where there is the dark black,
it is clear that they are in the form                                        of a girl,
this is grief given the feelings of the devil.
                    Like other works in the series,
carrying a week after he worked,
slashing strokes. [34]           The thickness of the plaster carbon
black paint applied to the field underlain wash
with a white pencil, color,                                                crystal glass of red
                      and blue in Dortmundi
crushed iron oxides,                               Orphic ointment, cover.        [35 ...]  
     It is not necessarily material is mixed. [23] Technical analysis indicates
                                                                ­ that the majority of Black Art began
with preparatory drawings.               This page was the exception last week
of the composition of the waves does not think
that there is no reverence,        portrayed    in stone.      muzki of the brand
seems to have critic Carl, Mark Licht
«clumsy, bulky and slow, 'it is not enough in comparison
with what went before the end of the work.
                What a thought of how much is a scam,
and they were unable to believe, being vainly Lit
          by their own feelings in the body,
the introduction of a human is doubtful.                                               [36]
The only thing for the series of the week, and the sagas have not changed significantly from the original work Perkins.                                       [34]
Function fantasy wizards, many characters.
The goat runs to the left of the child,                                             not the left,
and the moon stands in front of the canvas
in the upper left corner.                            [5]         In the middle of high land,
many brave warriors can see the speed
of moving backwards along the curves of Chris S. Chandler.

        When the religious clergyman puts an end to the monk,
he brings out a pile of earth that the devil can eat.
[25] Thus,                               the silhouette of a beard                               [26]
                                               works like poverty,
the body cavity, the womb,    the palms
and the palms.           It is a form, as you can see,
and Moloch has put the filth of dirt in the figure,
while the Canaanites,                                  to get illuminated 1652, Kircher.
                   [It took 27 seconds
                                                   before the courts became known as women,
especially if they came from Quinn and Wunderful.                               [28]
               The other form of terrorism takes its head
                                                   to control the patient's inhalation and terror.
There are women in the history of art,
he writes that Brian McQuaid is "a subset of people gathered,
mainly because of silence, because of the stars".              [29]
His absolute power is compared to that of women
with King Carl 1815, near the Philippines;                There are many effects of specific charisms, of fears of power. [3]
Women,                                           a mixture of young and old traits, similar,
                       but the task is nerves and rope. n    
                       The tone Perkins used to create Louis IV's Lives to the fourth
                 Gomorrah,                                                        ­     Riviera and Rio;
Jusepe. Saint-Tropez is a coastal town
on the French Riviera, in the Provence-Alpes-Côte d'Azur region
of southeastern France. Long popular with artists,
the town attracted the international
"jet set" in the 1960s, and remains known
for its beaches and nightlife. The cobblestone paved
La Ponche quarter recalls its past as a fishing village,
although yachts now outnumber fishing boats
in the Vieux Port (Old Port).           However, this is that the use of change
                                                    in everything,
and in the dark,                                                 was admired by Caravaggio
as a true one. Chamber Orchestra;
           the steps used in obedience
that have been won so far by the things
that have been given to him
and by the same sources,                     as well as by Rembrandt.
[30]                                          The devil, in the shape of a goat,
                         surrounded by the high moon of litigious cattle,
illuminates the arid world.                        The crown of crowns
ed oak leaves and goat horns have a wide range.
               The operations that will be carried out
in the hand of the child specified at home will be closed.
Located near the body,                       some children died
when a bird flew during the night.
Seven Substrate Rainbows,        1789 Joey,
magical images that have seen the fear of theft,        half gain political gains.
                                                                ­              [3, 1...]
An old woman standing to the right of the goats; watch.
Nobody hides his face,                   half of the white man is a shadow version,
usually hard.
It is located on the right side of the bottles
and the axis area.                                   If Judge Robert Hughes is wonderful
"and a witch and a demon".
With all eyes, the numbers
   fill with white paint [33] -
where the two main characters -.
The goat and the woman from the far right -
in a recession.          The women separated
from the group, you can hear what happens
with Covina's request. (32)                            These two kings, likely lovers and the complete maids of Perkins Leocadia Weiss,
[25] the image appears throughout the series.  [33]

This is less of a problem to solve
the Black,                                              Black Perkins problem of silkworms,
painted in blue, white, gray,                                and once serious and severe.
Sometimes they went to the left where the darkness is dark,
of course under this form is the sadness,
                                 taking into account the feelings of the devil.
Like other works in the series, it takes a week after working, cut.          
                                                  ­                                            [34 ...]
The thickness of the black carbon ice layer
is applied in the field below the surface by a white feather,
a color and a red and blue glass crystal
in iron oxides to the floor of Dortmund. [35]
The required material is not mixed. [23] Technical analysis shows that most of the black arts began with preparatory drawings.
                          This page was last week
except for the composition of the waves,           I do not think there is respect
                        for aesthetic photography.
The photo of the brand seems to be Karl's critic, Mark Licht,
"unfortunate, huge and slow",
it is not enough to compare it before the end of the work.
What he thinks about the amount of scam, he could not believe,
                      being unnecessary to his own feelings in the body,
the human introduction is questionable.                    [36]
The only one that has changed for the series of the week
                      or the epic of Perkins' original work. [3. 4]
purpu Oct 2016
Es tanzt im Kreis das Schwergewicht
herauf und schaukelt gerne,
Nester aneinander liegen dicht,
streuen Licht und Wärme.

Führt vom Stamm bis Zweige
Bewohner durch die grüne Schicht,
gerührt vom Licht der Bleibe,
ein Lächeln im Leben, das Gewicht
des Baumes schönen Leibe.
Aye think o this
When winter breezes blaws aroun'
whare silent thochts are filled wae gloom
and drifting words,they echo past
frae fearful man an fearful lass
In haunted hooses and misty lans
whare Ghosties an gobblins an unco bans
Pass atween this an theirs, that form
amidst tha thunders crashing storm.

Aye tucked up aroun yeer mithers apron
wae teeth a nashing an voices wailing
Fine ye ken this unhaly nicht
tis filled wae all unGodly licht
Craw tha Banshee frae tha Ben
like howlet song throughoot tha Glen.
Satan, Auld horney casts his lots
for innocent bairnies fresh frae their cots
An' ancient stories there arise an fly
Like shooting stars that fill tha sky
for here in tales tha croonies dae rattle
in haunting airs and fiendish battle
leagons arise tae tha masters calling
This nicht hell awakens, aahhh tha heevens are falling.

Here in blackened darkened skies
whare lichtning flashes weaves an cries
An mortal man fears fa his soul
against that heelish burning coal
Ministers intae their beds are fleeing
wae ranting verses fa all their Dealing.

Whare auld worn hags an witches cast
upon tha waters that blaw an blast
drooning mony tha ship an sailor
all fa tha glory O their Demonic tailor
when cauldrens stir in bubbling brews
An damnation demands its richtful dues
tha lan' it heaves and haws
devouring all within its jaws
A Blood red Moon casts her lot
whare evil men have Died an fought
tha Earth auld an worn frae tribulation
demands the blood of every nation.
Here within the fields o life
brither against brither in war an strife
hae released all this fiendish nightmare
fa all their guilt,fa all they share


Alisdaire O'Caoimph
Matthew Mefford Apr 2014
Give me your lips,
Touch them to mine,
Give me your ashes,
Give me your life,
Give me your love,
I'll be your grave,
Give me your innocence,
I'll be your daze,

I'm the one you need,
Take my hand and be freed.
Nienke Aug 2015
rusteloosheid
en vastgeroest verdriet
niemand ziet
het lam tussen de wolven
maar ver komt het niet
waar komt het vandaan
en waar is het geboren
of zit dat tussen haar oren
als er weer eens niemand is
het aftuigen van zelf
nog hopen op meer
lichamelijk zeer
een druppel wanhoop
gemengd met wantrouwen
en al gauw, de wanemmer verzoop
in eigen tranen
dan stromen het doet
en blijft stromen voor goed
rusteloosheid
diep in de nacht
wanneer er niemand op je wacht
behalve de ster achter de wolken
geen woorden maar daden
ja dat zal het zijn
maar het tegenbewijs valt klein
woorden onhoorbaar
een jongen die lacht
het vertrouwen ontkracht
een laatste afscheidsgroet
valt niet helemaal goed
als de duisternis nabij
zoals mijn geboorte
alleen en vrij
later zeer zelfstandig
maar nog geen procent als de rest
verpest
verpest
waarom ben ik zo anders
wat is er mis met mij, zo vrij
iedereen een ander perspectief
en ik begrijp het maar niet
ook al noemen ze mij lief
de wereld redden
met iedereen erin
heeft opeens weinig zin
als het verboden blijkt te zijn
slechts een eenzijdig spel
ach, het lam weet het nu wel
tevergeefs
rennend in de ochtendzon
verscholen in een wolkenbed
de eerste straal licht
uit het zicht
uit het zicht van de wolven
waar anders heen
springend over steentjes
met sterke beentjes
alleen in de grote wei
waarin de stilte zo groot
haar hart stilletjes vergroot
zo ook de klap van pijn
de enorme val
zo jong al
de verhouding van zwaarte
en het verdragen
aan de andere kant het extreem behagen
dat is toch geen rechte lijn
maar slechts twee woorden mochten er zijn
in steen gekerfd, beroerd gepolijst
blijdschap en depressie
maar niets er tussen in
want dat had toch geen zin
voor iemand met sensitieve uitersten
bestaat geen middenin
toch levende in een wereld van het midden
zoek balans, het middelpunt
en *** men het haar ook gunt
ze was nu eenmaal als lam geboren
en niet als schaap..  (noch rund)

blind als een mol
gravend in de grond
het was haar eigen graf
waar ze uiteindelijk op stond
omringd door de vertrouwde pijn
vroeg zich af wel van haar te zijn
met borstkas gespleten door twee
het lam kreeg heimwee
stond half dood op
wachtend op één
met hart nog langzaam trekkend
lekkend
de geur van aarde in vacht
wie had deze terugkomst ooit verwacht
en het worden van schaap
in wolfskleren
wilde zich immers niet bezeren
want moe het al was
met steen gevulde buik
de val nu slechts een kras
en wist niet eens meer wat de val was
de doorn(en) uit verleden
gestoken in vers vlees
al genoeg geleden
dus besloot nu gewoon ook wolvin
je bent een wolf, meisje
je bent een wolfmeisje
met het schaap
bloedend
nog ergens binnenin
Die Nacht ist so gelassen.
So verlockend. So klar.
Ich sehe in der Dunkelheit was im Licht versteckt ist.
Ich höre in der Nacht was im Tag nicht klingt.
Ich verstehe um Mitternacht was um Mittag so verwirrend ist.
Ich will in der Nacht was im Tag unerwünscht ist.

Nacht, meine gute Freunde,
Komm und küss mich auf die Wange:
Umarm mich und lass mich nie wieder gehen.

---

The Night is so serene.
So seductive. So clear.
I see in the darkness what hides in the light.
I hear at night what remains silent in the day.
I understand at midnight what is so perplexing at noon.
I want in the night what is so undesirable in the day.

Night, my good friend,
come and kiss me on the cheek:
Wrap your arms around me and never let me go again.
An attempt at writing a poem in German, with a translation into English included.
Transcendence. A word to pay attention to.
To find that transcendence in you,
that feeling within,
that's the genius behind poetry.

Transport. A word to pay attention to.
To find that transport in you, that vehicle within,
that's the transport self to find the genius in poetry.

Transparence. A word to pay attention to.
To find that transparence in you,
that light within, that's the genius in poetry.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~­~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I have written these lines first in DUTCH
(my mother tongue) then in English:

Transcendence.
Een woord om aandacht te besteden aan.
Om dat transcendentie in u te vinden, dat gevoel
van binnen, dat is het genie achter poëzie.

Transporteren.
Een woord om aandacht te besteden aan.
Om dat transport in je, dat voertuig binnenin,
dat is het vervoer zelf om het genie in de poëzie
te vinden.

Transparantie.
Een woord om aandacht te besteden aan.
Om dat transparantie in u, dat licht binnenin
te vinden, dat is het genie in poëzie.




© Sylvia Frances Chan~~
Thursday 13th March 2014
17.17 hrs p.m. W.E.Time
Very Sunny temperatures, like in Summer
but no Spring yet, still cold freezing Nights
Elyas Nakos Apr 2017
3
Dreimal klopft der Specht dann öffnen sich die Himmelspforten.
Dreimal um den Block  gerannt, zweimal Gott  getroffen.
Die Hände gestreckt, entgegen dem Sterbelicht.
Ich seh ein Licht, ich seh ein Licht.

Dreimal mit einem Engel geflogen,
einmal abgestürzt.
Ein Stopp auf Wolke Sieben.
So elegant, oh so elegant.

Dreimal bin ich hingefallen, zweimal wieder aufgerichtet.
Einmal fast ertrunken in der Selbstzerstörung.
Hinunter gezogen hat es mich, als hätt ich einen Anker am Fuße.

Dreimal schon hab ich geliebt.
Einmal nur mich selbst.
Zweimal nur die Welt.

Noch keinmal wurd ich selbsterfüllt.
Zweimal muss ich nochmals graben.
Einmal werd ichs doch dann finden.
#3
Waitherero Jun 2013
ich danke dir
ich dank dir nicht
ich hoffe,...
doch möchte ich es nicht

ich denke
heißt das ich bin

alles kommt mal ans Licht
Schicht für Schicht
entfaltet die Wahrheit sich

wie ein Kartenhaus bricht alles in sich
und alles endet in einen Haufen nichts

wenn das geschieht
stehen wir vor dem Gericht
allein und ohne nichts

in dir kommen Gedanken
nichts mehr ist zum Lachen

Ernst ist gefragt
und wenn du versagst
liegt es allein in deiner Hand

das wird die Zeit sein
in der du dir sagst...

von nichts kommt nichts
ich bin ich
und du bist der der du bist

alles was ich will
ist ein lächeln im Gesicht
und ein schönes Gedicht
#ich bin ich #ich #bin #Licht #hoffe #Hoffnung #Deutsch #Denken #sein
Samira Meroe Jul 2010
sie kniet mächtig unter über unter ihrem Haar
du bist süchtig, ihrer blicke, deren Anmut, feurig starr
sie erhebt sich, ganz entblößt, doch vollkommen und bestimmt
und dann erzählt sie, in ihrer Schönheit, dass sie ist doch noch ein Kind

Dieses Mädchen, verworren wild, voller Kraft und voller Geist,

OH DIESER ANMUT 
DIESE SCHÖNHEIT
DIESE BLICKE

sie sagt leis,
oh liebe Freundin,

du willst doch nicht,
mir weis machen,
ich bin du,

deine Reinheit,
mit meiner,
nicht zu vergleichen ist.

Und mein Ich, es schaut mich an, so licht, leicht voller Seele.
Und als ich denke DAS BIN ICH, kommen die, die fehlen,
tausend Mädchen, sie bin ich, ich bin nicht mehr zu zählen.
TAUSEND GEFÜHLE: DAS BIN ICH
dann versinke ich in Tränen
Caroline W Jun 2019
Scherben in nem eispalast -
Konserviert und eingefasst..
Labyinth aus Licht und Schatten,
Alpträume die sich verstecken
Träume die sie versteckt halten
Den Blick zu den sternen,
Weil nur dort oben keine Schatten sind
An ins Sternbild des Drachen
Weil ich nur dort zuhause bin
Und nicht auf dieser Erde

Nein ich muss aus einer dieser anderen Welten,
Da oben bei den sternen sein -
Kann mich nicht von natur aus um diese sonne drehen,
Keine Ahnung von wo da oben ich herkam -
Oder wohin ich dabei war zu gehen,
Doch Weiß ich das es nicht hier unten war,
Sonst würde sich nicht alles hier unten
Völlig falschrum für mich drehn,
Selbst Tag und Nacht sind verkehrt ,
Zu kurz ,zu schnell und kalt -
Wie alles andere auch ,
Viel zu schnell am vergehen


Es sind nur lichtblitze zwischen all den Schatten zu sehn,
Die die Bilder ein brennen die in diesen Schatten entstehen,
Wie blitze fotos in einen Film -
Jedes davon ein Beweis,
Das ich blos gestrandet bin,
Hier wo Dämonen wie sonst engel aussehn,
Wo alles sich gegenseitig frisst,
Und allein Wahnsinn fähig macht,
das alles lang genug zu überstehen,
Um auch nur lang genug das licht,
des wegs weit genug nach oben zu sehn,
Um überhaupt heraus zu finden
Das sterne an nem Himmel existiern -
Hoch genug oben um sich zu verstecken
Vor allem was nicht fliegen kann oder
verzweifelt genug davon ist,
in realen Horrorfilmen zu stehen,
‎um auf der Flucht vor all den Szenen
‎einfach blind nach oben zu gehn,
‎wo eine wand ist ,
beginnt zu klettern,
‎um nur nicht mehr in blut und Asche zu stehen
Fight your way up!
Ken Pepiton Nov 2018
Das Licht oder the Being

little 1 part in

How many?
How many parts are you part of
on the whole,
how many,

would you say, if you thought?
took thought or
take thought or
make thought? thinking

per se, the thing of thinging is
thinking first,

what if?
then, and so on

step 1. step 2. step 4.

the tree of actions
abstract syntax trees
confusing, mixing, merging, then

scatter to the four winds and their
tributaries
all the families and tribes and nations and languages

to attain optimum genetic detergency by
sorting on the best to
survive the lie,
history hides behind,
Plato's Republican Lie to the Democratic mob,
the emperor's idea, the idea of empire,

the top-down empire that fell,
in the vision that satrap
in Babylon saw before
the writing on the wall.

We are with you always.
We are the poor in spirit.
You feel
poor?
No, then go feel good.
Good with light burden and easy yoke and poor,
but not
hungry
but not.

What quest must we take once more?
A request was offered in prayer,
an asking for a why to live.
The quest take as granted
for the asking
asking again
ask

May I have some more money?
to repair my house and any
thing money can repair?

Say yes. amen.
Hegel, was it, da sein? One of the H philo s in the history of guessing, I guess.
AW Apr 2015
Als een zoeklicht, opgericht
Naar een hemel vol sterren
Kruist ze lichtstralen, verhalen
En schiet verder in de nacht
Voor één moment, onbekend
Voor de lege eenzaamheid
Dan weer eindeloos, zwart

Een knipperlichtrelatie
Met de glinsterende maan
Stralend middelpunt
Van de nacht die zij zelf
Slechts bliksemsnel verlichten mag

Zij, kortstondig als de dag
En voor de maan niet anders
Dan de sterren
Die hij lichtjaren eerder
Al doven zag

De afstand onoverbrugbaar
Tussen haar en het donkerste licht
Vindt ze zichzelf
In het laatste kwartier
Terug aan de kust

De enige plek waar zijn vingers haar beroeren
Waar zijn passie in de golven
Haar op haar knieën dwingt
Waar de zwarte eenzaamheid
Haar niet langer van hem *******br>Daar waar de maan
Het tij steeds weer keert
Stevie Ray Jun 2015
Een blinde vlek voor de observant
een langdurige schaduw die de zon alleen kan bereiken door de weerkaatsing van licht
op specifieke tijden
en via specifieke planeten
op cruciale zeldzame plaatsen
De zon schijnt er niet
diepe kraters en littekens
alles komt hard binnen
er is geen atmosfeer die klappen verzacht
of obstakels verbrand
alles komt ongefilterd binnen
Alles vind plaats in de schaduw
Terwijl de andere kant straalt
en iedereen het prachtige schouwspel 'snachts aanschouwt
Alleen een enkeling echt bewust
van de misère die afspeelt aan de duistere kant van de maan
Daarvoor is de maan dankbaar
dankbaar dat het gezicht dat niemand ziet
gezien word en erkent word.
Nienke Feb 2015
de maan streelt mijn naakte huid
teder en zacht
net of iemand op mij wacht
daar in het hoekje van het natte dakraam
ver weg
schijnt toch zo voldaan

en al is haar blanke gloed
slechts een reflectie van
een verdoofd licht
zo veel die reflectie mij kan schenken
want ook de maan heeft meer dan één gezicht

's nachts toont ze soms bescheiden een lach
wachtend op de overname van de zon
wachtend op een nieuwe dag
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
Kyle Leafe Nov 2013
Du wirst diese Geschichte nicht lesen glaub ich aber du kannst  das übersetzen. Ich habe dich so sehr geliebt.
Ich vermisse dich so sehr jetzt.
Ich weiß dass ich nicht ein guter Mann  bin.
Komm zurück zu mir.
Ich denke das wird eine schwere Zeit ohne dich zu sein.
Mein Teufel ist  da. Du hast den schon gesehen und hoffentlich kannst du mir in eine gute Licht anzusehen.
Hoffentlich. Wirst du mich nicht hassen.
Ich suche das Licht im offenen Feld
Doch sehe nur den Schatten
Von Bäumen hinter meinen Rücken
Meine Füsse getauft in Erdscholle
Die Fragen in mir optisch dargestellt

Nicht, dass ich den Weg verloren habe
Oder ich meinen Geist schwer
Auf mein Leben drücke

Nein, es ist die Sucht
Nach Weisheit was treibt;
Klarheit in Worten
Die Wahrheit hinter Reden
Oder das Leben nach dem Tod

Kurz gesagt, was findet man
Wenn man sieht durch das Fenster
Einer verborgenen Pforte
German
Sabah Thaziri Jul 2014
Als du gingst
ging die Welt entzwei
ging nichts mehr

als du gingst
ging das Licht aus
gingen die Träume

als du gingst
ging ich meilenweit
über Scherben

ging über dich hinaus
zurück zu mir
als du gingst
Yousra Amatullah Feb 2021
Mijn Liefde,
Met het hart op de tong vraag ik U,
Waarom U mij wilt raken,
Met Uw in liefde doordrenkte woorden,
Welke het water zijn van mijn gedachte, mijn hart en ziel,
Opdat U op het eind vraagt naar hetgeen, waarover U mij Zèlf houderschap heeft geschonken.

Mijn Vriend, mijn Beschermer, 
Zolang ik Uw woorden mag voelen,
Zolang ik naar Uw woorden mag luisteren,
Zolang ik Uw woorden mag aanschouwen,
Ben ik U meest dankbaar,
In de mate waarvan U mij hierover houderschap heeft geschonken.

Mijn Leiding,
Dwalend in het donker,
Zoekend naar hetgeen mijn dorst kon lessen,
Zoekend in zeeën van droogte; wereldse lessen,
Ik zag niet, U zag mij,
Gissen in het droge zand, is sindsdien voorbij,
Ik snap nu, U bent het licht waarnaar ik snakte,
U bent waardoor ik niet verder in de afgrond zakte.

U heeft mij houderschap geschonken in verschillende vormen en in ontelbare mate,
Hetgeen U mij houder van heeft gemaakt, Allah swt, houd ik in de gaten,
Zolang liefde van U, als water stroomt door mijn vaten.
Daan Mar 2020
In de kelder heb ik een kamer vrij
gehouden, opgemaakt en zo geheim
dat ik er niemand, buiten mij,
zou binnen laten.

Het licht is dim en door de opening van de deur
valt het meeste licht op een houten
sokkeltje. Daarnaast hangt er een geur
van jong parfum en een glinster gouden
mokkeltje.

Het is mij een dierbaar ver verleden,
waar ik vroeger veel om heb geleden.
Net daarom staat het uit zicht
en krijgt het gewelf er amper licht.

Op de sokkel staat een herinnering die me telkens kan ontstuimen.
Misschien is het eens tijd om de kamer op te ruimen.
Oppassen geblazen
Hakikur Rahman Apr 2021
Dunkelheit im Schatten des Lichts
Und in dieser Dunkelheit gehen
Der vordere Weg ist wie eine Fata Morgana
Auf dem gleichen Weg ist Erfolg angesagt.

Eine Seite, die andere Seite, beide Seiten sind überschwemmt
Wie der Fluss an regnerischen Tagen
Messung der Bewegung von Hoffnung und Vertrauen
Die Vorteile sind als solche.

Muss noch schauen
Wer geht übrigens
Muss noch zuhören
Wer spricht.
Corina Dec 2014
Dag
De sluiers van de slaap
verdwijnen, het licht
was hier weer eerder dan ik, vandaag
goedemorgen, morgen
vandaag weer, een dag om
wie zal ik pijn doen?
Amaryllis Jun 2019
Breek door het duistere zicht,
En geniet van het eeuwige licht.
A poem in Dutch

Enjoy!

Break through the dark sight,
And enjoy the eternal light.
Jonas Sep 2023
Die Straßen ziehen vorbei
Licht an Licht wie fallende Sternschnuppen vorm Fenster.
Bei Tageslicht, Abenddämmerung, Sonnenaufgang
ein neuer Tag.
Bäume, Häuser, Felder,
Wälder

Die Materie meines Landes wiegt mich in die Schläfrigkeit,
geborgen
Das Buch in meiner Hand fällt in meinen Schoß
Immer noch dieselbe Seite,
bin immer noch nicht weiter.
Der Inhalt unverändert unbegreiflich
Mein Atem geht zum Rhythmus der Schienen unter uns.
Wir fliegen zusammen und doch bleibe ich allein.

Augen zu, Augen auf
du hast geblinzelt.
Ankunft, Abfahrt
du hast geblinzelt.
Auf ins Neue, ins Unbekannte
oder doch zurück zu alten Gegenden?
Durch die Entfernung wieder neu erlebt.

Kommst du jetzt wieder zurück?
Hast du genug bekommen,
Antworten gefunden auf die Fragen die du nicht fandest?
Die du nicht zu stellen wagtest?
Die dich trotzdem quälten?

Du warst zu lange fort,
deine Heimat ist noch hier,
aber Hier ist nicht mehr dein Hier,
längst ein anderer Ort.

Du wolltest alles hinter dir lassen,
gingest
trotz der Angst dann zu viel zu verpassen,
Hauptsache weg, weg von hier
dachtest du hättest nicht viel zu verlieren.
Allem entfliehen, Pause, Neuanfang
Ohne genau zu wissen was dieses Alles überhaupt war.

Hast du es nicht ausgehalten letztendlich
so ohne sie, die Anderen?
Im Nichts, im Nirgendwo auf eigenen Wegen zu wandern?
Einsam im Herzen hast du dich wieder verrannt
Im Herzen stumpf, die Seele verbrannt.

Nun kommst du wieder,
zurück,
um zu sehen was  noch übrig ist
Zurück zum Alten, Vertrauten, Selben
Wir sind aber nicht mehr die Selben
Du ja auch nicht.

Alles wieder etwas anders, verschoben
Wieder ein bisschen auseinander gelebt,
voneinander entfernt,
weitergemacht, natürlich, nur halt ohne dich.
Schade eigentlich.

Doch nun schließ die Augen, schlaf
Gestern war auch ein neuer Tag,
verronnen,
Morgen wird noch kommen.
Wer nie ankommt der reist für immer,
umher.

Naja, wenigstens auf Schienen,
und noch nicht entgleist.

— The End —