Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
kg Oct 2013
there is a constant sadness
that i don't like to talk about with other people
because they don't seem to understand
unless they have it too.

it makes me feel like i'm trying to make myself a victim
or make it seem like i'm a survivor of some horrible disease
but i'm neither, just a girl with tar in her brain
trying to keep from drowning.

the good things feel amazing and the
awful moments feel like i'm dying, two extremes
with no happy medium, the only in between
is a feeling of hopelessness for a brighter day.

overcast, cold weather warms my worried heart
and when the snow starts to fall i feel at home,
wrapped in a blanket of chills i fall soundly asleep
hoping to wake up from the dark dream.
Robert N Varty Jan 2013
Uns,
geht alles gut.

Deine Augen, die hübschesten.
Dein Gesicht, das schönste.
Dein Lächeln, das hellste.
Dein Lachen, der glücklichste.
Dein Geruch, der beruhigende.

(Alles geht mir gut)

Dein Umarmung
Trost.
Deine Stimme
Ruhe.
Dein Kuss
Freiheit.

(Alles geht mir gut)

Meine Anerkennung deiner Liebe
Deine Anerkennung meiner Liebe

(Alles geht uns gut)

Aber dann gab es die Zeit,
Veränderung.
Unsicherheit.
Beklommenheit.

(Alles geht mir fremd)

Mein Misverständnis deiner Liebe
Mein Misverständnis deiner Anerkennung

Aber ich verstehe.
Verstehe ich gut.

Die Anerkennung ist nicht so.
Die Anerkennung gab es nicht mehr.
Die Anerkennung wird der Verlust

Der Verlust des Trostes
Der Verlust der Ruhe
Der Verlust der Freiheit

Der Verlust der Liebe.
LERocmar Dec 2019
Ich verstehe,
ich verstehe.
Je sais que mon coeur ne sait pas les emotions.
Mais, je pense que mon coeur comprend les emotions.
Peut-etre c'est fausse.
C'est juste une illusion.
Peut-etre c'est vrai.
Ou peut-etre ni vrai ni fausse.
C'est tout.
Je pense que mon coeur peut comprendre.
Et moi?
Und mir?
Ich verstehe,
ich verstehe.
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.
Ich wollte dir ein Gedicht schreiben
Aber du wurdest mein Gedicht
Jetzt verstehe ich, als ich bei dir war
Dass die besten Tage meines Lebens verbracht habe

Ich wollte dir ein Gedicht schreiben
Weil du der Grund warst, warum ich mich verliebt habe
Und glücklich wurde, und träumte

Umarme mich von weitem
Lass mich nicht gehen
Länger zusammen bleiben

Ich wollte dir ein Gedicht schreiben
Weil ich wusste, dass Gefühl in mir richtig war
Und du warst es wert
Ich will dass ihr mir vertraut
Ich will dass ihr mir glaubt
Ich will eure Blicke spüren
Ich will jeden Herzschlag kontrollieren

Ich will eure Stimmen hören
Ich will die Ruhe stören
Ich will dass ihr mich gut seht
Ich will dass ihr mich versteht

Ich will eure Phantasie
Ich will eure Energie
Ich will eure Hände sehen
Ich will in Beifall untergehen

Seht ihr mich?
Versteht ihr mich?
Fühlt ihr mich?
Hört ihr mich?

Könnt ihr mich hören?
Wir hören dich
Könnt ihr mich sehen?
Wir sehen dich
Könnt ihr mich fühlen?
Wir fühlen dich
Ich versteh' euch nicht

Ich will

Wir wollen dass ihr uns vertraut
Wir wollen dass ihr uns alles glaubt
Wir wollen eure Hände sehen
Wir wollen in Beifall untergeh'n - ja

Könnt ihr mich hören?
Wir hören dich
Könnt ihr mich sehen?
Wir sehen dich
Könnt ihr mich fühlen?
Wir fühlen dich
Ich versteh' euch nicht

Könnt ihr uns hören?
Wir hören euch
Könnt ihr uns sehen?
Wir sehen euch
Könnt ihr uns fühlen?
Wir fühlen euch
Wir verstehe'n euch nicht

Ich will
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gnkVjkJEouQ
--
I want you to trust me
I want you to believe me
I want to feel your eyes
I want to control every heartbeat

I want to hear your voices
I want to disturb the peace
I want you to see me well
I want you to understand me

I want your fantasy
I want your energy
I want to see your hands
I want to go down in applause

Do you see me?
Do you understand me?
Do you feel me?
Do you hear me?

Can you hear me?
We hear you
Can you see me?
We see you
Can you feel me?
We feel you
I don't understand you

I want

We want you to trust us
We want you to believe everything from us
We want to see your hands
We want to go down in applause - yeah

Can you hear me?
We hear you
Can you see me?
We see you
Can you feel me?
We feel you
I don't understand you

Can you hear us?
We hear you
Can you see us?
We see you
Can you feel us?
We feel you
We don't understand you

I want
Ich möchte dir ein Gedicht schreiben
Weil du bist der Liebe verdient
Jetzt verstehe ich, dass ich meine Zeit mit falschen verbracht habe
Und zu spät gekommen bin, um dich zu finden

Ich möchte dir ein Gedicht schreiben
Weil du der Grund bist, warum ich mich hinlege
Und stundenlang Musik höre, und träume davon
Tanz mit dir im Dunkeln
Singe mit meinem gebrochenen Deutsch
Schau dir zu, während du mir Gitarre spielst

Ich möchte dir ein Gedicht schreiben
Weil das Gefühl in mir sagt, dass es richtig ist
Und du bist es wert
Mateuš Conrad Feb 2023
502 bad gateway bypass:

title - veil-machine
body - otherwise no curtains
found.


perhaps: aujourd'hui, maman est morte sounds better in German... heute, mein mutter ist gestorben... maybe: at least in my eyes that have inverted themselves from hearing external sounds and summon thought to the hall of music and said: thinking is a sound, mind you: thinking is all the sense jumbled up - never mind "hearing" oneself "think" or for that matter... without hearing: on the broken bones in fingertips of gesticulating frantically the same as: could you please spread butter on my toast to... i'm drowning! help me!

i very much like the opening line from one of my favourite books... favourite is sort of stretching it, i picked it up by accident in a Barnardo's second hand book store on Nicholson St. in Edinburgh during the Fresher's Week, when i lost my virginity to Isabella and decided that i would adamantly learn French... although i hated French in high school i thought: well... if we started slow and she introduced me to Japanese Anime of a kind i didn't know before... i remember she scolded me for having three picures on the wall, one of Plato, one of Napoleon and one of Marquis de Sade... she didn't mind Marquis de Sade... but virginity for a man is nothing to be kept... it's something that one wants to get rid off... so i started this French course, failed it, because... i didn't attend any of the classes... except for the literature classes... were... to no "oddly enough" we were studying The Stranger... seeing as i "pre-meditatively" bought the book in english... i had to buy the book in French...

oh, the French language... it's almost as bad as English when it comes to surds, i.e. silent letters that are not heard when spoken but clearly visible when written... like in English... little words: to and no vs. too, row "vs." row... to row in a boat... with oars... and a row of birds sitting on a telephone line... a horse is a horse is a gallop and a stirrup and there's also a hoarse... throat... glug glug... a hoarse throat... there's a soar throat too and that's different to i saw and sea-saw and Warsaw and soaring... which is a terrible way of saying: sorry...

rigid was never a language for me... but love is stupid and losing your virginity to an older girl is stupid and... well... i might as well have went to the oral exam at the end of the year and spoken Polish... or tried German... pretending to forget what course i took... instead i just sat there like an idiot... a castrated ... + an idiot... but hell! i aced the literary side of things... i got a 1st for my interpretation of The Outsider... grades being grades... not everything in life that you learn within the confines of: that acid-riddled memory-erosion cesspit of pedagogy has any market value trans-evaluation of: good grades equals better pay... this was a lesson for life...

mother died today. or maybe it was yesterday, i don't know...

for one? terrible punctuation,
i once heard my English teacher tell me...
never begin a sentence in a paragraph of a journalistic
column with a conjunction, akin to OR or AND...
it's bad grammatical etiquette:
it's one thing to reinvent sushi by mixing it up
with some dried, fried onions and a sriracha mayonnaise
and another to serve the same fried dried onions
with a sickly sweet almost Hoisin resembling sauce...
with slices of raw salmon on a bed of rice
rather than those rolls with still the raw salmon
but with some cucumber and creamy cheese
and black sesame to go with it...

maybe i can rewrite that aujourd'hui in German again,
returning to English for German LEGO...
mutter gestorben heute; oder veilleicht
    es war gestern: ich weiß nicht....

i like this: ich weiß nicht...
        it's not... i repeat... it's not:
                         es ist mir egal...
i.e. it's not: i don't care... care... no wonder it's so
pivotal in the German tongue that
Heidegger made CARE so pivotal in his thinking
since: it's so pivotal in the German language
when the German language is translated...
there is no simple, word-for-word,
i.e.  i don't know: ich weiß nicht.
i worry: ich bin besorgt
   eh? i worry is indefinite...
   i is indefinite... there is no definite i...
i struggle is an indefinite phrase...
which i made a joke of once: mein kampf is a definite
expression via ownership...
ich kampf: i struggle is an indefinite expression
of "ownership": since... at any given time
my ego is swayed to "think" of "its" own "existence"
through a muddle of personal memory,
memory erased by pedagogy,
dreams... other people's thoughts...
mein: definitely, since own...
ich? indefinitely, since hey presto here one minute...
hey presto... Houdini pulled a rabbit out
of a top hat not by the ears but by the tail...

today within the confines of tomorrow...
but what is a "today" when you wake up
and remember a dream...
was the dream from yesterday?
was the dream related to yesterday?
just because you went to sleep yesterday
and woke up today... doesn't mean
the interlude of dreaming you had
might make any linear sense relating yesterday
to today or for that matter tomorrow...
so... muddling the yesterday with today
given the accenting of dreams on the psyche...
well... ich weiß nicht (i don't know)
is a rather "passive" attempt... hell: a most proactive
attempt to compartmentalize grief...
it's not: I DON'T CARE...
oh... i do care... but i want to be numb to
the reality that comes first and the knowledge
that comes after of the fact that... there's...
i swear German as a tongue would require
another Heidegger to explore the word
ABSENCE... FEHLEN...
   Abwesenheit is too close, synonymously,
with Abstrahieren...
                heit (-ness)
                   hieren (here)
    hereness... hierenheit... counter to da-sein?
that Dasein is: there-being... me asking: there's being
and be subsequently conjuring hierenheit?!
coincidence... unless that £60 i spent on the black notebooks
and another £30+ more i will spend on the final volume?
maybe?!

maybe that's why i'm so attracted to the continental
mode of thinking, Germanic or otherwise...
i find that, as much as the English adore pressurising
people as atoms into an atomised stated of:
suddenly! the individual was born!
out of thin air! out rebellion!
out of... the demands for everyone else getting
their fair share of intellectual growth...
there is no intellectual growth in the English mind:
the English are too sensible a people to complicate
the matters of thought if there's no:
******* COMMON SENSE FOR THEM AT THE END!
"they" even have a word for it...
it amazes me how sometimes i forget specified nouns
for their destined use... ergonomics?
that will do for a while...

the English don't tend to deal with reality by creating
pockets of abstract reality of:
nicht-sein-da...
            which is a splendid joke that can't be
unravelled by translating Dasein from Deutsche...
for me there is either: sein-da und nicht-sein-da...
a future of a concern, a care...
a waiting pit of that carefully adjusted performance
art of doing the bit of the mortal lot...
i sometimes wake up at night woken up
by the simple fact of mortality:
and i'm glad to be snuggling in bed, alone
with only thinking as my companion...
at least with the thinking my ego can walk through
and peer at mirrors... see its grotesque nature
it's parasitic gluing to a "me" together with
all those wasted daydreams and acts of
non-fruition...
  
i find nothing in English thought that might give
me architecture or backbone to complete
individuality: a process of individuation...
nothing in Locke... i have not bothered with English
"thinking"... the infrastructure is too sensible...
of transport of taxes of... whatever the:
kleinmann erachten unbedingt!

for the simple fact... what is a public intellectual
in the anglo-sphere? a person who goes into
the public domain with a ******* bibliography?
seriously?
backlog of ideas or, something?
regurgitating ideas of the more shy of the intellectual
heap of dung that once could be called
the iq herd?
        at least by reading continental thinkers i
have enriched my private life...
perhaps i enjoy my work perhaps i don't...
i find it absolutely unnecessary to find friendship...
if i can at least stand myself,
conquer this barrage of randomness coming
from an otherwise untameable ego...
let it pass let is pass i say to the innermost "not-i"
while the outermost "i-i" shouts belligerent day-mares
of.... e.g. being cut-short in a queue to a bus...
let that ****** slide... wait... until i bring
forth the reigns of scribbling finger-tips
and all thinking stop! when there's a clear graphic
for grammar, construction, punctuation
and abbreviations (if necessary) of seen sentences:
seen sentences not some ghosts of mere thought!

gut... mein mutter ist nicht tot...
nicht heute, nicht gestern: noch nicht morgen...
i just thought it was weird,
the comparison...
the dimmed lights of the hospital room
she was wheeled into...
and... the dimmed lights of the brothel room
i usually **** prostitutes in...
dimmed lights...
i carefully plucked the grapes off the vines
for her and placed them before her...
i pinched pieces of brownie dough
and dropped them into a bucket of vanilla ice
cream for her... which she gladly ate...
i watched as she ate that baked potato with
an inverted gluttonous pain from coming out
of the anaesthesia...
forgetting she was half alive half head...
some other quarter falling asleep another missing
quarter talkative...
those dimmed lights and the sarcastic green of
the demands of Hippocrates charming the serpent
as: to no avail... the usurper of the sexualised
metaphor, aged throughout Europe,
serpent, the bringer of temptation and hardly
the wisdom...
long before dinosaur bones were discovered
the people were conjuring up fire breathing dragons...
like... pre-meditatively... what?
the fire born was not the meteor and the fall-out
and yet some dinosaur remains
remained alive while the bigger breeds died?!

to think i might have read Kant or Heidegger or anyone
for the purpose of quasi-pedagogy and not have
read said authors for gains in the realm
of personal gains of obstructing access to
the sort of: puddle-people: pfützemenschen...
people who like to see life's point as:
one complication after another
by allow less than complicated people complicate
their already simple lives...
isn't a simple life worth salvaging?
isn't it?!

as they rolled her in from the hysterectomy operation...
in some, rare, cases... a woman's womb acts
like a man's hernia...
i suffered from a hernia as a toddler...
unlike in men... the female version pushes
a piece of tissue inwards... rather than outwards...
my great-grandmother walked with a bulging sack
of a third ******* of a disused womb until her death
because she was too old to have an operation
guided by the Hippocratic concerns:
her heart her stomach might not salvage her
morality with the applied anaesthetic...

but it felt very much like going to a brothel...
i was looking at my mother drifting in and out of a morphine
15min snooze button...
my father looking morbidly worried...
me? smiling face... giggling... trying to fill a space...
my father is a morbidly worried
swan... i sometimes wonder...
would i be worse off caring for my old father
if my mother died before him...
or would i be better off if my father died off
before my mother... i sometimes wonder...
it's still a coin flip... since the reality is yet to come
and i'm having the abstract ready...
this is me looking at my mother in a secure environment
secured by prescribed injections of morphine...
she has also seen me in my "prime"...
what's 40 units x 7 days a week?
280 units of alcohol in a week...
40 units? one bottle of 1 litre of whiskey per day...
when i was at my highest borne Berserker in scribbling
for people who are yet to be born...

we came home i heated up some leftover pasta,
some leftover chicken wings...
some clear chicken soup... it would be considered
a chicken stock by western culinary standards...
ROSÓŁ... but were carrots added?
was celeriac, was celery, was a leek, was root parsley
and fresh parsley, garlic added?
served with vermicelli?
           i watched him relax and watch West Ham beast
Derby in the FA cup... calmly...
the cats were fed... already sleeping in each
of our two beds...

            oh sure sure... romance... like that isn't too impossible
these days...
the congestion of older generations?
to replace them with what?
we cucks united bridging gaps with the already
satiated single-mommies and puppies
of: cuck...
             jeez... headaches from no known sources...

well i can tell you how similar a visit to a hospital
is similar to a visit to a brothel...
you're chasing...
i found myself chasing the queuing of mortality
with my mother today...
only three days ago i was chasing the queuing of
****** experience with a *******...
i'm yet to join the queue of
losing my father...
i know of losing my great-grandfather: vaguely,
i certainly know of losing my great-grandmother
and i know of losing my grandfather...
i'm yet to experience the loss of a friend,
or... "friend"... someone i used to know in high school...
by then it will be almost like losing
someone equivalent to
Michael Schumacher... or... Nelson ******* Mandela...
importance of whatever and that sniff of ZILCH...

a ******* cat with less to say than already said
will have more to say upon its passing than
Neil Armstrong's theatre for the global populace
and the moon conquered... one step for...
some dared not blink some slept through it...
just as long as the technology of it being televised was
real: it doesn't matter whether it was real...
if reinventing the canvas for a painting was
to be translated into the modern world...
television, per se, as the canvas... would... and is...
more important... than whether
it' a comparison of... the laziest example...
Leonardo's Mona Lisa or Picasso's the Weeping Woman...
NIQAB and the BEAUTY
NAKEDNESS and the BEAST...
or rather... NIQAB and the forever thirst for MYTH
of Woman as once, only then and ever...
faking to decipher by a Flaubert...
the ***** in my mind is the Madame Bovary
for women to pretend to be...
obviously they won't... but? does that matter?

hmm... first in german, then in english

i'm under the impression, that this breed of cats
i'm given the authority of: Maine *****...
behave like dogs... and unlike cats...
how clingy they are, less to me and more to my abodes...
they simply recognise me as the possessor
of space and not a timing of space:
with the requirement of others to fill the void...

katzen sich benehmen wie ***̄DE!
absolve all use of diacritical usage
within the staged, up! "lifting" of h to H...
keep i dotted from above within the confines
of I... or J...
are those speckled "hens" necessary

     ah what fun i could have with this
tongue so barren with the implosion of Latin
with what fellow European tongues ascribed
their idiosyncrasy to...
but of course:
           aber natürlich!
Ęnglisch nicht!
                   ßo! die welt überflutet diese inseln!

sie kam mit ihr zeppeline...
mit ihr senf...
mich? mich?!
ich kam mit die trauer...
keine hure könnte verstehe...

the grey the old the white and the black:
the night and the death to come!

der graue das alte das weiß und das Schwarze:
die  nacht und der tod, kommen.

death before life seems so less not-welcome
when speaking just a little bit of German!
mein gott! what a relief to have found
such miserably happy people allocated
a step-by-step realism of abstracting
pocketed-senses of... to **** with
that "umlaut of Hinduism"!
Heinrich... *******... Tibet suits you oh so well!
******* skiing in that crisp-cut welcoming bond with
the Buddha to serve no future Buddha under the Chinese
regime...

       tat ich vergessen etwas?
                          möglicherweise... sie?

me never think i think this tongue through...
mich noch nie denken ich denken diese zunge durch...

moren bein quartal nach elf...

getoastet roggen-brot:
             pochiert-ei
         spitzen... klacks von
hähnchenspermaeigelbpapst...

                  n'est ce'pas: die toten sind tot?
Snow Aug 2021
du.
Du. Du bist alles. Alles für mich.
Alles ist die Luft die ich atme,
die Sonne die mir ins Gesicht scheint,
der Regen auf meiner Haut,
die Fähigkeit zu leben.
Zu leben als gäbe es kein morgen,
als könne jede Sekunde,
jede Träne,
jedes lächeln,
jeder Sonnenuntergang,
jeder Traum
mein letzter sein.
Mein letzter Atemzug.
Ich ertrinke in dir
und du ?
Du stehst 500 Meter von mir entfernt und schaust mich an.
Meine Haare fliegen im Wind,
es ist kalt.
Deine Blicke ziehen mich aus
und das einzige was von mir übrig bleibt ist meine weiße,
kalte Haut.
Meine braunen Haare,
meine blauen Augen.
Und ich ? Wer bin ich ? Wer war ich ? Wen hast du aus mir gemacht ?  
Dich zu verlieren war einst mein größter Schmerz,
das Gefühl zu ertrinken,
keine Wasseroberfläche in Sicht.
Alles dunkel,
Pechschwarz und doch,
doch fühl ich mich leicht,
fast frei, ein Gefühl von Leichtigkeit.
Ich hab mich verloren.
Deine Liebe hat mich konsumiert,
ausgesaugt wie ein Vampir,
bis meine einzige Seele dein war.
Du nahmst mich mir weg.

Du bist nicht alles,
das hab ich jetzt verstanden.
Ich war alles,
alles um zu leben.
Und nun ? Was nun ?
Hab meine Seele dir gegeben,
mit Hoffnung, Hoffnung,
dass du auf sie aufpasst, sie beschützt.
Doch jetzt verstehe ich.
Ich verkaufte meine Seele an den Teufel.
Ich fühl mich gebunden,
du bist im Besitz des meinen.
Geb' mich frei.


Und doch,
doch werde ich mich nie wiedersehen.
Ich bin weg,
schwebe wie eine verlorene Seele in unserem Universum.
Und nun ?
Du musst verstehen,
du existierst nicht mehr,
nicht wie vorher.
Also vergiss nicht,
verliebe dich wieder,
liebe mit all deinem Herz,
jedes Atom soll vor Glück sprießen,
aber vergiss mich nicht.
Leg deine Hände um dein neues Ich.
Liebe mich,
hege und pflege mich,
heiße mich mit offenen Armen willkommen.
Und wenn du mich fast verlierst,
dann schnapp mich,
halte mich fest,
so fest wie du kannst,
und lass mich niemals los,
niemals.
Jonas Aug 2023
Vor Gedichten und Gedanken
Weichen alle Schranken.

Freiheit sitzt dahinter, dort,
Jenseits der Verzweiflung
Wahre Freiheit ist:
Nichts mehr zu verlieren zu haben
Außerhalb von Halt
Singend, nicht schreiend
Im freien Fall.

Das macht sie so gefährlich.

Fallende Hunde bellen,
Laut.
Sie beißen zu,
Hart
Und oft ins Leere.

Ich falle auch,
Nur singe ich nicht,
Ich schreie auch nicht,
Bin lange schon verstummt

Fallende Hunde bellen laut
Und ich glaube ich verstehe.

— The End —