we need in life:
love from a few
respect from all

holding you
in my arms

our bodies
straining
to jump
into each other’s skin

our hands
following
the contours
of strangely familiar shapes
exploring
caressing
tenderly

our eyes
   closed
have abdicated
   to other senses
shutting out reality

our lips
touching
gently
then hungry

our ears
listening inward
to body sounds
   beyond hearing
a symphony slowly swelling
   in the rhythm
   of our heartbeats
bursting
   into a sustained crescendo

feeling
us

     * *

she takes care of you
and you are embarrassed
   because you want to be free

she pays for your studies
and you resent it
   because you want to be independent

when you are flat on your back
she flies in for the rescue
brings you home and nurses you
   back to life
and you hate her for it

because you know
you can make it on your own
   but will not do it
until
she sets you free

            * *

to leave your allies
who helped you achieve
your often-boasted victories

unprotected

against their well-known
overpowering enemy
is abominable betrayal

a crime most foul!

I sit
   all by myself
   again
and look out
   down upon the streets
cigarette in hand
a glass of wine upon the table
love's sweet exhaustion lingering in my bones
   and smell upon my skin
feeling so young and yet somehow so old

a late night bus drones by
and takes strange people
   to their desired stops
in a city
where I know only few
that could say
  yes  
  it's him

a woman with unsteady midnight gait
secretly walks her dog
into the public park
   both little more than blurs
   of bluish white and brown
   in the half-shadow
   of forbidden bushes

a couple leans entwined
   forever in a parting kiss
   upon the doorstep
unmindful of the plane
   that comes in low and loud
   before the landing

why is it that these moments
   seem eternal and yet
I sense the rush of time go fast
   and pass me by
   and her
   who sleeps next door

and leave us lost among our memories
of what was lovely
   and so beautiful
   before

          *

a pernicious old troll
with restless fingers
    and maybe also a mouse
still haunts the White House

for his last days in office
he spooks out of all bounds
sends millions into poverty
destroys protected grounds
obstructs where he can

desperate not to lose fans
    from his base that still dream
    that he won an election
he tries to make it seem
     like he still is in power

but many have gone sour
there is talk of defection
and crumbling are formerly
supportive actions

yet he still claims he’s won
fires those who don’t agree
is unable to see
that his time is gone

If you step on my toes,
I kick your shin

no collusion
is an illusion
to sow confusion
against factual evidence

my love is like a glowing rose
that grows in an ebony chamber
forever there to stay alive
forever to remember

forever to remember there
how strong once burned a fire
it fied the sun and blinded day
so high it dared aspire

some day a storm again
will blow through open doors
   will stir the slumbering ember
and raise a flaming rose of love
that burns the ebony chamber

When I consider how my days are spent,
with work that leads to work, with little time for meditation
except for a few moments, now and then
on trains, or planes, or in the car,
at times I feel our Western civilization,
may not have taken us so very far.

Not that I am ungrateful for electric light:
it eases one of our deepest fears -
of nights that cast a dazzling darkness on creation
until another sun returns it to our appreciation.

Yet I do wonder if our brilliant sight
derived from deftly harnessed natural powers
makes us indeed see more of that strange world of ours
than saw an old man's dimming vision under candlelight.

Remember: Good girls go to heaven, bad girls go everyhere!

shall I not grieve
to miss
your voice
your sight
the glint of mischief
   in a glance
   from half-closed loving eyes
your smile
   that lighted up my life
   more brilliantly than does
   the winter sun on snowy slopes
   outside the train
   taking me at this moment
   through the landscape of my youth
      and recently of our love
   to places where
      however much I'm looking
      for your face
   I know you will not be -

shall I not grieve?

my thoughts
   go wild
synapses flash
   in syncopated fright

left brain
   against the right

powers of reasons
battling fears
   unleashed
   from primal memories released
   by an unwatchful intellect
   relinquishing control
   in tired slippage
   at the end of day

I NEED YOU

the darkness of the mind
has gorges fathoms deep
with asphalt bitterness

tar babies of the soul
abound and toddle clumsily  
around in endless orbs
that neither know their center
nor their course

a ghastly crowd
   of orphans
floating by open doors
   unaware

you walk into my mind
   like irresistibly you walked
   into my life
also at unexpected moments

I catch a glimpse of beauty
   and feel you touch my cheek

looking at the screen
   I see your face
   return to me
   a loving smile

you sit beside me
   in your longish yellow dress
   when I am in my car

and when I fall asleep
   or wake up drowsily
   your presence
   hardens my desire
   and makes me catch my breath

the thought of you!

I deplane
   under a drizzling sky
and see little else but
rain clouds hanging low
over bare hilltops
  and a few wet apartment buidlings
  beyond the runway

knowing you are there
   I feel at home

           * *

the chandelier in the Venetian Room
   crystallized tears, perfectly shaped
   and transparent
alive with the glow of ancient candles
   reflected on mirror walls

I hear the mirrored gaiety
  of well-clad people

  imaginary music playing softly
    ancient tunes
  keen flashbulbs working
    to transfix the moment

I remember the separating laughter
  in the downstairs hall
  bland smiles and secret glances
words unspoken
occasions pass into history
  possibilities remain
forever

"And how rewarding to have had all
  of you here with us!"

Hugs, taxis, kisses, busses
  early breakfast
"Write to me", " Send me
  the photographs"

  "Of course"

imagine a world
with no humans left

without
    man-made sounds
    street noise  airplanes
    laughter shouting fussing babies
    cars  radios TVs machines
    pop songs string orchestras
    
instead
     birdsongs  leaves blowing in the breeze
     sounds of rain  of springs and rivers
     deer splashing through a creek
     wild pigs snorting through the forest
     the sharp cry of an eagle
     owls hooting under the moon
     anmals rustling in the underbrush
     ivy decorating empty window frames

imagine
    all those poems
    nobody can read

you work hard
   to do things right
and get kicked in the teeth
   ever so often
by people who cannot see
   beyond their pug-nosed selves

yet you continue
secretly hoping that
   somehow  sometime
someone will recognize
   your efforts

one day
   after yet another kick in the teeth
you decide you have had it

you do not stop trying

you just know
that you do

   not

   really

   need

their recognition

         * *

governments who fear to hear
the voices of their citizens
are well advised
to mend their ways

unknown morning birdsongs
make me aware
I am not home

when death comes closer
it can make our bones
show prominently
under taut skin
revealing
harsh edges
where before flesh
was softening our countenance

what sharpens our face
blunts our senses

   is this a friendly face
   familiar
   or just the shadow
   of an anonymous nurse
   doing her duty

words spoken
become difficult to understand
and to reply
a major effort

the touch
of a caring hand
feels sweet
but to respond in kind
   is almost impossible

between relief of letting go
and fears of the raw loss
of our world
decades of living bear us down
a sense of systems closing quietly
prevails

you wonder whether
you will see again
the friendly face
that says
   it will be back
tomorrow

you feel it
when you clutch your wrist
before you cut

remember

it's your only one

the time we spend
on sorting trivialities
one should not always
see as wasted

it can be a reprieve
     or an escape
from life‘s important questions
that tend to overwhelm us
now and then

solving our little problems
helps us establish
the much-needed illusion of order
in our life
encouraging us
to tackle bigger questions

my world of phantasy is one
where I can save the universe
by the sheer power of my will

my force of thought
deflects the course of meteorites and comets
from collision with our globe

I make rain forests grow
   back to their former size
endangered species
   thrive and multiply

my will turns greedy politicians
into statesmen caring for the citizens
that voted them into their offices

all military hardware
becomes food
to feed the hungry of our world

wars are duels
fought between leaders
of contending states
no young soldiers die
for ambitions of their elders

cars only need hydrogen
recycling is the way of life
water and wind and plants
provide infinite energy

people I hurt
do understand
it was not done on purpose

and I can even tell my children
how much I love them

alas
my world of phantasy

remains just that

I wish you all
most pleasant days
   no matter what the virus says

and that the year 2022
brings out the best
for me and you

      think positive, test negative

a better New Year to you all
reach for the skies, try not to fall !!

When your are undecided, remember:
The left is always right!

                  * *

strands of hair on white linen
some smooth, some curly

           * *

there are moments
when in the daily busy-ness
questions slink into our thoughts
making their way slowly
through the distracting perma-noise
of our world

     what will there be
     after all obligations
     tasks  projects  jobs
     are no more

do we fall
     into a blissful black hole

find ourselves stymied
     by the absence
     of the pressure
     to accomplish

do we slowly fade away
     feeling un-needed
      
maybe  
      luckily
find our private obsession
that keeps us occupied
until we breathe our last

who knows

in restless sleep
under a full moon
the mists of rain
swarming with demons
of the hidden soul
I keep dreaming
   I hear
the ringing of the telephone

my lifeline
to my beloved
so distant   and yet
almost painfully close
behind my half-closed eyes

so I stumble down
stairs in the dark
grab the receiver
and listen
   with freezing heart
to echoes
   of silence

           * *

time & space contract
into one single
   flaming
    point

blazing its way
through future memories

of will have been
has been
and of was

brilliant star
on a night journey

          * *

predators of the soul
strike at the unexpected hour
having stalked their prey
for days and weeks and months

suddenly
the sun looks wan
and you know
they are there
waiting

when they attack
it’s almost a relief
and yet
the struggle is
for life
or death

the beast of the jungle
is very strong

it is that other side
of your core
that rears its head
in dark moments

even on a day
like this one
   when

   with all the blue sky
   and the sun

life suddenly
looks grey in grey

so different
from the day before

I do love you
even more

   *  *  

the  air-conditioned railjet takes me
with strangely whincing wheels
through winding tracks
along the mountains of my youth

clouds are hanging low
    after recent rainfalls
fog shrouds the forest hills
    in mystical silhouettes
rises slowly from the valleys
revealing an old castle here
     a younger hotel there

the next stop announces
     my birthplace
today's wet greenery passing by the window
makes me wonder what it was like
almost seventy years ago
     two years after the end of a war
     that destroyed many places on the globe
     and killed fifty million people
for my mother to give birth to the first
     of two sons
with a husband who
     at the age of 21
had just made his way
      not quite nine months before
escaping from a Soviet POW camp

     took him and a friend one month
     walking by night
          hiding by day
     through all of Poland
     to end up in a British field hospital
     from which they fled
           gratefully
     when they had regained some energy
     jumping trains from northern Germany
          to eastern Austria
     coming home just before Christmas 1946

and as my hometown disappears in fog and rain
I hear the muted noises of the high-tech train
     now on a steady downhill track
musing how easy my own life has been
no wars, dictatorships, catastrophes

how we are born into a world
so different from our parents‘
raised by their words and values
to make our way

Especially in bad times, giving up is not an option!

voted out of office
with over 7 million votes more
     and a clear majority in the electoral college
for his opponent

the sore loser
has turned Zombie influencer

desperately clinging to tatters
of dwindling power

poplar branches
embrace steel-blue clouds
so they would not
    driven by thunder and lightening
tear off their tender arms

the trees bend daringly
and you anticipate
to hear the hissing sound
of splintering wood

it does not happen
their postures grow ***** again
clouds disentangle themselves
and continue their wild chase
for other arms

survived once more

Be careful what you wish for - you may get it.

times are
when words seem
to have lost
their power
to be spoken

they stubbornly refuse
   to form
on the same lips
from which they flowed
only a heartbeat
ago


difficult words
they have become

I love you

forgive me

I love you

shadows of distant knowledge
   vaguely unfamiliar
eluding shapes
   never redeemed
crowd suddenly
   and make a whole

   instantly gone

          * *

at times it seems
your future might be little else
but treasured memories
from your receding past

open the door, look outward,
let some light shine in
and remember

your life goes forward
not back

me is you
you are me
for a while it felt  to be

bliss and shine
we were fine
sailing on life‘s endless sea

came some storms
ship got worms
wrecked on islands we can‘t see

you are you
I am me
lonely lovers they shall be

be honest

do you always
like yourself
   your partner
   all your friends
   your job

do you feel
at times
that you are quite abominable
   your friends are boring
   have turned into enemies
that your beloved has become
   an obligation rather than the joy of your life
and that your job is just
   a never ending treadmill

if all of the above applies
then it is time to take
   a step or two
   back from the everyday

look at yourself
as from a mountain top
and honestly acknowlegde
that you belong
   to the seven billion people
   on this globe

who struggle

right in the eye
of history
I walk
among the crowds
that taste
the absence of confinement

an unfamiliar space

between the band stands
on the avenues
where people
test a freedom
newly won
still strange
as yet in need
of daily reassurance

crossing and recrossing
the big gate
and the bridges
that for generations
connected nothing
marked divisions kept
   by guns and barbed wires
   and well-lit empty spaces
   between walls
   watched from towers

the new reunion
brings happy smiles for most
   quiet tears for some
new doubts for many
who  are uncertain
now
about their lives together
after decades
of separation

right in the eye
of history I walk

just now and then
a little bit afraid
that she might
rub her eye

just now

one day in May
it felt like April
    cold in the morning
    raining at lunch time
    hot in mid-afternoon
    cool in the evening
    frosty at night

nature sure has its peculiar ways
and our weather services struggle
to predict and understand

summer rain
pouring down in strings
   suddenly
washes over
   the pain of many years
softly flows over the scars
soaks the old scabs
carrying them away

opening rain

it makes me sigh
   deeply
makes me remember
   moments of love
   hate
   passion
   despair

washing out
  sediments of bitternesses
  from ancient layers
  of thought and memory

it lights my desire
to again live fully
    look into a world of rain
   with fiery eyes

             * *

now with a seven before the zero
I know that I am still no hero
just lucky to have lived so long
     and happy to go on
     for many years
before they sound the final gong

you think that everything
is under control

that you have planned with care
and great consideration

then suddenly
some miscommunication
plus incidental elements

throw in a solid wrench
that reveals
how fragile
the strands of finely woven plans
will always be

the tiredness in my bones
at times is almost overwhelming

it feels existential
lodged deeply somewhere at my core

that center of my life
   wherever it is
seems to gain distance
step by step
from the world’s busy-ness
makes me consider things
   like from above
and at the same time
narrows down my vision
   to my basic needs

what do I care about
   the hungry dead in Africa
the Asian victims of typhoons and floods and mudslides
or who becomes chancellor or president etc.

I focus on myself
mulling the question
whether I have a mission in my life
whether there is a destiny
   that needs to be fulfilled
or fate to be resigned to
or if it’s better to catch each day
   as if it were my last
   experience life to the brim
   as long as possible
   and die in the midst of it

at times
I wonder & ponder
yet shy back
from any definite conclusion
hesitant to fall into a groove
that lead me
to a too predictable
end

           * *

the power of the word
made our world
it alone can also save it