recently
after every massacre
by some fanaticized pathological idiots
politicians call upon their citizens
to come together
and pray for the murdered and their families

this is absolutely appropriate

but it seems
that ever since 9/11
the nation only comes together
AFTER more of its members have been killed

I wish very much
that the nation
   AND politicians
would come together
BEFORE  the next massacre
and take appropriate action
to prevent such disasters
in the first place

you want to build a wall
to make it high and tall
to keep them out
them all
you fear because they call
with different voices
different words
wear different clothes
in brighter colors
have darker skin  
and
who knows
may have darker souls within

and you don‘t see
they only flee
from terror and lethal poverty

desperately hoping
that the Statue of Liberty
still remembers her promise

sometimes I wonder why I bother
to force myself to tell an other
what are my feelings and opinions

why do I struggle to attempt to phrase
words that inhabitants of faraway dominions
might also understand and not erase
an alien text for lack of recognition
of what it tries to say

is it just egomaniacal vanity
born of conviction that my words
are so important that only nerds
would not appreciate the wisdom
inherent in my thoughts

or is it logorrhea   the pathological obsession
to spew forth words without control
and flood the world and every living soul
with streams of incoherent syntax without meaning

I guess I write in order to communicate and share
exchange ideas across all boundaries
learning the thoughts of many different people
and in the process become even more aware
how much we share and have in common

carrying away once more the recognition
that division has always been
      and still remains until this day
the favorite tool of greedy politicians
against which poets   firmly   should hold sway

quietly
over the past week
a gentle autumn sun
has painted colored leaves
upon the ground
and thinned
the bright abundance
of the wooded ranges

most of the harvest
is securely stored by now
or sold at morning markets
by weathered men and women
in their country garbs

vintners are busy with their lots
fermenting grapes
and entertaining those
who see their visit
as pleasant pastime and escape
from daily urban chores

hunters and lumbermen
are waking up
to shoot and mark

schools by this time
have settled into the new year
teachers are happy still to share
the knowledge of our world
with students still inclined
to listen

businessmen, remembering their vacations
on the Bahamas or in Saint Tropez
step sprightly into offices
womanned by secretaries dreaming secretly
of beautiful Mallorca summers
and those never-ending nights
at the Algarve

I guess it is a human thing
to find a new beginning
at the time when nature’s breath
goes easy
to collect the strength
for yet another fruitful year

Or were it better
that we also took a rest?

they are infinite in number

from our most frightening childhood dreams
to terrible nightmares in our later years
born from guilt, disillusionment, trauma, shame

they glare at us all of a sudden

apropos nothing they flash into our minds
disrupt what little peace we may have found
in our busy lives

when they arise from their sealed chambers
undo the locks we put on them
    to keep them quiet and remote

we have to face them
    eye to dreadful eye
    face to frightening face

then   gradually

    surprise

the closer our  stare
the more we are aware
that all these faces share
what we find hard to recognize

they look
    quite disconcertingly
like us

maybe we should
    rather than banish them away
acknowledge them  as what they are

the different facets of our selves
that we present to our world
from day to day

the distance
between obsession and obligation
can be amazingly
short

From the hodge porridge
of their country lust,
their local life in Illinois,
where all their acres look
like a sprouting broom factory,
they name just ten years now
that she has been his habit;
as again tonight he'll say
honey bunch let's go
and she will not say how there
must be more to living
than this brief bright bridge
of the raucous bed or even
the slow braille touch of him
like a heavy god grown light,
that old pantomime of love
that she wants although
it leaves her still alone,
built back again at last,
mind's apart from him, living
her own self in her own words
and hating the sweat of the house
they keep when they finally lie
each in separate dreams
and then how she watches him,
still strong in the blowzy bag
of his usual sleep while
her young years bungle past
their same marriage bed
and she wishes him *******, or poet,
or even lonely, or sometimes,
better, my lover, dead.

who does not like the feeling
that we are all protected
by our guardian angels

however

as the ancient Greeks
    and after them
Benjamin Franklin & others
maintained

God helps those
who help themselves

write a thank-you note
to that woman
in her simple blue dress

talk to your daughter
about important things
of life (= herself )

tell your parents
that you actually love them

have a long chatty walk
with your son

speak out loud
how lovely your partner
looks every morning

start jogging 5 km at least
every other day

give flowers to the secretary
for all those little things
she just keeps doing for you

have a long and patient talk
with your grandparents

love yourself
just a little more

and take better care
of yourself
before ...

has been appreciated
      over centuries
proven by epigrams and haikus

but the technology
      of our time
has made it mandatory
to express yourself
     in as few words as possible

in order to save
      space & time
on smartphone screens
throughout the world

no matter how transmogrified
     thinking may have become
by this enforced simplicity

complexity of thought
has gotten out of fashion
and even nations‘ leaders
have fallen back
on simple black & white
intentionally abusing
the KISS principle

you know you have reached advanced maturity
when the most exciting nightly event
is falling down the stairs in the dark  and
surviving with only minor cuts and bruises

on the first day of spring
my mother died

she had always loved flowers
and had turned
our interior hallway
into a luscious greenhouse
   father was not always happy
   about the falling leaves

in her later years
when skiing was no longer hers
she hated winters
   their long nights
   their waning sun

she was always longing
   for spring
waiting for the day
the morning sun lit up
the kitchen desk again
in her parents’ house
where she was born
   and had grown old

the night before
I had called and told her
that here in the south
the first flowers were already
   dotting the gardens

she had smiled on the phone
   almost inaudibly
speaking had become difficult

   maybe her last images
   were of colorful spring meadows

today at 7.10 a.m.
my mother died

spring has come

over two billion people
these days are waiting to commemorate
the birth of one whom they consider
humankind‘s savior

it happened more than 2000 years ago

since then it has not really been established
from what he has saved us

looking at our history
does not help much either

maybe this is a good thing
such indeterminacy can be quite uplifting

after all
who does not like to be saved?

after every massacre
by some fanaticized pathological idiot
politicians call upon their citizens
to come together
and pray for the murdered and their families

this is absolutely appropriate
also absolutely inefficient

but it seems
that ever since 9/11
the nation only comes together
AFTER more of its members have been killed

I wish very much
that the nation
   AND politicians
would come together
BEFORE  the next massacre
and take appropriate action
to prevent such disasters
in the first place

listening to the not so enticing news
that basically tells us that authoritarian idiots
are on the rise  
     globally

that neither the US nor Europe
are able to handle refugee flows
the proper legal and humanitarian way

that global warming is actually happening
and not just an invention of the Chinese etc.
    in order to misle U.S. American billionaires

that in the future
thanks to advances in technology
only experts in very sophisticated laboratories
will be able to  recognize the difference
between fake news and real news

I DO worry about the world
my grandchildren grow up into

he has blood on his hands from Yemen
surrounds himself only with yeah-men
leaves his allies deserted
boasts he has converted
all ISIS to civilized laymen

If you want breakfast in bed, sleep in the kitchen!

the year is new
most wishes old
and have been told before

yet hope dies last

and so  
    my HP friends
let‘s have a blast
    offer a toast    
    to all times past
and a hearty cheer
    to the incoming year!

creates our universe
our gods
makes armies clash
defines our world
    always again and new
names everything
   we then can talk about

lets politicians sound as if
    they were our saviors
lends voice to protests
    also well-phrased obedience
articulates all complicated laws
    and sometimes even makes them clear
makes us hate people
    or fall crazily in love with them

more difficult, it seems,
is to find words for our hearts and souls

    how to express your love
    appropriate to the occasion

    or to describe a painting by Degas,
    Rubens, Kokoschka, Michelangelo,
    the impact of a symphony
    or a performance on the drama stage
    
to catch the words for what we feel
is much more difficult
than to imagine those for what we see

it is the poets’ challenge to give shape
to all the hopes, loves, fears, and phantasies
in our lives

so we can make the power of the word
the power of the world

hardly a day goes by
without the news
of yet more suicide attacks
that **** mothers and children
     innocently playing in parks
     listening to their favorite songs
friends chatting over tea and coffee
expectant travelers on their way
     to business  family  or lovers

the perpetrators of such deeds
must be a very lonely crowd
with eyes as empty as their hearts
and frozen souls that harbor the illusion
       that cowards will turn heroes
       that killing innocents is brave
       that the world will recognize their great importance
            when they bring ****** ends to happy lives

it will not come to pass

no peace
     in this   or any other world
can find its way to them
who ****** in cold blood

there seems to be no end
of armed cowards killing peaceful civilians
about to do their jobs or visit friends and chat
at airports  in the underground or in cafés

and then acknowleding full responsibility
for that grandiose achievement
of putting electric wires into some explosives
and sending innocent people to their death

these self-styled martyrs claim
their deeds are prompted by religious ends
and not the simply joy of killing those
     who have no arms for their defense
    and are quite unaware they have become the targets
     of delirious murderers who seriously imagine
     their heinous crimes could please their god
     and   if they blow themselves away together with their victims
     would send them straight into a paradise
     with many earthly and some heavenly rewards

or so they say

watching them over all these years
I have my doubts
that any god has business with those guys
    or they with him

     like other groups before them they abuse religion
     to justify their greed and power games
     god for them is simply a façade
     to mask their inhumanity

it’s time the world says a concerted NO
and makes it clear to all barbarians of our century
that our tolerance
is not for them

once again
    this time in Georgia
communities of color
saved democracy
from spiraling into
violent authoritarianism

in spite of armed white mobs
     incited by the president's men
breaking into the nation's capitol
looting and destroying
interrupting certification hearings
forcing members of congress
    to seek sheltered places
killing a policeman
causing five more deaths

the scenes
shocked the world
and most U. S.  citizens

america has become small again
no more a beacon of democracy
just another banana republic

in a real democracy
citizens cast their votes
and then respect
certified election results

for me
  
    ever since my mother died
    on the day spring began
    eleven years ago

my joy over the annual reburgeoning of life
also evokes the memory of death

I know
death is unique and final
     spring is eternal

but all the lovely flowers sprouting forth
always remind me of my mother’s love
of flowers and all other natural beauties
like sea shells  pine cones  precious stones …

maybe it was appropriate
    after all
for her to leave this earth
when it brought forth new life again
    bursting into renewal
as if to compensate us
for our loss

listening to the news
one really gets the blues

in all their great meetings
    after cordial greetings
world leaders disagree
    for one reason or other

seems they don’t really bother
‘bout what should be their goals

    not to save their own souls
    but the folks in our world

the children all curled
    with pain in their belly
civilians burned dead
    with gasoline jelly

the women attacked for
    (a lack of) their clothing
as if there were nothing
more important than keeping
some men from their peeping

but what really matters
are the people in tatters
who flee from bombed homes
in despair and have come
    to realize
that their possible demise
does not affect those
who’d rather smell a rose
than seriously bother
about the fate of an other

tragedy unfolds every day
yet it holds little sway
in the news of the powers
that makes sure that ours
is different from theirs

until that dream sours
we need to write some
more encouraging verse

on an enchanted summer evening
the world feels wonderful and meek

why do I still crave more
     than I can feel and seek

why do I need to go beyond the pastoral
    trust the smooth surface
     of this world
     only for blissful moments

feel almost something like relief
when daily imperfections
crowd me again and throw me hard
into the maelstroem of those obligations
that have accumulated over years
tell me I have matured and know
what all life really is about

but also loudly shout
     I do not know
the meaning of my life

yet I envision in the hour of my death
my last breath will flow easy  
      with no strife

remembering the summer evening
I‘ve spent my life to seek

so wonderful …
      and mild …
            and meek ...

when in the world’s leading democracy
a new president starts his office with

     making life more expensive for average home owners
     signing orders threatening the health of millions
     restricting the publications of researchers
     denying global warming
     encouraging coal and oil companies
     forbidding federal employees to talk to the media
     going on fantasy trips about “alternative facts
          to justify his ridiculous lies
     ordering to build walls to keep out all those aliens,
          like the old Chinese did, to little avail
     issueing poorly formulated presidential orders
          causing confusion and harm and even deaths
     banning even green card holders from entering the country
     filling his cabinet with all the alligators from the swamps
          he promised to clean during his campaign
          people who know how to avoid paying taxes and beating the system
          but have no clue how to govern now that they ARE the system
          and think they can run the govnerment of the USA
          with its 350 million citizens
          as Trump&Cronies; USA, Inc.,
          like their private family husiness for profit

it is high time to seriously ask
what concept
    if any
of democracy he has in mind

old letters  postcards  color slides
entries in diaries  drafts
of letters maybe never sent
fill boxes after boxes after boxes
left to me by my parents and their ancestors

going through them
I sort out letters  documents certificates
prayer books with scribbles on the margins
school grades  awards  old birthday wishes

of all the photographs I only keep the ones
on which I recognize the faces
those of the strangers I have never known
     and never will
I ditch
together with the many color slides
of mountains I have never climbed
     and never will
and of my parents friends whom I don‘t know
     and never will
with whom they somewhere spent good times

all these were part of my dear parents universe

in my world they mean nothing
have no significance beyond allowing me
to glimpse selected moments of the lives of those
who‘ve come before me and have gone
disappearing quietly
     into the mists of history

leaving blurred views
      as through a frosted window
about their pleasures  loves  anxieties  
catastrophies and tragedies

     enough to tease imagination
     too pale for certainties

hints from the past

sitting on the loggia
watching the rain come closer
with thunder and lightening
counting the seconds
     between the flash and the rumbling
enjoying the spectacle
     of brilliant spidery fingers
     illuminating the evening sky
each a different shape
     followed by its own soundblast
the noise of the rain
     growing louder and harsher
     with heaviness
bending the branches of trees
     roses and lilies to the ground

simply fascinating

I am the night owl
flapping its wings
stealthily through your dreams
with a soft  feathery touch
    you may remember
       you once imagined
like the figure at the end
    of the corridor
    whose face always remains
    in the shadow

I am the sower of images
   growing from the dark
touching your mind gently
tapping at forbidden doors
   closed to the brighter hours

I am the prowler of twilight thoughts
that lend shapes
     to your hopes
     and fears and desires
living their lives
     in between

I am the night owl
that shudders
    and folds its wings quietly
when the sun rises
    always too soon
patiently waiting again
until the day is done

* *

this time in Vienna
in my little nation's capital

a young Muslim still in search of himself
believes he has a mission
to **** as many infidels as possible
to avenge insults to Mohamed
and Allah by all those secular Westerners

armed with attack rifle  handgun & machete
he shoots his way through the Vienna party mile
not knowing whom he attacks
killing four  wounding twenty-three
driven by his duty to defend Allah

never questioning why the Almighty would ever need
to have his infinite greatness defended
by a confused youngster's shooting of innocents

it takes us years
to find out how our body works
what it can feel, smell, touch, see, hear
how we can move its limbs
what hurts it, what makes it feel  good

more years are spent
discovering the fathoms of our soul
from murky depths to lofty heights
the scales of feelings, pain, excitement
     love, joy, jealousy, despair,
all our nuanced sensitivities

then we explore
the layers of our mind’s infinite potential
its constant work of making sense
    from the reports of all our senses
so we believe we understand our worlds,
imagine new ones, phantasize about the old

when after all these years
we harbor some illusion
our long experience might be enough
     to straighten all confusion
chances are good we recognize
that all we are is knowledge-misers

we have grown old, but not much wiser

our kisses
   are desperate
      and wild

we cling
as if we did not
trust reality

and need a while
before our minds
   follow the warmth
   of our bodies

when the majority claims the need
to violently fight for its minority rights
something is rotten in this nation

the problems of mice and men
were supposedly cared for by THEM
except that THEY never
were sufficiently clever
and things ended up all the same

I slept too long
do not know why
had my coffee at 9am
doomscrolling the news
on assorted media
(inter)national
        same difference

did not brighten my mood

the same idiots
spew the same phrases
they voiced one month ago
nothing has changed

and they call it progress

we do not really know
what to expect of times to come

those who dare say they do
are more or less intelligently speculating
and their assumptions usually don‘t exceed
foggy predictions read from crystal *****

so what?
the problem is not really new
all our ancestors
     some more desperate than others
were longing for the certainty
they thought would go with knowledge
of all things as yet to come

     fact is we have survived without it
     for some million years

even if our digitized society
     obsessed with quantifying everything
     from time to work to *** to pleasure
seems mortally in fear of lack of data
     about the future

the one thing we can say for sure
is that life will be different
because the only constant in our world
is change

     know it
     and get on

once upon a time
the presidents
of the self-declared beacon of democracy
did not feel the need
to bully everybody
with threats and insults

they led the nation
by shining democratic example

remember…?

the ominous track
on a white surface

a trace of
other possibilities
   in evolution?

or simply
   a sign of life
so totally different
   imagined
yet beyond imagination?

a footprint
   on a white surface

leading elsewhere

        * *

light
from the lit windows
   of the hurrying train
streams out
and instantly disappears
   into the darkening landscape
   through which I travel

I do now know
   where it goes
   what scene it may
   happen to illuminate

sometimes
when we stop at a station
   pass a town
   or a row of cars
   waiting at the crossing
we are receivers
   of the light of others

so we speed through the world
receiving some
and sending flickers of light
   into space
to unknown destinations

           * *

a thousand apologies more will not
make spoken words unheard

space&time;
narrow
to the moment
IT
may happen

nothing
proceeds
beyond that point

the whole universe
folds
into one compact dot

a cosmic black hole
whose invisible energy
holds promise
to burst forth
in brilliant stars of

salvation
elation
liberation

another big bang

this time

maybe

with a whimper

after a tasty  lunch
& and extensive joyous afternoon chats
     with her women friends
while he was doing the dishes
she had no words left for him

so they started
       their smart phones and Kindles
and relaxed in their separate worlds

if we could
be someone completely different

at least for a while

child to adult  woman to man
asylant to millionaire  president to farmer
human to animal or tree

or vice versa

we can imagine all this
in our phantasies and virtual worlds
yet we are missing essentials

to BE a mouse  a bear  a shark
a president  a film star  a tree
is to feel  think  sense  suffer
live in their alien worlds

maybe even understand

at least for a while

Believe me, the only constant in our lives is change.

is not the question

when we have thoughts
we think we should put down
make known to the wide world

we often hesitate
ponder if it is worth the while

afraid of being shunned
called names
et cetera
by people who believe they know
how proper writing should be done

welllllllll ….

I believe if one makes all the effort
to tell us how s/he feels and thinks
all we should do is

LISTEN!

some say
the world is out of kilter

others predict
that things are always getting worse
and humankind is doomed
to some terrible  
    though unspecified  
fate

yet others see the second coming
of their god within their lifetime

    somehow
    ‘no future’ seems to be
    the fashion of the day

what if
     rather than just complain
     about how wrong things are
     feel sorry for ourselves
     and conjure up the end of our days
we take some action
don’t leave decisions in the hands
     of corporations and ‘professionals’ and the 1%
    of politicians who are puppets
    of lobbyists and billionaires

what if
     the 99% wake up and cast their votes
     in their own interest
rather than that of candidates
     who eloquently advocate
     simple solutions for complex problems
     showing
          without knowing it
     that they really have no clue
     what they are talking about
    
what if
     we decide to elect leaders
     who actually drink the water they are preaching
     who after they’re elected also walk their talk      
     stick to their programs
     keep their promises
     to make
           with our help
    the world a better place

what if ……

the days go by in pleasant routine
only occasional disturbances
     with grandkids  unexpected visitors
     the mailman ringing at the door
          because the letter would not fit the box
     the neighbor asking for a favor gladly granted
     someone who wants to sell some things

the days go by
      preparing meals  go shopping
      splitting the firewood
      running the wash
      checking the email
      go swimming and do AquaFit
      occasionally have a lunch with friends

the days go by

and I occasionally wonder
about the undesired goal of passing all that time
as days go by

you are
   so far
the only person
who made my eyes
fill with bright
shiny tears
   of joy
when we first met
like sea and earth
under a southern sky

a moment out of many
  shared forever  
crystal-clear
   untouched
by darker memories

          * *

to hold
the other's happiness
higher than your own

to lie in each other's arms
trembling with joy

always tell the whole truth
even though it may hurt

try to really listen
to each other's words

stand by each other
in times of sorrow

love the children
like your own

love each other as
you love yourselves

say it
when you need time for yourself
before the world falls apart

escape from the quotidian
with a sudden caress

on doors closed for a while
   rap gently

tell tenderly
each other's fears
and smoothen the frowning brow
with kisses

think of the little things
at breakfast

understand contradiction
as the sign of life

   only the dead
   contradict nobody

   not even themselves

when you have the feeling
the world is going on without you
no matter what you think or say
     or write
it’s better that you take
backward a step  or two   or three
look at yourself and what you’re doing
and simply cool it

you may agree with it or not
the world keeps turning
life is going on

unless you seriously want a change
and start a revolution