positions

had all of them, positions,
just cannot bend my bones
nor my heart, but a fuck
in the head is painful

i had it, o holiness, love,
my third eye got
all blurred, i tell you,
deliciously perverted,

a torture turning
desire to headache,
the body dangling
from a noble soul

a brainwash for
kisses,  orgasms
shredded for dogs,
embrace for sadness

had all of them, positions,
attitudes, pains and kicks,
went for a bath, for fresh air,
finally found: no.

and found yes.
no to mind fucks,
yes to me
and to this day.

no more prisons,
no traps, just my
normal fucking days,
to eat, to shit, to sleep.

well, maybe i should write like Bukowski? 
no. i won't imitate.
just sometimes..i  write bad poems ....
should be silent. better.

nothing personal

as i had most time

no name to call me

it is nothing personal

i am here

uncalled

i talk to the night

i tell her

please

send me an owl

to say my name

or a fox

to cross my way

and stop me

walking past

it is nothing personal

everybody talks about

peace

but i am not included

i am the one

left on the battlefield

to fight on

for a prayer

to nobody

but for love

and fairytales

it is nothing personal

when my skin cracks

and blood flows,

my ancestors

ride the clouds:

i cannot even cry

but it doesn't matter

when i go to die

there is only

sky

purify my soul: hmm hmm hmmm

purify my soul,
i ask from me.
life purifies me,
love purges

and suffering
cleans
my inside out.
and all leaves

what is not needed
on the ground,
the riverbed
filled with stones

it is as if
i carry too many kinds
of marbles and rocks
and i don't know

did i pick them
or did they fall
into my bag?
i see myself

heavy, a liar,
mean and noisy,
howling at night,
crying with longing

but i know i am free
nobody is possessed
by another one:
i just want to be home

throw away my weight
and sing to you
when you take me
in your arms

hmm hmm hmmm
i will wash my face
and put the kettle on:
it is time for our coffee

my love,
the birds are up,
the sun is out,
hmm, hmm, hmmm


my god: i leave it,
it is a shit poem, but i like it,
somehow it is  true this way

this is not a good poem, just how i feel

do i call this home,
a place of loneliness
growing next to solitude
yes. it is my home

the cat watches my steps,
purrs on my lap
until he scratches,
just a wee bit, for love

there is nobody but me
and imagination, dream.
it is as it is.
after all, i am filled

with the fragrance of flowers,
filigrane leaves against light,
not only my hopeless heart
which must always be strong

i cannot be, nobody can.
i could be more like steel
resilient as a knife's blade.
i could be more like water

which closes over your hand
as if nothing was there.
but my blood sings another song,
my heart tells me to dare,

my brain to despair,
but i will not, will not.
i walk, i dream, i sleep,
nobody will know.

my insufficiencies
make me modest,
as much as i can be,
more i cannot see.

i do not know from where
my kindness flows, it does,
but so does the turmoil,
the storm, the thunder

so does the rain, i must
bear who i am and grow
until i am a tree, bent, old,
ready to burst and to fall,

to rot and feed the soil,
the grass and the bushes,
the flies and the birds,
a last song, a final dance

and then the wind
will take my dust
to the skies,
to the sea.

de-struction cannot be all

many ways to destroy

and de-struct

oneself

amphetamine, cocaine,

ecstasy, ketamine

partner swapping,

group sex

until only nausea,

disgust, revulsion

remain

was it a taste for

slavery or rebellion

or just a wish to die

who knows.

i don't.

i don't want to know.

i wish ...

i'd live in a world

where people are not

in need to feel

that nothing left to lose

is freedom.

it is not.

this is not a fight nor about guilt

for a long time now

i thought something

may be wrong with me

i went to see

i defended myself

instead of being me.

i felt like a kite on a string

held by somebody who

does not know who

she is or wants to be

and might just let go

any moment now or later

it doesn't matter so 

much anymore, i can fly,

and i decided to be me

and say what i want

even a few weeks ago,

i was just and truly me.

and really, it is true,

even to wish out

is to be present,

as this has happened

it was true, to be true

is to be present

i see you and i see me,

i see only what i can see.

i wish to find a space

for peace and us

where we can both live

in our flow,two rivers

to join and go

to our final sea

Dear Mrs. Houdini

To escape
is an option,
to houdinize
out of closed cages.

to jump off
bridges and clouds,
to walk on the head
across the ocean.

to want the im-possible
and do it,
because who knows
what is possible.

it must be good
to grow
under the snow
and to breathe inside vacuums.

to fly like a sparrow
in the morning sky.
to swallow an arrow
and  to pass metal and sorrow.

it all will be shown
towards the end
as a trick,
magical technique.

my vision is clear,
i shall not be transformed
but in another's mind.
later to ashes of a kind

but only when i die.
until then i try,
Mrs. Houdini,
now it is me

who sits on the dock,
still fumbling the lock,
the heart rising
to greet  freedom.

and a grin and a smile
will go round and round
because even together
how can two escapists be bound.

Magician Among the Spirits

well, it is not my best poem, but it was fun.
Mrs. Houdini knows who she is.

Worskhop in bad poetry: Schlechte Gedichte

Ich kann auch schlechte Gedichte.

Z.B.:
Guten Tag, Frau Maier
Ich hätt gern ein Dutzend Eier!

oder:

Ist es wahr: unter grünem Loden
hängen Wildschweinhoden?

und:

Ein Mann wird brav und recht,
wird sein Trieb nur schlaff und schlecht

Politischer aber immer noch schlecht:

Ein Mann kam trunken vom Oktoberfest
nach Hause noch soeben vor das eigne Nest
Er wachte auf im Sarg
Die Luft war etwas karg
Ein Korkenzieher steckte ihm im Schädel fest

Und was ist die Moral von der Geschicht
für einen Bayern:
Bleib beim Bier.

Oder sauschwäbisch:

Meine Rengela hend Schnecka gfressa,
Jetzt kannsch die Rengelessalb vergessa

Moral: Will nix hergeben.
Hat noch Ringelblumensalbe im Schrank!

Mit der Kommentarfunktion könnt ihr lieben Leser
bei mir schlechte Gedichte bestellen,
aber ihr dürft mir auch welche schicken!