lies

lies

is it revolution

if i don’t want to talk?

is it the language of madness

if I just want to listen to a voice

but not to hear the words?

is it bourgeouis

if I want a hand

to hold

and an arm

to rest?

is it immoral

if I don’t want

to do

anything

at all?

i know

we are here to

communicate

i hate the word

it starts with the church

continues with politics

proceeds into the

world wide web,

there

eaten by spiders

I guess

there is always

somebody

who

defines

communication

i have done so much

i have talked so much

i tried

to

communicate

but what has it taught me

where did I go from there

and why

i am a liar,

i already talked too much

Loss

Loss

I went on

and on,

busy as a bee,

senseless.

I forgot to mourn

I went on

but I cannot.

I stop

and there is:

I don’t know.

I went to her grave.

She said:

Why don’t you stay

just a bit longer

I was frightened

but

I turned back

and stayed

just a bit longer

Then I left.

Life is not the same

now

but as before

the ground moves

all

the

time

Jerusalem

Bardo

BARDO

I think,

I don’t think.

I am inbetween

sleep and waking,

doing and not doing

hovering

between worlds.

I am  a ship

riding the tides,

I swing through an eddy,

catch a backcurrent

near an unknown shore.

Forgotten by the waves

I am here

and I am no more.

I cannot sleep,

I cannot wake

I see no stars

in the mirror of this night.

I see no sun

in this glaring day.

I hear no one

but blood thumping

 my eardrums

I grow roots in the air,

bleached by salt.

My heart drunken

 with blackness

 in this bottomless sea.

There is a  witch,

she stands in the door

but she holds not power

nor broom

I have no legs,

I cannot walk.

I have no wings,

I cannot fly.

In the birdless shadow

I cannot talk

nor sing

So much water

but I am dry.

The dance is finished,

the last echo of this song

gone in a silent wind

My desert needs rain

and a voice.

Then I may rise

with the clouds

and write on the walls