Heading HomeBitter-boned, I break and crumble to dustHeading Home3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
My pockets full of keys to places that no longer exist
An oystershell ashtray full of butts and ashes beside me
Testify to dreams of green hedges and white picket fences
A tapping on the door, a rapping on the wall
Ghosts always like this hour just before dawn
A bird screeches and I wake again to the stinging day
And shufflestep towards home from a thousand worlds away
German History Deutsche GeschichteGerman History Deutsche Geschichte3 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Die Geschichte der Deutschen - The history of the Germans
5000-4000 BC: Coming from the Caucasus mountains or South Russia, the Indogermanics conquer Europe. Later on they will split up in different tribes: Germanics, Celts, Slavs, Romanics, Greeks, Illyrians, Thracians, Baltics and some more in the middle east. The so called Aryans (old indogermanic for "noble") are also an indogermanic tribe and they conquered the middle east and most of India.
2000 BC: Germanics, Slavs and Celts have still a rather similar culture, they have nearly the same gods, languages and symbols. But soon they will develope own cultures.
1000 BC: The Germanics are now an own ethnicity, they live in South Scandinavia and North Germany. Greek and Roman writers will form the word "Germanen", which was actually the name of a rather small tribe. Ger = spear, Mann = man, the Men with spears.
They have a natural religion and believe in Gods like Odin, Thor, Freia, Baldur, Loki and in mytho
My DefectionSeparate in severanceMy Defection4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
A scar to blame
In the deflective avoidance
Despite the arrangement
The silence in motion
I don't belong here
Says one to the other
The confusion due to the arrival
The delicate definition
Cracks and pulls back
Deformed to my perception
Possibly with the intention to .
Delicately deformedAll deformities consist of illusionsDelicately deformed4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
As the veil slips away
All pales in constraint
And now ..
The disposable birth of reason
A view in terms of perception
A pause worthy of stagnation
A sigh of release
Determines the confrontation of perseverance
Silent screamsCrossing the threshold of this multiform planet.Silent screams6 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
What I see?
What I see between the dust and fog?
shapes that you draw in darkness,
faces that you carve into the air..
Am I perhaps to hell?
Continuing my journey...
Between arid scrubs and old trees find my bed.
Screams wildly wind.
And behold the old leaves that perform
In a real dance of death.
I rest house waiting for someone to save me
From this immense, eternal solitude.
Let me walk barefoot among the maze of your mind
and absorb the deep heat.
Fall to pieces sooner or later this fears,
that I have painted him..
on my gestures.. on my hands..
Everything I have is my soul that will be able to rebound me..
Scratching each resistance.
Gravity ClaimA wound to walk throughGravity Claim4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Either side of me
All that I leave behind
Discretion in motion
To predict the outcome of survival
A state of certainty
A primal instinct
I come closer yet
With a softened stare
That shall remain nameless
To shut out the world
To ease down
A passive glance
And into me
As all structures are repaired
I choose to stay here
As one outlines the other ..
Dislocation of fear.Back and to the leftDislocation of fear.4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
The contagious equation
I mourn for noone
Complications devoid of necessity
Uncertain of failure
The unavoidable distance
An impatient stain of delusion
To separate myself
From the unseen
Im not yet heard
Beyond the veil of recognition
I find myself in hiding
From the prevention of fear
My delicate essence
kids cut through the middlewhen you spend a summer somewherekids cut through the middle3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
where people squirrel away their
ugly children, it's hard not to notice
the subtle strain of the truth
on certain smarter faces,
or the absolute oblivion
in certain spinning eyes
and stumbling legs.
i met a girl named K,
with ankles like a deer and a voice
loud like noise and swampy like a swamp.
she liked orange foods and big words and
her hands shook like the girls in jazz class.
K clicked her tongue between words sometimes
but nobody ever mentioned it. her socks
were alphabetized. she carried a comb in her back pocket
but only 'cause she needed it, she said.
her hair was turning to snow and falling out,
she said. 'cause she pulled at it too much, she said.
she said other things, too, but i promised
never to write them. i promised not to tell
the bad things she'd done, the boy who kept her in, in, in.
she made bracelets of awful words at night and kept them
under her bed. she did it maybe so that even worse things wouldn't go bad.
Die Gedanken sind frei engl. translationDie Gedanken sind frei engl. translation4 years ago in Songs & Lyrics More Like This
The thoughts are free
Thoughts are free, who can guess them?
They flee by like nocturnal shadows.
No man can know them, no hunter can shoot them
with powder and lead: Thoughts are free!
I think what I want, and what delights me,
still always reticent, and as it is suitable.
My wish and desire, no one can deny me
and so it will always be: Thoughts are free!
And if I am thrown into the darkest dungeon,
all this would be futile work,
because my thoughts tear all gates
and walls apart: Thoughts are free!
So I will renounce my sorrows forever,
and never again will torture myself with whimsies.
In one's heart, one can always laugh and joke
and think at the same time: Thoughts are free!
I love wine, and my girl even more,
Only her I like best of all.
I'm not alone with my glass of wine,
my girl is with me: Thoughts are free!
Why I WriteI write for the readers,Why I Write5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
The ones who see with their minds.
I write for those who hope,
Those who wish,
Those who wonder.
Sometimes I write for the mad,
The ones who see things differently,
The ones who aren't afraid of the unknown,
The ones who dream by day.
I write for the poets,
I write for myself,
For my insane beliefs,
For my wandering mind,
An outlet for my thoughts.
I write for the singers,
Those who aways hear songs,
Those who can make music with anything,
Those who dance to unheard beats.
I write for the optimists,
Those who see only beauty,
Those who hear only wonderment,
Who feel only hope,
Who seek the brightness.
I write for the pessimists,
Those who see the darkness,
The ones who hear the cries,
Who wish they could hope,
Who cling to the shadows.
I'm stuck in the middle.
I don't write for publishers,
Unless they really hear me,
Unless they see my voice,
Unless they understand.
I write for the minority,
Those who don'
GhostThe dream shatters around meGhost3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Like a broken mirror.
Looking at the wreckage,
My reflection unrecognizable.
A broken image.
A broken heart.
I'm cut by the shards
As I try to piece it back together.
My blood sprinkles the surface
Like a red rain.
The mirror is whole again.
What's left of the dream.
I look at my reflection,
And tears finally begin to fall.
Hospital Collection: NamelessThere's an anorexic patient with meHospital Collection: Nameless6 years ago in Biography & Memoir More Like This
in the mental health ward.
I've never heard her speak
or touch her lips
to the plastic hospital food.
Her skull is wrapped in
the alien fingers of
a pale feeding tube.
And I wonder if she's still
the keeper of her soul.
Her wrists are as frail as
the silver threads
of delicate spider webs.
Her skin is fragile
I've never heard her speak
or touch her lips.
She's just another patient
(without a name).
Her eyes are lifeless,
And I wonder what that makes
who sees only
beautiful melancholythe dreams left a bitter aftertastebeautiful melancholy3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
that stained my day
like smoke making eyes water
long after the fire is put out.
sometimes i miss riding on trains,
when things were simple
and all i had to pay attention to
was the voice naming stations,
and all i had to listen to
was the clang of metal on metal
and all i had to look at
were the fields blurring in the windows
like the watercolor paintings i did as a kid.
because it was easier then,
traveling at a hundred miles-per-hour,
surrounded by suitcases
and people who averted their eyes and
turned up their ipods.
i think my DNA could have unraveled,
my atoms disintegrated,
my hipbones snapped and my spine shattered until
i turned into a pile of stardust,
and no one would have even glanced up;
i could have drifted out the window
into the mess of fields and sky without anyone
and this thought filled me with a beautiful sort of melancholy
that would last throughout the day.
but i don't ride the train anymore.
i'm just a me
Verbal TapestryWhen I was a small larva I couldn't wait to grow and become the last coin to drop in the slot or another way for people to ask for your money. Maybe the old bank is empty, empty as a poor man's piggy bank. When you're a man that repels money, you also repel the dreaded fruit flies, that hover the corpse of a dead dream, a dream about happiness and a little time left for the rabbit to eat a stingray. Tradition tells, that every rabbit should do that at least once in his life or he would have seen them coming to a halt. The nearby train scared the crows from the field. Because of that, I had to go hunting until daybreak. They never returned to sender, that is what the sticker on the box said. Maybe the address was typed for speed above all, but the other monks might sleep during the day, but in this place they carve until some poor sap can pay the boat driver or he will leave him standing with the beginning of it all.Verbal Tapestry4 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
the drifterthe drifter2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
i tried to tell you that Marley was a ghost,
but you wanted to walk with wings
across gleaming midnight.
How marvelous, this stone stands
sturdy and musty; this glorious church holding up a ticking sun
that slowly cracks the trippy stained glass.
you drilled way below the church stone,
and found dried palm leaves and old joints
like clues to the map of an exceptional life.
I love this torrential literature,
I love a racing heart.
i cannot sleep, i keep dreaming,
ezekiel's visions leave me breathless.
Take it up with the Big Man.
Surely the cannabis creator
must exude a presence that lingers on synapses.
i've lost my ability to fly.
a tender sky with reddening clouds,
the sights of death give birth to no life.
Well, I'm l
vices.there's hell in your eyes, painting them black cesspits that could eat away the stars.vices.3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
you tell me you need out of your head. the moon pulls higher in the sky, quietly marking the hour. our feet hang over empty air, the tracks below an open casket. you inhale nicotine and exhale burning buildings. smoke curls like fingers into the body of the night.
we're breaking like an ocean. eggshells on pavement.
i can't hold you together,
so you down handfuls of little white pills like peppermint candies.
like if you just keep swallowing, they'll whitewash the walls of your ribcage and purge your dirty heart.
you drink like you're always thirsty,
like you've found the antidote to forgetting.
instead, i hold matches to the dry tinder of my parchment skin to see if it catches fire
to burn down the gosttown of all the things i can't forget.
i dig trenches in my skin to leak out poison pulsing in my veins and the dirty swingset in my bones.
we both have memories we can't kill.
the black in our
two-fifty an hour.let me save you the trouble:two-fifty an hour.2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
because what i'm trying to say is
i'm not a good person.
i don’t tell valerie about how i planned to rekindle
my friendship with charlie’s best friend last year
just so i could get to him and hurt him.
(i don’t tell her how, in the end, i ended up liking
his friend instead, and charlie dated another
fifteen year old
because shit happens and what was i doing,
expecting things to go my way?)
there are certain things she doesn’t need to know,
certain things i can’t say because
putting it into words what it was like waking up,
that sort of shame that came with it –
it was like – it was like looking into a window
and swearing there’s a monster behind it
before, slowly, i realized
it was a mirror.
what therapy promises me: love yourself, forgive but
never forget, tell us your past
then let it go.
what i learn in therapy: nobody has all the answers.
we certainly don’t.
Suburbia.We don't need dreams here, in this house nearSuburbia.6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Someone plotted out our destinies for us,
drawing up maps and charts to tell us who to
love and when.
But not this, god I can't love this; this house on
the right that screams of sidewalks and
I can close my eyes and pretend you don't exist
anymore but the ticking of clocks drown out my
hopes in the silence; never have I been this
You bring with you the promise of hell and
marriage and lists of all the things I don't
believe in, but you're far too real now for me not
to believe in you.
At this point, no matter how fast I run or how
far I go, you're a weight in my parachute
dragging me back to the asphalt, infants and
diamonds falling from the sky.
I don't know what to say to the pleading eyed
boy when the curve of his nose reminds me of
you, and his hands on my waist feel just as
yours will. The future is poison in my
bloodstream and I can't form the words to tell
him he makes me smile, because he's painting
The Storyteller.Words burst from my fingertips likeThe Storyteller.4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Licks of fire, burning paper
Where they etch and score their
Meanings with absolute passion.
The faint, illusory scent of make-believe
Smoke surrounds me like a shroud:
An ensorcelled cloak, its hem stitched with a
Magical thread that imbues me with the
Power of words, its fabric dyed
Dark, shimmering with shades of ambition.
Creatures of all forms and ages begin to
Flit across my page with alarming clarity.
Voices - strident and shy, tenacious and meek -
All attempt to make their stories heard:
There are adventures to be spun in
Stimulating hues of royal blue and jade;
Romances to be told in the
Swelling notes of a sweet serenade;
Downfalls to be declared by the knell of
Death as he leads a doleful black parade.
Day after day, my Muse leads me from
Forest to meadow to coast to city, opening
Portals through which I can glimpse
Alternate realities and different lands altogether,
That I may understand the
Wonders of wor
N o v ai.N o v a3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
This distance between us
is devouring my lungs.
I'm left here gasping,
trying to suture back together
all the broken nights-
the cigarette burns in my bedsheets.
I'm tracing maps on my limbs,
and I'm painting black holes on my palms,
pressing them into letters
left on my nightstand
untouched and unread.
I keep telling myself
none of this is about you.
But I'm reaching for empty galaxies
as I try to remember what it felt like
to be one of a binary star.
Light-years away, and I'm here-
just another nova on your ceiling,
searching this vast universe for you.
mescalinewe raise bygone czarsmescaline2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
to walk amongst the living
like travelers in blue skulls,
& i am a preacher
made of offhand remarks &
long-healed headaches -
oh, the whole world is catatonic.
Insecuritiesi could tell you a million talesInsecurities2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
of when i stared into the abyss,
and drowned in the thrashing waves
of my own torturous thoughts,
that the dark crevices of my mind
began dragging me under
a sea of endless insecurities
imprinting on my bones.
GhostEvery nightGhost5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
there's a ghost
licking the floor boards
and you can't help
but love the sound
of weird thoughts waking
flowers rotting in their vase
that sickly sweet smell
is a whole new level of affection
Chatting with the cracks in the ceiling
old stories gather at the bottom
of your glass
And there's still many more to share
The night is young
we have plenty of time
Our taste on your lips
It's this kind of company
you enjoy the most