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!
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
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 ..
ProdaneA silent look of recognitionProdane4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
As all that is left
Remains to be seen
As silence forms denial
Will you remember to forget me
As I pass on through to the otherside
Faces inward to escape itself
To push through to another
No longer relevant
As I dissolve myself
To become only you.
NightmareI lurk in the lands of dreams,Nightmare6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I am there behind the dancing butterflies,
Behind your imaginary lovers embrase,
I am in her soft kiss.
I lurk in the land of perpetual hope,
Of limitless oportunities.
I am despair.
I am death.
The flickering light of relief,
In my overwhelming darkness.
After a day of suffering,
You still have your imaginings to run to.
What do I have?
What is to comfort me?
As if I chose this.
As if anything would choose this!
To live through each of your fears,
Night after night... never to escape.
I am trapped in the land of dreams.
I am trapped behind the shadows,
Behind the minds fears.
I am in your mind
I am trapped in the land of perpetual hope,
Of limitless oportunities.
I am despaired.
I am dead.
The blinding walls of my prison
Overwhelming my shadow.
You are terrified by your nightmares,
Yet when you wake, you can forget.
I shall forever sleep,
Never to wake.
Never to hope.
For I am Nightmare.
Without chainsi. Nightmares fall from my eyes like a thousand tiny stars, glittering like silver doves at four-in-the-morning, when everyone should be asleep and yet no one really is, and there's nothing I can do to stop their fallWithout chains5 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
there's nothing I can do to stop your fall
ii. In the darkness, I can hear you breathe.
"Just close your eyes," you whisper, "and everything's going to be all right."
The nightmares keep falling, crashing on the sheets like the lies from your lips.
You loved lying more than you loved me.
Reading PoetryI swallow distorted wordsReading Poetry6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
laughing as they reverberate in my throat
and slide down my esophogus
into the deep void of my soul.
Every sentence tastes powder-soft
like eating snow and sugar crystals
with the acidic bite of love-lost poems
and a forgotten muse.
We drink a white-wine spritzer
of verbs and ellipses
with a brandy twist of sorrow
and a tongue print of lemon
to counteract the pain.
I ask you for an absinthe kiss
and you press cigarette-stained thoughts
into my mouth
as the shadow-words burrow into our bones
searching for the truth.
I write villanelles onto your hips
and you slide into my wrists with ink pen scars.
We trip into paragraphs
as I drown in pretty verses
laughing as the names write bruises on your heart.
PolarisThis nightPolaris3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
is black, like a
and as a hand-print
she calls to you—
an echo of
what once was.
a half-truth, back-
is too dark to
guide you home.
callousand this is where i fall apart, bleedingcallous4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
but not as we know it.
you emptied me of sunsets, of the sweet scent
worn by summer air,
of the silence found in longing, the wish
for something far away.
you scraped off a layer of my skin,
there were dancers and drifters, bound by
rhythm but not by time.
(i was a child, wandering, sipping the atmosphere
like tap water.)
you demanded truth in layers of secret pathways,
but lost yourself in tangled ribbons,
choking us both like frightened snakes.
100 proofi.100 proof1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
It's easy enough to traipse through memory,
accelerant in hand, almost graceful
as you pour gasoline or alcohol
over memento mourning
that already feels afire;
easy enough to toss careless
flames over a hunched shoulder.
To let the world--
to let yourself burn
for just a little
It's a tired adage,
but all fires must go out.ii.
I want to advocate the harder road,
the furtive glances behind.
The padlocked door
seams warped by bitter days;
weren't the days meant to
get better, eventually?
Surely there should come a day
when you can smile at the shadows
and mean it.
Surely there should come a day
when 3 AM fades almost to mythology,
when the vices don't hold you
My head is a war-torn field
all a-litter and trembling;
and I cannot help but wonder
how I continue to burn,
Murder.Conversation can kill you.Murder.4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Name it what you will.
Idle chatter is merely another dagger,
To my daydreamer heart.
Maintain the manners,
Laugh in the right places,
Keep your mouth shut,
Yet not too much.
Don't dare to make it bearable.
Refrain from saying what you think.
Don't roll your eyes.
That would be rude, you know.
But then of course you do,
Otherwise you wouldn't agree with me,
Sit and listen
To the yammer of weddings, supermarkets
And reality television.
Just don't let them know,
You'd rather be someplace else
And that they're killing you,
indulgencei will peel away every individual shade of colourindulgence2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
in this seven-thirty pm sky
like stickers on empty beer bottles in the space
between your ankles
i will drink down this crescent moon cocktail
and get tipsy on night air,
clinging to my skin and summer
will run through my veins
but i don't want winter to come)
and sometimes i'll look down and realise
that my fingers are still sticky with sunsets
but i never want to be clean,
not ever again.
CassandraEven in death, Cassandra was lovely.Cassandra4 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Her hair cascaded over her ivory shoulders in sable cataracts, pooling in the soft hollow between her breast and throat. She was wearing the white nightgown, the one she knew I loved, and the fall had thrown it up, weightless, in gossamer drifts across her legs. Her bare toes were painted salmon-pink, the same colour as the roses in the crystal vase by the door.
So elegant, my Cassandra. I might have expected that she would sprawl, as one imagines that people do when they have died suddenly, but her body refused to surrender its accustomed grace. One hand curled beside her face; the other lay, palm up, across her cocked hips, its open fingers tenderly beckoning. Her eyes were closed, peaceful, the fringe of dark lashes sooty and familiar upon her fading cheek. Her lips were parted in expectation. At any moment, she would wake, look up at me, smile. Cassandra.
My hand found the banister, gripped the aged wood and guided me down the stairs, through th
Silenceit's like water slipping through your fingersSilence3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
or the stub of a cigarette bud going out
like the color of the sky right after the sun sets
or the drip drop of the water of a leaky faucet
like a roller coaster — only broken
it's a silent cry for help that is never spoken.
The art of self-destruction.I have spentThe art of self-destruction.2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
my whole life perfecting
how to separate my
insides from the
outsides without a
scar to show.
My arms have been
weapons instead of shields
and I have built no other
walls to defend me.
I grew up in
this house of flesh
and instead of tending
to its needs I have
been letting people
set it on fire instead
of loving me.
Motel room confessionsIt's become a habit of mineMotel room confessions6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Stale air in dusty motel rooms.
Half lit cigarettes,
Sample bottles of
Jack, Crown, Jager.
Warm naked body against my own.
He's sure a looker
Almost hate to wake him but it's time for him to go.
If only I could remember his name
I guess it's really not important
As tomorrow I'll replace him with another face.
Distant seas of tangled flesh
Liquor scented dirty sex.
They are so easy these creatures
I don't give my name so
They gave one to me.
They call me Diva, Cougar,
Lady in red.
Matters little to me as I know we'll wind up
In an over used seedy bed.
In every pair of eyes
I look for the ones I'm trying to drown.
It's been three years now
And he's never been found.
I guess what I'm really trying to do
Is loose myself.
I wake him
And grab another bottle from the shelf.
everything I'm becomingtwo weeks until the end of the world,everything I'm becoming2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
and i’m busy stockpiling all my regrets,
writing letters to flaws i don’t care
to fix, and trying to learn to draw
infinity. it’s time for two truths and a lie:
1. i was drunk for an hour on
good vibes and loneliness and
that quote “from the moment we
are born we begin to die”
2. and god, Bianca, you still show up
in my dreams; glaze-eyed and
more vocal than you ever were
when you were half-alive
1. (how close i came to arctic happiness
when you froze in my mind,
snowflake breath lingering like
the soundtrack of my breakdown)
now, she tells me she is sick
of the clothes stretched tight like
a second skin, and the gaping silences
between her ribs, and the singsong
unimportance glazing over her
hollywood-hangover eyes. she blossoms
like an earthquake, finally
growing into the goosebumps
and hollow bones her father
gave her-- i want to cure the world,
use a freeze ray to halt time
and kiss every empty wound;
Broken Cigarette1959; when cigarettes only killed timeBroken Cigarette3 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
17She's only 17173 years ago in Songs & Lyrics More Like This
and already she's seen
more then most hearts hold.
She's only 17
and she's finally coming clean
so she wont feel so old.
Who has the right to tell her
she's never really loved
she isn't old enough
after what she's been through?
She's got all these words
for summing up the hurt
but nothing will ever do.
no one marries the love of their life
they settle for someone they can live with.
this world can sting and twist in the knife and
all those fairytales are only myths.
She knows that life isn't made up of memories
but moments as you make them out to be.
She knows she's got a lot left to learn,
and only you can set yourself free.
She's only 17
and already she's seen
some of the most brutal things human kind can do.
She's only 17
and already she's been places where she thinks her life is through.
we have both good and bad
but the evil gets so much louder.
with both the happy and sad
that we're screwed but she couldn't be prouder.
I am 42"I am 42,"I am 424 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
said the poet(man)
who did not go on to be
famous, well-known, or even
and apparently that was enough
because he died with a smile
on his face and a dozen
roses in his clenched
shaped like grenades
he had thrown twenty years
previous, hoping he
didn't kill anyone
because he was just
screamed in ears
willing to listen as long
as he could interpret
and analyze later
on scraps of paper
torn from death reports
that became his job
to keep tabs on friends
who only made it home
in updates scrawled
on dog tags
which people have the nerve
to disgrace, saying these
poems are too short
Dear Parents:Strike the soft skin of your children; leave marks.Dear Parents:1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
Go on: show them how hard they must become
to be like you.
Mold them to be mindless: coach them to react
with fists; make them believe that words have
Shape them into an almighty monster: modern man.
Destroy their purity and imagination by damning them
with absurd words of a god who previous men
Teach children to follow a leader, and to not ever
break the circle they belong to, so society never
Above all: train them to question love, even your own.
DebussyRestless under theDebussy3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
dreams quiver like
a long-lost muse.
for those who want to be in loveyou want to fall in lovefor those who want to be in love2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
hard enough to break your bones and
lighten your feet
lighten your heart
so softly that the butterflies you feel
pattering with their gossamer wings
beneath the cage of your ribs
and the breath,
blue in the summer,
can kiss you and the monarchs
as sweetly as your love
and her lips.
you dream of them at night.
silken like clean bedsheets,
familiar as your favourite chair
when you curl up with
a mug of herbal tea.
you feel at home
with her body curled in yours,
only able to sleep
with her skin under your fingers
scenting the blankets
with something no perfume
could ever mirror.
you write love letters
you dream emptily
unless she is there.
you want to fall in love
the way the gods drink ambrosia,
you want to treat her
better than their nectar,
sweeter than honeybees
and their summer-sticky feet.
you want a love beyond poetry,
from winter flurries
to springtime rosebuds
to summer sweet lemonade
to autumnal red leaves u