sam cooke

where do they end
the smoke rings i send
....


i know you knew it.
otherwise you'd never been acting so defensively.
so it's okay i guess
we do things that are irrational
throughout our lives.

everybody around us knew too
they knew
and didn't understand why
you didn't
nobody did
why in the world i stayed
for so long

so who am i to blame anyone!?
i have to look at myself again
and ask myself, why, why
don't you do something that is good for you!?
why don't you
why don't you
why don't you
do
something that is good
for you.
.

1st of June it is

So - the big question: what could be!?
can i be straight and do what i said i would?

he called me his angel
and the answer to his prayers
and while many girls i know would have rolled their eyes at that
i knew it was true
because for me too
there was
magic
and we danced.

i missed the moment of departure
i stayed for a little too long
my elusive fairiness turned into songs
and he said, you love to sing, don't you
and i said
yes

i felt guilt all of the sudden
i felt sorry for him
i felt sorry i couldn't be
the answer to his prayers
nor his angel
but only love
would be
in a fleeting moment

thief in the sky

Carina Round
thief in the sky
and how i see it

she set everything to private
maybe
finally
and i wanted to disappear
melt into the floor of virtual reality
when i realized that she now
could watch me come
and go

like a tide
ebbing
in
and
out

my heart grows heavy every second
i see their faces
and curly hair
so young
playing music in the subway halls
with fervor and passion
so
so
so
young

she took all the place now
filled it with
demands and
i guess they call it
love
he is trying
it counts
maybe it's right
but she is not the
only
one

oh he's gone now
baby baby gone

i guess i really need a new man in my life. it sucks to fall back onto that. feel that love surge. it can't happen to me now.
see, i moved on already. it's not supposed to be that way.
don't mean so much
to me
dammit

mixed up

I can't stop thinking about you. Who I perceive you are, but like a scheme only, far away. Shadows upon my hills. And then there is your way of laughing and taking me into your big arms, all of you, it's so wide and strong and I feel safe.
I can't stop thinking about you and that really upsets me. How could I develop such feelings for a stranger, that you are, after all. Friendship runs deep, but anything else has never blossomed. I feel that it always had been just too early for anything more than just that sort of a friendship.

Then I wonder, if you are too intellectual. Why you don't play an instrument. If you are too serious. If you could ever understand my love and appreciation and my being drawn at times to the dive bars, to the dirt streets, the jazz bars and the way of blues.

But then I remember your laughter. And it makes me warm inside.

he wondered forever
what could have become of him and his music
what if he had tried harder
what if he hadn't fallen into the void
we met ten years later and were likewise fascinated
I was taken by the fact that my hero from long gone days was so tangible and real all of the sudden
He was taken by the fact that this woman that I had become once had had a crush on him, personally as well as musically
We met at the opposite ends and did not realize the distance inbetween
at night he touched my hips almost as if acidentally and he showed me the songs he had recorded, sometimes he also would listen
his mannerisms and little quirks were 33 years old and his stories never new
almost embarrassed for his insecurities I tried to get away from him
his car got towed because of me and he came back in december
my life exploded and I started to show him my cold shoulder for lack of courage to tell him the truth

that I really really just couldn't stand his mask and his searching

old fashioned dream

Lost in some old fashioned dream
holding together the past and me
where I stand is dark and I try to let go
who I was before
...
returning to the scene
returning to the ways that had carved themselves into my soul
she was upset, naturally, marking her territory like fundamental settlers in the Jordan land. I just knew that my heart was pounding like an iron fist from inside against my ribcage trying to make its way into the streets and bleed again.

it is, that I really felt so insanly much love.
it is, that I really have loved you so much.
it is, that you asking about me still means too much to me.
it was, that I was lost in some old fashioned dream.

deep melancholy engulfs my soul like giant wings of the queen of dark embracing my heart...
i dive deep down into the abyss of my own nightmares, my melancholy, my sad.
i let myself sink without regarding the multitude of pain and suffering that surrounds me every day.
only for now let me be smaller than small and petty.
let me be in a nutshell and cry a river, that will join the deep of the oceans one day.
where the music plays at the bottom of the sea.
with a whispering
with a whispering
with a whispering
of sounds.

dark

Oh gosh how I miss you and your dark words, always at the edge and up to date what was happening in the most obscurest trends of music....
Oh gosh how I miss you. And I can't call you or talk to you or write you or find out about you. Because we have gone past that point. We talked on the phone and agreed that it would be best to dive away. Into the vast ocean of oblivion, following each our own paths, winding into obscurity...
Gosh. How I miss how you loved me. How you looked at me. How you stood in this world, broken yet so strong and courageous. Hiding, at times, then rising up again.
I loved you so.
I loved you so.

Tonight I am sitting on the boardwalk somewhere in Berlin. Pieces of music waft through the air....I fall asleep...ebb in and out. Completely exhausted from work. So tired. And I don't know, where I am headed, and I don't know, where to go.
I miss the moments of silence in which we both just knew.

intrinsicately
i wave threads through a golden loom
i have no qualms about all those moments that fell off my shoulders like a neglige
you hesitate because yet again you were smarter than I
because my longings tear me apart and blind me like the fresh morning sun
so i run through the nights
it is still dark most of the time
and i hear the flaming sounds emerging from his lips into the starlit night sky.
i smell the blossoming
i feel the spring
my chest is floating
limbo
i am lingering in the middle fields of sorrow
playing my cards as best i can
as time drops off my hips like
dew escapes your eyes
early one morning....

just as the sun was rising.

what new chapter, please!`?

melancholy washes over me. good ol' friend, you.
blue!
so i listen to the band. and i try to amuse myself. eat a cookie or ten. and pity myself.
this is nothing compared to the depths of ocean wide blueness i have witnessed before.
but you just took the light from my eyes. took away the light summer breeze, that was refreshing my heart. now we put all the cards on the table but we also can t play no more. i might have had some good cards to deal up my sleeve but no, you wanted it all clear and right.
well, there, you can have em.

i m tired. my eyes hurt. i think i gotta go back to work now.

the bright side of the moon

Folks, it is summer time in Berlin. I start to appreciate the glory inherent to stark seasonal differences. As hard as it was to drag myself through the wintertime and the last soul-wrenching gray days in the city, I enjoy the sun, the mild fresh wind and my naturally exploding enthusiasm about all that, enormously.

I remembered today, that he lit an incense as i was lying on his bed trying to recover from a stomach ache that I assume was due to my being so nervous to actually do the language tandem with him. He asked me, if I was okay with incenses as he brought me tea to the bed, putting up pillows for me to be more comfortable. Then he showed me pictures of his family and offered me strawberries.

Life couldn't be any better... They say anticipation of happiness or death is respectively the best or the worst feeling, but I really don't care about anything like that. Who cares, if it won't evolve into something I secretly hope for! I sure as hell will enjoy this spring of my life.

Aloha!

dawn

it's dawning
birds are singing
breathing this fresh air foreboding spring time is like drinking a very refreshing lemonwater.
I listen to www.myspace.com/thecurseovdialect "broken feathers" and reminisce of the now in which I am.
She wrote me again. She answered my mail gently and fully of bloom. Forgiving maybe just as I am trying to walk the road of redemption.

She took from me violently and without concern. She tried to apologize, ready to take on the karmic consequences.
But I couldn't accept her in his life. Up to now. Now, that I see how she held out. How she cleaned up and was hurt and was going to leave him if he didn't change around.
Her birthday is two days before mine. She wrote back, something that not many girls would do. She reached out, just as I always dreamed in my hidden hopes of healing. She is with the man I loved.

I think it is and will be good.

God bless you with love and growth.

Let's let sun shine on it and time pass.
Maybe one day we can share our life experiences again. For now - till then.

k.d. lang and LA

I only now discovered k.d. Lang, by watching the dance performance Mazurka Fogo by Pina Bausch which Pedro Almodovar, on the other hand, used for his movie "Habla con Ella".
Wow. What a chain of incredible artists in their own right.

K.d. Lang said something about living in LA in one of the interviews I watched.
I totally agree. You are at the beach, the mountains, the desert in no time. You can keep it private if need, there are lots of trees, depending on where you live. LA is an amazing city, really.
Good for us, that not everybody gets that.

warrior of light or: to abdict, to abstain from, to do without

Sometimes I get so caught up with daily life, emotions, burdens... and forget, what I truly want.
What it really is I am about. Just because I am curious about the dark side of the moon doesn't mean I have to go there all the way. This is a world which is tumbling alongside the edge of a deep abyss of fear and insanity. Since I am a little child I know that I am on the other side. It might sound pathetic but I really feel I want to become a warrior of light. And there are wonderful people in my life, who remind me of that. In my personal relationships I tend to gravitate towards guys who have seen the other side. The dark side of the moon. Who went there halfways or all the way. Naturally they are attracted to me too. As my dad says, dark and light attract each other to form the middle, to create colors.
I am interested in healing. In growing. In creating. I know that destruction is part of it. I know that destruction and growth have to be balanced.

But for myself, I truly want to find the middle within myself. I want to learn and excercise. I want to learn how to abdict, to abstain from, to do without. Get stronger by doing so. Start little. With sugar. Wine. Never ask of other people to do something you haven't done yourself. I will never be able to reach out the hand to someone or take a hand from someone who is reaching out to heal, if I haven't battled my own addictions yet.

And yes, I am intrigued by the life of colors and richness, the abundance. But, and this I have to say, I sympathize way stronger with figures like Gandhi. It's so easy to forget. To be comfortable in our own petty lives. Make it comfortable. Find excuses and be alright. There is nothing wrong with that. Or IS THERE!?

I am thinking of my sister's friend Alina. She is a follower of this blog. She has an amazing photo-blog, check it out.
She is someone I know, who is BURNING on both sides, because she just can't sleep. Knowing of the injustice and wound and crisis in Palestina.

I have shielded myself from many things in the past because I burnt my candle on both ends at a very young age. I suffered physically from environmental destruction and social injustice. Children being recruited to be soldiers. People "disappearing" in Argentina and many other countries.
It took a toll on my heart and it does sound pathetic but I suffered.
And I have shielded myself for a long time now. I had to, or so I thought. I came up with great explanations as to why. I had to, naturally, since I have to look into the mirror every day.
I guess, maybe, one reason was, to be able to invest in myself without dissolving into the insanity of these problems and tragedies.

But again and again I feel the time approaching in which I have to step out again.

From this shelter
this nest
and not fear

the dark side of the moon

what i am missing is: self discipline. i learned to listen to my body so well, that sometimes i let him dictate my doings. that's real bad news to me. I realized that early today in the morning and there needs something to be done about it. I realize I have a similar lack of discipline emotionally. I so have to learn how to hold back and not just react upon my extreme emotions. There needs to be some kind of rule. Like no calling or writing before at least one day has passed after the outbreak of an emotional volcano in my soul. or such as, I can only do something after I wrote a song or painted a picture or wrote a poem about it. At least that will keep my creativity going.
I am so tired of being in-efficient and slow.

Slow is good, but only if it is your real pace and not some freaking physically dictated illusion.

On a different note: I would like to go to Cuba. I would like to be in love like I was with the pirate prince. Okay, okay, I admit, today I did feel like I wanted to be with him even. But gee. That's the whole point of the post, right, that I want to learn how to regulate these kinds of feelings.

So....later alligators!

Emeralda needs to become Piranha again for a while

i tried

maybe not hard enough, but look i tried.
i grew. i learned. from all this.
i learned to appreciate the qualities of the exex that i couldnt fall for. it seems lifetimes ago. way back, first round berlin.
now, see, i finally was able to feel a crush again. it was tingely and beautiful. a great guy. the kind of guy that knows how to dance, smile, cook, who worked the first year berlin from 9 to 6 and studied german at night til 9 PM.
that s the kind of guy i want to go for!
but there is this other person. popped up in my life. great conversation, great energy.
and i couldnt stop laughing yesterday when i chatted with him and found out mor about him.
yet, it made me angry, a little bit. or annoyed.
because: this is the kind of guy I am trying not to get involved with anymore.

how come those guys are drawn to me? what is it in me, that attracts them?
the ones who have lived or still live at the dark side of the moon.....

dying

What makes one death worse than the other?
What makes one death more lamentable than others?

People die everyday. It's more unlikely than not to die of illness, accidents, stupidity and fatal circumstances instead of a peaceful death of the kind that you fall asleep when you are old and just never wake up again.

It is hard to say good bye. We cling onto that life. Religions have emerged from that dilemma. From the fear and from the hope for a surviving soul.

We see how frail physical life is and dream of more.
But souls die too. Sometimes more.
Calling their bodies to follow them down into the canyons of dark.

We cry upon the arriving caskets. More soldiers dead. But they signed up for it. More so than my friend who just got cancer one day and now looks like he is a dead man walking. That makes me cry. Naturally, because he is my friend. But maybe, he signed up for that too. Who knows? Who knows.
If my friend came back from combat, wrapped into a flag, I would lose my mind over it. I would lament and maybe I would become pacifist. Right now I rather would like to become a scientist and find the cure for brain tumors that keep growing.

Sometimes I feel like we are ants. Every one has a life and the right to it.
But if you don't die of war, murder, illness or accidents you still might lose your kid to drugs and violence.
Maybe you will lose yourself to drugs. Even if there is no war.
The death would still be just as horrible.
Some people die before they were born. Abortions. Miscarriages. People fight over lives. Who will inflict a burden on who.
Some people do get born, onto a trash hill and all they will ever know is their ghetto. Some others get born and discover they never really wanted to and they jump and kill themselves. Some others take people who do want to live with them.

This is a crazy world.

This is a crazy ant hill.

And sometimes I just don't know what to do.

mazzy star

There was this feeling of belonging together. The smell of tar in front of 7/11 on Santa Monica Blvd.
Our reflection bore the sign of melting into each other, four AM and the long and winding road and a heart of gold.
We were friends in crime, shopping for O-juice and sprite with only a blanket wrapped around my naked body, rocking the camper and the rich suburbian gardens, making love in the car, your fingers drawing patters on my soul.
I miss making love to you. I miss that sense of belonging. Of rocking the world together. How different that was from picking you up from Mel’s after all your other friends had left and you told me I was the only true friend you ever had as we walked up Highland from Hollywood Blvd.
It makes me cry, naturally.
Still. I think it’s strange you never knew.
I think it’s strange you never knew.

And I can’t write this to you. I can’t burden you down with this truth. With this sentimental piece of shit. This chain. That would tie your soul down just as it ties mine down, sometimes. Anchoring me to the ground. The wells of pain. Of knots in the throat. Of wild and raging hope. To rediscover. Recover. Recover the lost. The dead. The ghosts.
The moments. Retrieve the moments. Of lust. Of love. Of partnership and walking. Together. To the rhythm of our own drum.

It’s hard to breathe sometimes. The last moment of love. Flickering in the dark. It was Tony’s birthday. We were at Santa Monica beach with my family and you looked in my eyes and I felt the burn creep up my skin. I knew you felt it too. It was a deep split second that passed. We could have left them but we didn’t. You took my face into your hands but you wouldn’t come with me to the water.

I can’t call you.
Weigh you down with my voice. My longing. My loss. My love.

the hunter

So you like to be turned down she says.
I laugh, hysterically maybe, hum and haw...
Well.

I like the not so obvious. If I was breathtakingly beautiful I would enjoy looking at myself in the morning. Just pure joy of estetics. But I would probably never go for all those guys who are so obviously losing their shit over my appearance. I would go for the guys who could have anyone but truly learned to care for what is behind the facade. It would be a matter of personal survival to me.
I am not that mind blowingly pretty though. I have a different handicap: I have many talents. I am very personable. I have a lot of energy. I impress people more often than not with my skills and experiences.

This sounds so horrible just writing it out. I feel this burning disgust pressuring my chest just reading it. Hopeful to re-read this later and say, oh my gosh, I was so full of shit.
But oh well, I have reasons to say that and even though, luckily, I don't leave an impression in certain scenes and circles, it happens a lot.
I dislike people...no, I don't dislike them for that, but I lose love-interest for guys who are easily impressed with me. Who tell me how much they admire me and how amazing I am and all that stuff. People long to hear that but they want to hear it for different reasons. I don't need those kind of compliments because I am used to them. They are what 'OMG you are so BEAUTIFUL' comments are to beautiful people. It flatters, but you are annoyed that yet again, they couldn't see any further.

I like P. because he smiled and flirted with me but didn't go for me in a very obvious way. He is busy with his own heartbreak. I didn't blow his mind that much. Anyway, not enough to cover up his pain.
And I am still interested.
I fell for D. because he let me just be. His words of adoration, later on, meant everything to me. Every little compliment from his mouth meant the world to me. Because he saw right through me, in some ways, he told me not to bullshit myself and take the easy way out. He didn't say: Oh, gosh, you are so talented Piranha, you impress me more than anyone, I want to be with you. He just wanted to be with me. The real me. So it felt.

I don't want no guys who are amazed by me. As stupid as that sounds. Because for sure I want to be adored and admired by my love but there needs to be equilibrium. I just don't want to be merely satisfying someone's fantasy of being with someone LIKE me, who does this and that and that. I want to be worth it stripped bare of all those things. Not saying that character traits don't matter. Or social skills. But the way they are appreciated and consumed, does.

summer 2008

the howling of the wolves
from deep down
emerging unbeknownst
ever again

I sleep like a child, waking up to my own voice
sobbing,
trying to trace the floating fragile images of a dream that is quickly
escaping my consciousness. i calm down and listen to the cold outside,
rehearsing to creep through the cracks in my windows and walls, like
ivy crawling up the walls of time.
I can hear her breathe I can touch her back she is real and she is there so I can go back to sleep.
Outside the wolves are howling
and the wind is whisteling
and the thoughts are tormenting
and the feelings are invading
and everything is in shambles and shatters and fragments
the whole of the story has slipped and broke
in thousand renditions it harms my soul
with every howl it comes closer
brings that dark moon ever so close
shivering cries in the dark
echoing in the light of it..s frowning grin
fowl scents of rotten flesh wounds
catering to their needs
hurt, hurt, hurt they scream
Johnny Cash sings hurt
I cuddle deeper into the blanket
mingle my feet with hers
think of the refuge to come
of painting to be painted
of stories to be written
of nights to be spent
alone

544

the morning in 544 12th street, the walk along the bluff and the bus - it was hard my breath hard to regulate your hands lying, crying, telling a truth of fading times.
- i left with the shambles of the dawn -

I wake up and really don't want to.
Okay, so I get up. Straight back to working on that paper. But first, let me say this: Piranha: be aware of how much attention you give to people. Either they do it anyways, or there is something about you, but either which way, they will open up to you, invite you to look into their abyss of human condition and share with you such deep things that the next day you will feel hung over not from sweet wine but from stories that are not yours.

aggravation

some people just talk too much. i am so aggravated. and some talk too little.
i might be really missing out on something important here...like, refining myself, for example. but boy, I'll just suck that one up and leave it at that: can't you people just be straight for once? to the point.
say, "hey, we need to collect more money" and we'll do it. don't tell me how stressed out you are about the situation, when everybody already left and your little hints in the middle of action didn't get through to my elephant ears. I am not that sensitive really. when i am in the middle of a swirl I don't understand your eyes talking to me in silence. damnit.

the funny part is, those, who talk too much don't get it either, when I am straight.
I say, please, gentlmen, don't discuss this here and now, it's late.
What happens is, they explain me why they discuss this. I say "please, this is not the time and place" and then he says "young Germans are more interested in the superficie of paintings whereas people like us are interested in the depths."
but he really didn't see how the exhibiting artist was swaying back and forth, almost falling asleep while trying to listen to him.

i am so aggravated right now.

brave new day

it's weird how I woke up after only four hours of sleep. the sun just went up in that very moment and I guessed right, north is somewhat to the right of our apartment so we are not entirely facing north. we still wont get any sun shining in our faces but at least into my balcony.

i am on a ridiculous coffee or adrenaline high.
trying to write a paper but really running in the park with B in my mind. I can feel the freshness and the thump thump of our steps running next to each other.

it's hard to get back into intellectual routine, really.

the love crush has cooled down. chilli it can get, indeed, when you only try and ridicule yourself enough. it would still be interesting to find out what the truth is. there might be something about that sincerity thing his best friend told me about. he said that Germans or Berliners for that matter are more sincere than for example, his fellow Spanishmen. I wish he would just tell me something in response but maybe he really doesn't know what to say. Stating how glad I was that I met him and really didn't expect anything else to come off it was maybe too much sincerity to handle. who knows. Maybe I just should have tried to write in Spanish after all.
lol

oh, oh, brave new day.

on thursday his myspace update read that he felt stalked...and then, froggy.
i wonder....who by=?!"_ahahaha. muahahaha.
ha.
word....

you know, if you ever wonder what NOT to do when you crush on someone, JUST ASK ME. DONT HESITATE. I have it down pretty good by now.

broken inside

{that what makes me feel at the edge might be an ordinary inclination to a bi-polar disorder. maybe i am really just tripping. it is literally heart-wrenching to go through such intense emotions.
sometimes however, a very respected person tells me to be aware out there - that 'not many people know how to deal with such honest and raw emotions that you show'.
he says I am a friendship-person.
this might be an explanation as to why i got so hurt when they backstabbed me and why i tend to crave forgiving so quickly.}

I am broken inside. Fear's cold claws grip my heart and clench it tightly.
I fear the continuation of what promised to be oh so good.
The mind backflips. I just can't shake that cosmic blues sometimes.
Yesterday only I lay panting on her couch, trying to deal with how good of times these are. The utter mindfuck, the ultimate punch to throw me over the edge.
Living at the verge of falling and no security nets no where except for in the chimera and pipe dreams that hold me hostage when I lie paralyzed on my uncomfortable futon trying to grasp my life as it is dwindling and fading away.

The broken spasms call me to their underworld of letting go, drowneded pain and forsaken sorrows.
Listening to old, old memories of oh so meaningful love. The refuge from past wounds that just can't be mended. The impossible questions that can never be rendered nor resolved. The what if's, the maybe's and the don'ts. Her broken heart shimmering next to mine and his broken words. My strife, her loss, your lost soul wandering the fogged up world of phantasms and nitty gritty every day work.
Survival.
And new challenges that can be still lost
If I keep
letting
go

roadtripping

her pressed against the car and the wind is blowing.
thoughts of the once beloved drift and fade -
she is warm, she is real, she breathes in your hair and sighs sweet affirmations in your ear.
the sky is wide, heaven far and the vastness of the land overwhelming.
small little dirty motels remind you again but you push the thought aside and feel strangely moved as you watch her squeak happily as she drops down on the freshly made bed, spreading her legs like wings.
short and painful, the regret and the guilt, you on a roadtrip but not with the once beloved one.
it's her now
and she is warm, she is real, she breathes in your hair and presses her cheek in the dent in your chest. she lies her head on your shoulder like a child and she is a woman and she is wild.
you pull out the bottle of redemption and remind yourself why you took her along. why she took you along. why you are doing this. making up for past wounds. for twists and turns and because she has born with you.
so did the wild child
but
she is warm and she is real.
you have to forget all this. you have to let go. the wild child is happy now, wherever she goes.

right is wrong is right is wrong is right is wrong is right is ... is?

In a way it helped me to work with loaded people. I learned to deal with it. And also, I learned to allow myself to indulge, a concept that had me guilt-ridden all along.

But, today, I read in a magazine (that I usually enjoy to read) these short interviews with people in Berlin about what they just had bought and why.
It didn't occur to me, that you don't have to be THAT loaded in order to actually buy relatively expensive clothing. Or key-chains for that matter.
A designer KEY-chain (a KEY chain!) for 81 Euros. The guy said style was important to him.
Good Lord, gracious, where do these people have that kind of money from?
How do they come to spend it that particular way?
A watch for 3600 Euros? The lady interviewed stated she didn't need a watch in particular but she really liked that one so she bought it.
SO SHE JUST BOUGHT IT.
I also just bought a nutbun today, for 1,50 Euros and one beer for 1 Euro. I mention this because it was awkward how I justified that towards myself and my friend. I said, well, I could have had a Falafel with that money, and it would have been dinner right there. But I indulged.

They fired a lady from a supermarket chain here because she took two refund tickets for deposit bottles (in the worth of about 1,30 Euros) that some customer had lost and took it for herself.
She is a mother of three with two grandchildren and had worked there for 31 years.
Her colleagues told on her.
The whole thing was taken to a higher court and today the result came out. Guilty. She can't sue that supermarket chain for firing her.

Because, if you take 1,30, 5 or 100 Euros isn't the point here. It's that you take it.
So I guess indulging in a 1,50 bun with literally no money really is just as bad and irrational as spending 3600 Euros on a watch.

I really just can't get over it.
They looked like NORMAL people. I guess I am really not normal then!
I must be really poor and broke, in fact!

It must be good for the economy also, but I wonder if there is anyone out there who has thought the thought to its very end. Does the economy really have to always grow? Isn't there some sort of way out???
It's like cancer almost.
I am really at a loss
to know
right
from
wrong

broke again

the new month even hasn't started yet and all the money i have for it is gone already for rent, insurance and phonebills.
great! i guess it will be the time of the year to do a 'religious' fasting ritual. I think in Christian tradition there is a fasting time from carneval time (RIGHT NOW!) until eastern. That's EXACTLY the period of time I've got to bridge to get by. I'll have some money to buy food from my assistant job, so I'll manage hopefully. With God on my side :)
Note to self: don't buy handwoven baskets in second-hand shops, don't buy food when you're out and about, don't buy, ahem, yeah, food. and no partying, but it's not like I've partied at all lately. I've been just invited to all these events. Gee. ;0)

It's also time and take a chance to start getting fit and lean and more disciplined! no more indulgent desserts in our house! hm. maybe only here and there?
:)

hard not to

hard not to write.
her hand on his legs, barcadi bottle. soap and skin singing like a dying swan, you in my arms, my touching your soul, how it felt, how it felt, when we were.

dreams buried, in shatters and fragments. she is fucking good. damn.

he spit his venom into all directions, i asked the wrong question and suddenly i was no friend no more.
there are people who can't take a wrong step. who can't take a wrong word. who can't take a wrong question.
we are so frail and fragile against these towering walls.
we have to learn to be upset. outraged. outspoken.
it hurts. it hurts when your actions are counted like pennies and intentions don't matter at
all

some friends we just have to let go
like lovers

maybe i really just wanted
to get something out of it

competition

other than my sister I slow down when I run into competitive situations when tension hits a certain degree.
I want to be loved maybe, just the way I be.
I think maybe I let it all slide. With a veil of salty tears I swept the ashes behind my dreams and let everything down.
Too many words maybe
disguised in intentions
dreams are still swirling. Life is taking it slow with me.
And I am thinking of different situations, such as driving over the hills into the valley, those Romanian clowns at the street side, the truck and later my broken car.

I got to take it easy. Grades don't matter so much except for you need scholarships.
My natural reaction is to say: I don't need anything.
But still, I am hiding behind this screen and fear the outcome.
Too many jobs and too little capacity to go without sleep anymore.


...the way he put his hand around my face echoed inside. reverberated in my soul.
i don't know who he is but his smile pierced me like an early morning ray.

Aye!

I can't hold it back!
I am gone like the murmurs of times
past
Ah, what a sweet dust covering my soul!
Don't
you
want
to
go
for
love

exception

I know I said it was gonna be over. But then there is a night full of dreams filtered by white.
And you go and can't belief your own eyes.
THE LAUGHTER IS SHAKING YOUR BODY LIKE LIGHTNING IN A BOTTLE
Listen, did you hear the sound?
Mostly I hear the echoes of my thoughts.
The dolphins swam with us...
What, what, you can't belief the thread?
Robbing up to the beach, sand against your skin.
Laughing in a whirlwind like swans singing on their way to meet death
Seegras on your head
Hair you flow away
Things sound so sweet when love is knocking against your innermost doors

Once, once, once
upon a time!

The hills of Berkeley, so familiar, you don't even have to exit the street

There was peace behind that veil of tears. You can't understand a word of muttering but life's winds are blowing gently, caressing your tortured skin.


Once, once, once upon a time, beneath a hickory tree.

Do you remember the hole in the bark? The nest for unknown stories untold.

Paco, the winds whispers but you're far gone.
Liking the course things take. Violins playing, bestowing meaning on your dust.
What, if you never been gone?
Ah, let me sing it once again!
In the midst of nothing! And you sway, and turn, and quiver and turn!

Once, once, once UPON! A! TIME!

The lead has gone.
Vanished
Only you. In the gray. Mist is covering your tears. Streams ceased in further times. Lightning upon your soul. Give it a chance to come. Break through. Burst in thousdand colors! AH! THE LIGHT!
Darkness is covering my soul, like layers of dirt. Piled on my streets, Gathering from ancient crusts, living up to my mares, of older times. Living up to my dreams of forsaken souls. Giving them peace in Hades, giving in to the crows, knocking gently on my chamber doors

Edgar Allan Poe

She was so sweet, against the obscurity
of vanished dreams
manifested in our lives
hard to take
hard to give
Listening to the grief
taking place in our midst
giving gently pace to forbidden melodies
murmurs of our time






can you give me one more, one more, one more, one more
of your good times

You ain't goin nowhere

Southern France 1995, a summer full of blossoming hopes. My body lean and strong, gliding through the waves, surfacing only to get a fresh breath of air.
Hooray, ride me high, tomorrow is the day my bride is going to come...
Dad listened to his Dylan Tape on end and the midsummer night storms washed my dreams ashore. La vida esta muy muy muy extrano!

alone

his dishes were dirty, piling up in the kitchen. foot prints all over the floor and the trashcans stinking. the mattress of his bed halfway slouching on the floor, the frame broken. he had run out of filters and papers again, talking to some Musician in Kansas City on skype.
I made pasta out of the few ingredients I could find in his fridge that weren´t rotten yet. The coffee machine was broken too and the cupboards unbelievably sticky and dirty. Official letters spilled over the kitchen table right next to his socks hanging on a laundry rack. Job center. Unpaid bills. Rent two months behind.
You need a label like us he says in the other room to the guy in Kansas City and then a couple of words in my language talking to me, maybe to impress him.
Can´t get to see his kid in a way that would make a normal relationship possible. And the laws are so fucked man.
He´s a hustler, baby and you know it.
later I sink into oblivion on his insanely comfortable black couch. talking about this and that. his kid. the laws. about America. about Europe. the differences. about, when it is time to leave.
and suddenly, like clouds being torn by a ray of light pushing through his attention focuses on this one question. never have i heard him listen as attentively before as I try to explain what it is like to perform music and feel this certain kind of energy flow and exchange.
i can´t explain.
this man is a wreck.
he is a mystery.

the bright side

it isn't so easy to live with people. all these different fucking emotions. really.
always cutting wings because we are so damn scared for our own space to whither and die. never indulging in trying to experience the new, the other, the idea.

but he took my face into his hands and smiled
like cupid
melting my ice

like smokerings curling up behind your shoulder

Raven black boy
Curls in my mind, like smokerings at the bay
At the Egyptian Theater
Youcame after many eternities of waiting
Insecure just as I was
Walking up to me
I closed the laptop
And my eyes
Trying to remember
Who we were
Who we were
In that night

Highstreet

i know it should't be about competition, but you still beat most of them, Emily.
I am in Kreuzberg.
It's evening. Massaged my friend. Damn. I really do love this work.
Now I am listening to Emily.
And the streets are rough out there.
Met this lady at the Falafel store. She was a connecting thread and things fall into place.
Watched people come and go, up and down the streets.
Some artists create this installation in a viewing window. Red, red, chaotic.
I am thinking of the English German girl in the U9. How fucked up she looked like. How truly fucked up. And she smiled finally, and she gave me one of her "Nimm 2" candys. We smoked a cigarillo at Osloer Str. and exchanged stories. They are making coffee in the oven where they lit a fire. No electricity in the house.
Homeless since May or so. Loves Berlin. Been here since October 2007. But she is only 19!
Her eyes so blue, light, with a dark ring around them. Intriguing. She put her hair out of her face and tried to brush it with her fingers when she noticed I smiled.
Things are weird in life.
Definitely.

disappearing

i am so disappointed now, i can bareley breathe. i try not to, but i feel it rolling in like high tide.
i feel like it washes away the restraints. the last hopes and beliefs. faith. and yes, strings losen and they break apart. porose and rotten.
yeah, there is some sense in there, sometimes. and yet. it's good to have the other perspective. the utter fucking betrayal. yes man, we are human. there are artifacts. the human condition isn't tied to instincts and fucking fate only anymore. maybe in a bigger sense, but in the daily game, there are choices. there is freedom of choice.

i guess that goes only so far as our current conditions allow.
i am watering down my own anger
i am watering down
down
down
down

i love you

it is impossible to know why or how
even though
i have heard the theory, for sure. psychology, sociology, pathology, folly.
we failed in practice
and yet

i

love

te iubesc.

alexandra leaving

sometimes I have to go back. listen to that song again. feel myself again. remind myself of those times long gone and faded.
the moment you walked into the room, so definite and declared. the lines drawn and in my arms your eyes broke and my heart quivered in unimaginable strain.

'...do not say the moment was imagined to not stoop to strategies like this...as someone long prepared for this to happen, go firmly to the window, drink it in...
exquisite music, Alexandra laughing, your first commitments tangible again...
and you who had the honor of her evening and by that honor had your own restored, say good bye to Alexandra leaving....say goodbye to Alexandra leaving with her Lord....even though she sleeps on your satin even though she wakes you with a kiss..do not say the moment was imagined...do not stoop to strategies like this...
as someone long prepared for the occasion, in full command of every plan you wrecked...do not choose a cowards explanation... that hides behind the cause and the effect....
and you who were bewildered by a meaning, who's code was broken, crucifix uncrossed...say goodbye to Alexandra leaving...then say goodbye to Alexandra lost'


still, at a loss of words

King Harvest

King Harvest

Driving the old silver Toyota. Broken window. Blankets to cover myself up during night drives up Topanga Canyon or the Hollywood Hills to the Valley.
Gallons of water in the clamped trunk for the thirsty broken radiator. And King Harvest will surely come on tape. The crackeling sound of the old tape and the blistering palmtrees in the wind. I can't forget what was, I can't ever forget what was. Can't forget my second home. The delighting naivite of West Coast folks, the refreshing superficialities that build and build until they accumulate in a big deep well.
This it is.
I can't get over it. 404. 101. 110. Sepulveda...the Massage Place and the Serbian Metro Diner in Culver City near the Jazz Life Music Restaurant with Caribbean food.
I probably never will. The taste of the Magnolia Trees in the meadow.
It's where I left my heart, where I grew up, where I loved to the moon and back.
...pretty soon the carneval at the edge of town...King Harvest will surely come.

crush

sweet sweet
little crush
hush, hush
lullaby
does he know it
i don't know
daisies are sleeping
winter is towering
sweet little laughters
good moments and faith
my little hand covered held warm
sleepy sleepy
hush lullaby
sweet little crush
makes days fly by

setting sails on the frozen seas

nothing like a sun filled morning.
my breath crystallizing in the frosty air, I throw my hair back and start walking down along the creek. ducks, ravens, puffy snow heavy on the branches....mysteries of a long night, mingled in one powerful image penetrating my eye, my soul, my mind.
it is weird, and i maybe i shouldn't talk about this. but it feels as if things are closing in. maybe it's too early yet to even think of it. maybe i should just let the feeling float on this eternal sea until it manifests in action.
but i want to sing a little melody. together with the robin. greet the newborn sun and leave the death of a freezing night behind.
traces are frozen into the snow. dogshit. footssteps. of men, women, children. of wheelchairs, bikes, tricycles and cars. trucks, taxis, busses. and airplanes posting their marks into the clear sky as if to write coded messages for skilled eyes to dissect.
i want to sing with the robin. with dylan in 'you're a big girl now'. "Bird on the horizon, sittin' on a fence,
He's singin' his song for me at his own expense.
And I'm just like that bird, oh, oh,
Singin' just for you. "
but even that song is gone now. it's new territory now. like that ice on the fjords in Sweden and Norway on which Chris skated the other day. The whole morning. On the frozen sea. the throbbing feeling has faded. there is ice covering the wounds.i slowly recover. see old ropes, rotting and decaying in the gray inbetweens of our incapabilities to cut them clean.
i let them go. let the ship sail.
say hello to the world for me.

i was sitting in the green chair, across the room from you.
you, on the violet white blanket with flower print. your sister gave it to me.
our bed.
the window, and soft, the green behind the screens.
cloudy, your hair, and soft your playing, sitting there, but gone with the wind.
i watched the light around us and the warmth.
stark and clear a thought grew inside: this is the good old time. now. and i will remember this forever. this moment of you, and me, and the beauty, so pervasive.
it was a moment made for eternity and doomed to fleet and whither then. dissolving in the salty streams of life.
it was the beginning of the end. like bells ringing beautifully the night to sleep.

excorcisms

his insecurities made me ache. the self conscious nervous laughter at all the wrong moments dooming the situation to feel uneasy and secretly I cringed inside.
only when pretending to be asleep I could let my guard down a little and just enjoy the closeness. daylight made it impossible however. his close drawing in, his inability to listen and wait and sit back to watch things grow left me deserted in my own confusion. already as we drove down the autobahn i felt it wasn't LA and it wasn't PCH or 101. A weird kaleidoscope of things had swirled me around. A weekend with the quality of the eye of a storm, sweeping my away into the big stream of life, rushing me to the seas.
But he was the X. The unknown. The incomprehensible. His interpretations sucked the reel away. My mind formed around the feelings, leaving my wounds and love and attachments wash away as the music got pushed against the four corners of the room and through the locked door. Only for a few moments my ghosts and demons lingered, getting all tangled up trying to manifest just to get sucked away in the very next instance, dissolving in the wild.
his insecurities, his wounds, his broke.
too much to care for. too much talking. too much reflection. too much light. too much of everything.
i just had to hide. i can't break through this one. it only works when it's meant to be. and torn walls can build up in disguise, within the protected.

priorities gone astray

it´s,. at times, the comic amusement that triggers me to do that. all day i don´t feel like it and then at night, i do one mouse click, get on that site and amuse myself in strange manners. almost feeling like staring at an accident when obviously that´s the last thing one ought to do.
sometimes i think, you better know real well, what you wish for.
if, what you want, is really what you ´d want, if you could get it for real.
so late, i sit, and spend my time. i´m so incredibly far away.

later

sometimes
I realize how much I still look
to see if I can find your face in the crowd, the edge of the picture, the reflections in windows in videos far away.
then I receive a message and I scan the letters meticulously, re-read it, re-think it. Read it again.
Surprised I cock my head as if to listen to a faint voice, echoing somewhere in the vastness of my heart. If there is. There still is. Something.
Later I notice how I kick the fallen leaves like a kiddo and think much love.
It is weird, isn't it.
Nashville, you sound, and, I blank everything out. Everything that could disturb this warm feeling that is etching my armor away, minute by minute, letter for note.

good to see you
see you progress
do, what you love
so hard, not to be your mother
not to be your lover
not to be your girl.

things have changed here
and I grow even stronger
I never wanted to
I was so strong already

it's so good to see your face
your hair
and your body

sometimes it is so hard
not to think
who you touch these days
and who takes part in all
these steps you take
i plowed the ground
with my bare hands
it hurts

I am so happy these days
only occasionally caving in to this
and
I am so

I am wondering
what all this means
still,
ain't that funny
wondering, if you ever waste a thought
or feeling
and if
if it's really just
a love gone wrong
a youthful excursion
adventure
they say
and if
it's really just okay
to let go
and keep going

implications

implications
fears
pushed away
shoved away
don't think about it
be sad later
don't deal with it
pretend otherwise

really
what are the implications
honestly?
without fearing to
lose myself in this jungle
of complications

what are the implied negatives
that i try not to assume
that my dreams gather and keep record off
meticulously
lousy cold the weather
and smiles
pass unaccounted for

what is the biggest fear
connected to this
utter rejection
betrayal
denial
gone wrong
done wrong
did wrong
so long?

things about
who I am
and what I mean to somebody
and what I believe, hiddenly, that I deserve
derived from who I consider myself to be
and what I consider to have done

like...it's okay to make grave mistakes
on either side
and hence
we
move on?

the howling of the wolves
from deep down
emerging unbeknownst
ever again

I sleep like a child, waking up to my own voice
sobbing, trying to trace the floating fragile images of a dream that is quickly escaping my consciousness. i calm down and listen to the cold outside, rehearsing to creep through the cracks in my windows and walls, like ivy crawling up the walls of time.
I can hear her breathe I can touch her back she is real and she is there so I can go back to sleep.
Outside the wolves are howling
and the wind is whisteling
and the thoughts are tormenting
and the feelings are invading
and everything is in shambles and shatters and fragments
the whole of the story has slipped and broke
in thousand renditions it harms my soul
with every howl it comes closer
brings that dark moon ever so close
shivering cries in the dark
echoing in the light of it´s frowning grin
fowl scents of rotten flesh wounds
catering to their needs
hurt, hurt, hurt they scream
Johnny Cash sings hurt
I cuddle deeper into the blanket
mingle my feet with hers
think of the refuge to come
of painting to be painted
of stories to be written
of nights to be spent
alone

i hold the coin in my hands
it's burning into my skin
the odor of burnt flesh makes me gag
i can't believe either of the sides
neither head nor tail
i think i just gotta flip the coin
and never pick it up again

bad

this is bad
i am that close
hovering right on the verge
above the verge
at the verge
merging
but i draw back
fight
don't know anything
but
that maybe now i just gotta
cut
wait
withdraw
stop
concentrate on what's up
not on what's been
fucking beens

lisa
strange it seemed to me then
didn't wanna return to Borl
although, I thought to myself,
it had been the most amazing, miraculous summer ever been
she knew
and i didn't
but she also suffered
when heart strings
popped
and she had to sew
and cut

theory of relativity

sunken beneath the shadows of a love bigger than life
images unreal, descendants of imaginations of false illusions
false security
the sin of looking back
turning into a pillar of salt
returning ever again
to the well of pain
absentmindedly, like a passer by looking on
as if unconcerned
and as if it really didn't mean me
i know that she is out there
trying to make me hurt
to redeem her insecurities
that inevitably befall every one fallen on his way
freeing myself from these images of the past
i try to conquer my way
write her
try to state how i moved on
claim a piece of independence fuck you attitude
that is not mine

the only pain killer for such numb unreal pain really
is creativity
transformity
not pity
?

fiction

it's distant now. i am okay. when i am drunk i do stupid things. but i am okay. even songs are okay. actually, a lot is okay.
i'm glad you are okay
and i have so much fun. i really do. you know what is funny?
what
when we had that dinner at the thai place. that one already tainted with injustice - i saw the inside of your wallet when you searched for your card.
so
i saw that damn paper.
i know we had a fight about it
the funny thing about it is that this was the worst moment of betrayal to me. that you'd carry this paper around with you

struck

the perfectly
wide
scenery
destroyed
no looking farther than the horizons no more
one bolt
struck
lights
in the wrong place
lightning the damage
way too obvious
clearly stating
what had been carved into the bloody ground:
UTTER BETRAYAL
it was

truths

half.

lies

see, if you guys just have fun
i'll be happy

at home

she doesn't leave and i almost feel guilty for the tide of annoyance and frustration that starts to rise within.
it s time to go now.

dark

i wonder if i will become
like her
and what could be done
to bring peace to
her mind
i find it hard to bare
unhappiness trickling into dry ground
it is
chappy
chinky
cracky
gaping
it is pulling me into its chasms
its clefts
its
great divide

oh Mother, blessed are thou
blessed be thou

look

look
there is a new side to this
a dark side of your moon
a new window
another perspective
another way of seeing things
dark glasses to shade me from this sun

look
your yelp for my pretending
the need for forgiveness
your pleas and your asking how I am
is tiring by now
i don't want to make you feel good
nor should you try to make me smile

who the fuck do you think you are
to want to make me smile
after you ripped out my heart,
ate it raw
just to spit it out like a coward

who the fuck do you think you are
to ask me how I am and to let you know
how things are going
it is none of your business no more
there is a reason i don't ask you anymore

i don't want to know

yes i do

yes i do
the whole masochist thing
but maybe it is just something else
therapy
go back, go back, go back

look at the picture, carefully. try to take it all in, miss no detail. imagine the rest, fill in the gaps. think of what it could all mean, be, if that's what..
he needs.
wants.
indeed.

so you go back, just to feel your heart racing one more time.
pack your stuff, hit the road, do the whole thing
work, make money, pay your debts, listen to that song
it's shitty anyways.

your right leg is shivering ever so slightly
slowly the heart rate goes down
you think of that movie barefoot and smile
the moon has turned its light on.

yes i do, i do!
that therapy thing
now go and blow some smoke rings
maybe somebody hears
maybe you ll come to your senses
maybe you won't fear.

this is it
it s okay
this is it man
you are dead for me

or so it feels
keep on going your ways
they are yours
they won't cross mine
i belong to the living

and trust me that's just a weak solace

sometimes

sometimes
we have to.
get the act together and not indulge
not buy ice cream but keep on walking
sometimes
it helps when there is no money
sometimes
you have to be a big girl now

CV no more
it is night and dark and i should write
write about my life, who i am and why i am so great
it´s weird
and i walked so many miles today, tired in the subway
sitting, watching, waiting
enrolling
going through some growing pains
is it right, is it right, is it right?
maybe i should have..? no?

but no, now everything is done
only the hunt for money now
some cute pies drifting by in the dark
like fishes in a fishtank

in that kitchen that felt like home
full of turks, italians and us
with laughter, good food and beverage
with warmth, light and love
i caught myself getting caught sometimes
like in a spiderweb
thin, filigran
so fragil
yet so sticky and so powerful
memories, details that you should have never let me know
and it hurts and it shows
but then i can let go

and when she says, but it´s over now, no? i mean, in your head
i nod
distantly
decline to get into anything
just sketch figures
mysteries untold

and when i get on the net
there is a small hello
and almost no emotional response
on this side of the screen

angel

She fell way deeper than I did.
And she fell hard.
It's not like I had to be there to understand her and what does that mean, anyways. Fully comprehending her is beyond any of us.
She was the muse and the angel, the falling one.
When he looked her in the eyes, he knew but she didn't care. It had corrupted her mind, her soul already so far, that she couldn't feel any warmth permeating through. She was cold and cold she felt, dismissing his words like pennies and tokens.
Beggars, so her words fell like razorsharp swords, beggars will pick up the pieces, and left.
It was another one who picked her up, way later, in a shady room in the maze of the old brewery, her eyes rolled back into her skull and her tongues shivering in jibberish, pale, so pale she was and so skinny, retreating from her physical body like a tired army in defeat.
But, she had wanted to taste the utter senselessness of defeat in a battle that wasn't hers. She had wanted to go so far, so far down into the innermost chambers of hell's luciferic disguise, she had wanted to be saved maybe, and she was, somehow, and in a way.
When I met her again the scars had healed all the way through, she was still sticky like glue but she walked upright and tall, as tall as her little body allowed her to, anyways. Her savior was still with her, every now and then, she told me how she had to light herself for him like a tired old moist match, every time she met him.
Once the flame burns, she said, it's warm.
Warm, once it burns.
Often she was too tired and a little too cold and then he had to light her, once, twice, three times. Add some tinder, add some tender, then it would go.

She was the angel in the old abandoned armybuilding, the one curled up on the round window sill like a little cozy vulnerable cat, the one discussing issues of health and education with a fervor I had missed in so many people.
So natural, so gracious. And when she danced, she moved the air in waves that hit the beholder like a smooth fireglow and when her lips met yours it was like melting, so it was.

And when I look in the quiet of the nightriver, when I throw my eyes into the sullen skull of this starlit sky, then I think of her and how we know each other, hold each other in a comforting distance, know each other in our darkest facets and the brightest heat of love and light.

She fell way harder than me. Further and harder. She bares the marks on her limbs and deep scars in her soul. But we have in common the courage to go and see, the sickening curiosity and fascination to visit the other side, where we know we don't really belong. The knowledge that we are but wanderers.
Wanderers between worlds.

Angels falling
Falling wide

wide sky

the sky is so wide, so wide.
swallows flying, clouds telling stories all day long.
I stretch slowly, I stretch all the way.
Africa I welcome you, oh, wide wide sky.
Somewhere out there I feel my destination waiting for me.
And a warm feeling spreads throughout my whole body.
Ah, my heart, you know. I do want to embrace you as the dear dear friend I know you can be. I love you so, even though things can be so heavy. I love you so. So so so.
It is okay to go wrong, all the way, it`s okay.
When I follow my star and dance along, accomplish what I need to, then I will turn around and say welcome, at last, again.
Welcome, to just
Be

things have changed/what a wonderful world

Layers are practical. In San Francisco everybody knows that. Big bags to store stuff in too... If you want layers you also need storage space.
So I get back to some old songs and they are feeling better now. There are memories of memories on there now, like a sugar coating, thin but visible. I try, you know, and I try not to be cold...stay warm, a little. Decide, go for things. There are so many things to know. But never will I forget you. It is very hard not to talk about you but it's getting easier every day now. I see the dilemma you find yourself in. The wish to make it all good and the despair when you see it won't work. But you were so good in making it good, all good, bubbaloo. It's not like you think it is. You just can't see it the way I see it. It's the glasses man. Take them off.
Oh yes, things have changed. Things have changed. I meet people on the quiet streets of southern Germany, they smile and laugh, can't believe that I am back, what are you doing now they ask and I smile and hand out the facts.
My wishes reach beyond those measures, however, songs can't faze me so much anymore. I slowly let go. The beauty of effort ridden cultural creme de la creme. The Russians, the Italian, the French, the Spanish lady. A theater festival, a juggling convention.
My dreams belong to Motpellier, a city in southern France, a beautiful brown eyed girl in it and a possible adventure to get there.
The clownschool Dimitri in southern Tessin and just the whole great world in front of my eyes.
It IS a beautiful world, Louis, it is, indeed. People are just so damn fucking concerned with their own petty lives all the time. Too busy to realize: what a wonderful world.

dont think about a pink elefant

the music got me, ah, and i am in a beautiful old German town.
a good day. i was at the european juggling festival. man. that was amazing. mind blowing. all these people. just my kind!!! and the men... that could be a place to find a companion! to travel and ravel and unravel.
yeah.
please, dear, don´t think about a pink elefant now. don´t.
not about a black one either. not a white one.
let it go because you know that you are so happy now. the past, you can´t change it. sad things pass. good things pass. it´s all in the books.
the other day i tried to put that cigarette out and the tip just would´t get off. it was a real struggle. it clung onto the filter. it wouldn´t let go. and i started to laugh. i had to pick up a little stone and cut it off. and i sat under a weeping willow tree, gazing into the quiet of the flowing river, it was dawning and i was alone. and i smiled as i fought with that cigarette because i really didn´t want it anymore. it didn´t taste good and it didn´t do me any good. i was done with it and yet it clung onto itself as if its very life depended on it. and it did!
because i killed it and it was gone, washed away, ashes to ashes, filter to garbage, and the smoke drifted away, wafting through the midsummer air, into the void.
maybe it will find it´s way to the ocean, to the mother of all tears, and maybe it will stop remniscing there.

She was jealous from the start
I knew she was jealous from the start

But I knew she was jealous from the start

Ya I knew she was jealous from the start

I know better than that
I know better not to be friends with boys with girlfriends
You play the victim and I'll be the bad guy...






SHE didn't know any better.
Despite all efforts to break through she stayed lame
How can such a fine lady be so fucking lame?
Maybe it's just my lamo-perspective.
But I have to say I am just disappointed by people who act so fucking nice and interested but never return any efforts, be it a call, a mail or an invitation.
Stating enthusiasm, sounds like an oxymoron and it is one, but that's what she did. Fucking lamo liars you all.

AA

selfish
it seems now
i should have left
speaking in actions
instead of muttered sounds so desolate and despaired

left you in the gutter
show you what you got
and lost

selfish it seems now
to revel in past kisses
eyes smiling like lillies in morning dew
i could have been stronger
i could have been strong

the should haves
tangled me up
ah this weakness
i curse
strong i wanted to rise
like her
june
and you'd been
john

sunsetblvd

I remember that night when things first broke
and I loved you so much
and so desperately
when I knew that I could never touch you in that longing for her
the perfect untouched one
who died with nothing there to put her to shame
16 years old only or was it 17
I found all these messages
the first time
it was nothing you said
and i cried and cried
at walgreens i bought cigarettes and my mom tried to talk
barefeet i ran to food4less
while you were sleeping
the first time so disconnected
in the morning you tried to make love to me
just so it was all worth the idea
another night on sunset blvd
the motel with that palmtreesign
and Kaspar told me about his travelling plans all around the mediterranean sea
it was 2006 and we were still free
to stay or to go
and it took me such a long time to take a liking to those songs because they were hers
mazzy star
fade into you, putting me to sleep while you were gone
reminding me of a soft night in which you made macaronis with milk
Wilcox avenue at tif's
and later i saw you there again
sitting at the door

but now you just want to be gone
and nobody on your back
so sorry. was i baggage?
i thought it was worth a battle

but now we are gone
it was a wild night
full of darkest promises
that were fulfilled
ah how deep the sting
i still feel
your smiling eyes
caressing
when you loved
me
or so we thought.

the dark side of the moon

You're a big girl now
says he
and Dad says it too
he just meant it in a different way
he meant that I came through
and now he can see how I grew

But I am lingering still
it's at the dark side of the moon
ah, my heart swoons,
this pain it stabs and stings
and there is no time
at the dark side
it's frozen
no warmth
to bring it back to flow

I walk the streets
in my life
sort of hollow
words don't mend
and touch can't explain
it just throbs and quivers
my soul
fastened to a stone

Everything that is possible
and new better things to rise
the horizon just drafting along
the now inexplicably ignorant
to changes that might come

I'm going out of my mind, oh, oh,
With a pain that stops and starts
Like a corkscrew to my heart
Ever since we've been apart.

beneath

Know, that it is in the light it will shine, the smaller the source the brighter the impact of reflection. I have suffered of inconvenient truths. You and I; an inconvenient truth. How things do matter, no matter how much we try to deny it. Lessons to be learned, swept under the carpet, where they multiply to overwhelm us in darkest night.
Strange days have found us and so it was, all that caught up to us later, stripped away, offering our raw hearts to the souls ,winged, daring, yet still too weak to withstand the trials of an adult life, the storms, the thundering silence and the aftermath. Doubts.
The playful dance, the between, got smashed and damaged, I cried my fears and tears out, you disappeared in paralyzed terror, sliding towards the culmination of a dynamic emerging from within your soul, the gaps, occupied by urging, darker forces.
My inner roundabout circles imploded, exploded, lava trickling into all orifices, suffocating, suffering, accusing, instead of aMUSEing.
What reads like a predictable story of tragic napoleonic delusions of grandeur in love and relationships of young adults, contains the poesie of a fresh, blossoming haiku with the scents of a bursting cherry blossom tree.
Inbetween the lines, in the fragil space of eyes, hand and hearts talking, where words can't breathe, nor reach, nor teach, are the images of a love that is stronger than anything, permeating in ripples the eternity of the sea.
I will never forget, how you sat naked, playing the guitar, your dark curls framing your loving eyes, mouth, ears, chin, cheeks, nose, eyebrows, how your hands almost shy, made the instrument and my soul sing, giving me the love that I have always waited for. In this intimacy that exceeded eroticism I could feel my wings opening, ready to fly, my heart, in you, to you, with you, straight.

excercise

like working out this gets to me
i am dreaming words but in the morning, gone, words gone.
i am caught in a time capsule with too many possibilities, the world ruttling on my doors but i can't hear a distinct voice within that rumble.
worlds go by.
moments pass.
i fall
i rise
i

in the dark

sometimes it feels less scary to write in the dark, where things are blurry and less distinct. today it is grey outside and the weather is reflecting my inside. somewhat confused I gaze into the void. I can't be too scared but I feel a little tinge of fright inside when I think about what I have done and where I went, I definitely want to find out what I can do to protect myself now. I am so full of ambivalent notions and feelings and thoughts about lifestyles that present themselves to me in such vibrant and convincing manners. we don't know anything. and i don't really want to know that much. I just want to sing and dance, sometimes, without thinking too much.

as Peng says, there is a spiritual war going on, and things do matter.
This has, incidentally, always been my biggest question.

elation

almost like a fleeting memory of the scent of a blossoming apple tree
nothing really, but it was there
soft and light
and nothing really
but oh so elated.

the completion of it in the sun lit ship-room, with so many windows and pink blooming trees in the yard was like a butterfly kiss on my soulwings, holding the appropriate space for what was and what is and what will be.
honoring my love and my journey to you, and yet opening new doors to move on with it.

it.

impossible

as i was walking home, swinging, down the beautiful alley way i heard the crickets chirping and some birds crossed the evening kissed sky, alive, with clouds dancing with the warm early summer air.
and i thought... strange days that have found me, who would have thought!? me, living here in this little cute guesthouse, ten minutes from the pacific ocean, palmtrees in the wind and the eucalyptus!!!
but then, all out of the blue-dark sky i felt that the other situation had been way more improbable, almost impossible, to even conceive of.
although i am someone who likes to look at the bright side of life, the good in the bad, the chance in the challenge...i can't really see yet so much jolliness in what we went through, yes, it was extremely pretty our house, but too many overshadowing nights i spent there alone, clinging on to fleeting thoughts how to be or to react when it should have been just easy and peaceful and free.
don't you agree???
it's amazing to think what i did. i mean, just try it. for a moment. for a fracture of a minute out of your night. every day three hours on the street. on my bike, the bus, the feet. getting up at 3 AM out of a relaxing bath to come meet you at Mel's/ Or make you some food. Getting up early the next day. On the road again. And again, and again.
Never going to the beach. Or running. Or to see Dali. Or so.
And then, after the fall, even not one more cup of coffee for the road.
Impossible.

vent

you little scumbag, see, you already done it, so go, do it again!
what do you think, I care?
no, no. No, no, no.
no, no, no, no, no!? no!

ah, golden the days that I don't know you.
golden, a mind without you.
if i only could be healed from a wound that is yellow and green with pus from treacherous behaviour like yours.
yes, yes, i blame the wrong source, i guess, i guess.
aren't we all pawns in the game?
ah, and i might seem bitter now too.
but sure, you do, you do, you do laugh so shrill, like the bad witch in the tales, your eyes are evil to me and even tho you say you know what it's like.
aw, you didn't wanna destroy my life, so ha, of course you didn't and know that you haven't my life is full on, that's so not the point, the point my dear lady is that you
could suck my dick, if i had one.
and i would pay you, as they should do.

excercise indifference

.




























.

Nick Drake

You never listened with me to parasite

Nick Drake was my person and you said you thought his music is gay
your immaturity cuts deep into raw flesh

Now Nick puts me into this mood
he beams me back to the dark side of the moon
No free ride for you and me no, no more never
won't you give me a free ride
oh and the guitar is somber and dark like an all too present dream
it makes me want to cry
the joy of sharing is suffocating my loneliness

the valley below

the pain ebbs in again
it s okay, okay, okay,
okay, i can hear circkets again, ancient sounds and music
oh but how it hurts
i am riding the wave again,
riding it again, down into the valley
only little fires lit up
a last one, time again
and i go, go, go

can hear the congas, can hear them now, underlying, quietly,
filling
the spaces between
carrying me to the night
one more time
a little time just one
small
little sparklets flying through the sky
falling from my finger tips
and you, you can you hear them
whispering
ebbing in
ebbing out
on wind waves
tapping on your skin
like little small sparks
waking up the dark
waking, waking, waking the soft again

I Have No Regrets Because I Have Loved

11/22/06
This really is Good Bye (as in God Bless Ye, which it is derived from)
say nothing no more
wonder
awe
gazing in the distance
i caught the glimpse of your eye
out of the glimpse of my eye
my mouth smells of fresh love
like cotton beds in the morning
fluttering like wings in the air
somebody's loving hands have
smitten me with miracles
I love your face
I love your voice
I love your heart
I love you
Your courage and your searching
Your hands
Your touch
Your feet
Your chest
Your lips
Your hips
The secrets
Can't ever forget what you taught me
I'll try and be true
To myself and you
To whatever it was that was calling you
Can't ever forget how it felt to kiss you
Again and again
Like coming home
This really makes me eyes wet
And your memory lingers
Between my thighs with sweet sighs
To see you in the morning sun
And in the moonlight
Feeling your embrace like a nest
Me nestled into your arms
Saying I love you
and meaning it.

black coat

how he entered the room
in his black coat
and black glasses too
black curls framing his pale face
all so put together

i knew
but nobody else could have been able to see
the storm of destruction
beneath it all
the utter despair and bottomless abyss of fear
just seconds away
before we found back into each other's arms

it was all so surreal
and so good
and so crazy
sadness distorted by the extremity of the situation

how he walks
and talks
so tall
and so good
they know that
that they can see.



fragility

geometry

he called when we walked to the mac store. telling me about his cousins baby and you asked who he was. my computer died now and i moved and we are gonna hang out. funny how things can get wrapped. i am scared but sometimes that's how it will be. like you couldn't believe that you followed through with it. that you really did it. how devastated you were. i guess i can be devastated too, despite all reason and better knowing it. i can't think too much about it otherwise i will have to run into the ocean and just dive away into a new universe where different things are possible.

nothing is impossible.

in a way that is reassuring. but there certainly is something about crossroads and which way you take. sometimes there is no turning back only moving on.

i hope this road will lead us to freedom and the love we've been looking and living for. because you know, despite it all, I Love You as it is and as it will be.

like my dad said...

first love never dies

my heart is scared, fluttering inside my chest, I have to admit I still do of course naturally miss You and refuse to believe that this is it. Against my better judgement of course. when you saw me you said, jesus, you are a mess, get yourself off the floor I did it too, get yourself together and try to move on but all I really wanted to do is to refuse any more growing commands and rest in the earth for a while. Or on clouds. I just want you to still share special moments with me, let me know about songs and thoughts and nothing whatever anymore.
okay. that's that!
and the other thing: I am scared shitless thinking of leaving. it's going to be so tough .I am not trying to talk myself into it it's just, I KNOW it.
fuck. oh well. i was really really scared coming here too. so it's fair, it's okay, it's normal.
but I am a wreck right now.

strange

It is the strangest
how i ride into the evening along that coast
and feel this definite feeling
so blurred but distinct
too distinct almost
but even it's distinction doesn't make me so sad

and it makes me wonder

all those strange days that found us

and here i am
here we are
apart

and i still wait for the hurting

In the summer it was different, many life times ago
when I knew it wasn't done
I knew there was some more writing to be done
even with you at the other side of the moon
I knew it
We both did
And I hear you saying I feel bad for you, do you have fun? Don't be sad...
And I am surprised to be honest when I say I am happier and don't feel bad for me I know my kind of fun.
How about you? do You miss me? do you have fun? do you feel sad?
Do you crave time with me, closeness to me?

Maybe we are just gone. Gone with the wind. And nobody knows if we ll meet again, we might, we can, but this time it feels free and soft like a blue kissed summer wind

it's almost pathetic
how i wish
this was true
for anyone who is dying inside
i m incapable of telling
whether there is sarcasm or zynical thought involved
i just throw myself at the idea and cling to it for it not to disappear like yet another mirage in this desert i'm finding myself in.
thirsty for miracles.
real life miracles such as
change is possible

yesterday night... he asked me why. why do you fall for guys like me. who are dying inside.
and i cried inside.
i can only guess.

books

i am in a library now.
i have a library card
and when the doors swing open we enter another world
people, with noses buried deep in books and thought
looking like mice
and
the sun is shining out there
and
my love is hiding behind the blankets of confusion
but i know
it is there

Sunset: Loving who is dying inside.

The Dark Side Of The Moon

Yesterday I read a column in the Times about an online project that asks people to tell their life story in only six words. Hemingway style.
This is mine: Sunset: Loving who is dying inside.

you don't know what it's like he says and spits on the roof. his wary hand doesn't find the cigarette, stuck in the corner of his mouth, it went out, out like his eyes died just seconds ago and the lighter is just a faint replica of fires we once knew, faded memories...
all this, i have seen before and I don't have much time. The old brickstone building, with the mysterious redlit windows in the dark. The Japanese Restaurant I won't ever afford. The hills. The castle. The street. The dirt. The dizziness of life on the fast lane.
I swallow some tears, they are salty. Look away. Look back. His words tumble into the somber darkness like puppies that just learned to walk. I could feed them. Heed them. But I don't. Tonight I just listen. Hold his arms. His back. His heart.
I know that I don't know. At least that much. How can such a lucky person and such an unlucky person be so in love?
That's what I would like to know sometimes.

Later, on my old futon that I bought for twenty bucks from the creepy old Russian guy, I swayed back and forth between heart beats and heavy breathing.
You know nothing about what it's like to love someone who is dying inside.

dazed and confused

I admit that I'm still confused. That I still don't get it. I tried. Went there, not all the way but some of it. Fell in love with those who went. Blue comes to mind, by Joni Mitchell. She kind of puts it the way I felt.
But today in the morning I woke up with a cry in my throat with an urgent urge to bury my head in pillows and keep the blinds shut and just wallow in my confusion and sadness and mourn the foggy mysteries hidden beneath societies faces.
The beautiful melodies of the nearby church bells wafted through shut windows and blinds. His hands told me something his laughter his voice, but maybe I wanted words, explanations, empty rationalized figures drawn into the air between us.
Why is it 'normal'? I don't know life that way. Why do people need to drink and be dazed, why does it seem so normal to go and have a drink at a bar if you wanna go out and have fun?? My sister just tells me I can figure shit out only for myself. I guess so. But I just don't know life that way. I know it is akward to talk about it like that. I am not throwing stones. I am just really confused and sad. Sad because i don't understand and because obviously I think my way is a beautiful one. I guess I am not alone. Isn't that what the whole world keeps fighting about??

I doubt
I wonder
That there ever could be true understanding...Ever...




Blue, songs are like tattoos
You know Ive been to sea betore
Crown and anchor me
Or let me sail away
Hey blue, here is a song for you
Ink on a pin
Underneath the skin
An empty space to fill in
Well therere so many sinking now
Youve got to keep thinking
You can make it thru these waves
Acid, booze, and ass
Needles, guns, and grass
Lots of laughs, lots of laughs
Everybodys saying that hells the hippest way to go
Well I dont think so
But Im gonna take a look around it though
Blue, I love you

Blue, here is a shell for you
Inside youll hear a sigh
A foggy lullaby
There is your song from me

she said

she said
what about your blog
and i dont have internet as i used to before
on my old street they held a gun at the site manager's head and robbed 1950
it's funny
because
the thought of leaving makes me wanna stay
but when i look at the websites of my old college in berlin
and
things you know?
i get thrilled.
awww. how amazing it all is and was
can't wait
life is too exciting

and i think
God,
how lucky I got
no offense to people who dont find luck in their lives because i know some who are blind like that
but
man
I don't know

where are you all my friends, where are you hiding now?'
certain things i dont even wanna touch anymore with my words
wounded and with raw flesh gaping at me they simmer in the heat of passions lost and forlorn.
but life goes on and is beautiful as always. there is a beauty in broken eyes and evenv though my eyes might be filled with tears in response, the light still breaks itself in them and explodes in my mind in all colors of the rainbow.
oh.
the palm trees are kissed by the last rays of the evening sun.
my thoughts wander back to when i loved david and i thought that i would belong.
or even further back to when I occupied myself with insignificant crushes that filled up my writing and longing.
in the end, a lot of those dreams where merely a reflelction of the howling of the wolves at full moon, the indefinable yearning you feel listening to 'Anna's Song' by Marvin Gaye. The glimpse at the impossible thought chance of true love in a romance.
ah.
what a life that is spinning us around.
oh my dear friends.
i can't wait to meet you again, some day, making sweet love in music, art and conversations.
i can't wait to go dancing with you again. ah, oh yeah
this is my song

a glimpse

it is repeatedly
not what is said
but the inbetween
that touches our hearts
and mends them together
in a dance
that says in silence
so much more
than anything i could ever say

.

But I remember Andi.
It is a story of words although I remember vividly how he lit his self made cigarette in the dim warm light of an old oriental lamp. His books and music collection matched my taste and the taste of his body was fresh and innocent and warm almost like it was a good thing. Yes, I don't remember much of what was said in those intimate hours that led to feelings of complete humiliation and regrets towering against an otherwise cleancut blue early summer sky.
I remember that he had a brother and he likes, ironically, outdoor adventures just as much as I did and while I was daydreaming of us making wild sweet love in wild sweet meadows or in the back of his amiable VW bus he told me about how he made at least seven women scream and cum and explode their brains and it wasn't until later that I understood that it was scarred hearts that remained. And only now I realize the red lights that should have been flashing when he boasted with something that was absent in our time.

Another night I let him come and cum again, he left within seconds afterwards mumbeling some dumb words not giving silence one chance to breath.
It was a nice light setting then too but my friends room and I don't know whether I even made it to the shower to wash off the humiliating feeling dripping off my fingers like a sticky disgusting summer sweat.

The lessons learned were hard to digest. Thinking back never gave me any pleasures except for maybe the first night behind the bar in the vastness of the rusty sculpture park. There were stars at last and mind blowing virginity of the moment.

Everything else is and should remain a faint and slurry blur. My only words that I draw from those moments of silence that he couldn't see are the following:

Affairs only really make sense when you are sexually experienced. When you know what makes you cum. When you have had the opportunity to fully trust someone.

and when the other person knows about the perfectness and uniqueness and the value of a now.

carpe diem
carpe noche

trust

the trust it was broken and you damaged it
it was you
there is no second guessing
and you
who i love

so there was my eagerness to forgive
but i didn't know that forgiving is not forgetting
and it is not a decision
but a long journey
on the back of a broken sad heart.

there was trust shattered
again and again
and
how can you demand me
to trust you

when i feel the scar of that injured trust
rub up against my heart
all this time

.

trust, just as forgiving
a journey
not a decision

fear

it is in fear that we lie.
what an uncomfortable and terrible way of being laid.
it is a bigger fear that unties a knot of lie

it is unconditional love only that resolves the fear beneath.

i am not mad at you.
i feel pity
i might be sad.
i might want to cry into the evening sky.
but
i am not mad

my own imperfections tower above me like a shadow straight out of a nightmare.
you bare with me
i bare with you

maybe that's another thing
about
what they call


love

mater dola rosa

white black red
there they go
in a dance that was never meant to end


feeling like a virgin again
teddybear clutched to sleep
don't know what was
don't know what was

is this a mare from a distant star
is this a dream dreamt by a blossoming

maybe i am
there

quiet quiet calm no storm
there is someone

names dropped, fell on the floor
a stranger will come later through my door
alone but not alone
sharing but not
a delicate balance that could fail or fly

melodies weaving in
the warm sleepy coat
blankets innocent like years before
and no names were known

as violins rise
and violence subsides
and bleeding flowers cry

if i was
if i was
if i am
i will rise again
kissing the morning sun
pale like my breath
trying to grasp a spiteful of delusions

don't know what was
don't know what was

a lover
a star
a moon
a frozen lake
to dance on

blossoming

you love me with such an unexpected tenderness, passion subliminal, that my dreams get swept away in a sweet and swift rush of warmth,tickling my cells, breaking open rusty doors with the ease of a magician.

inside, there is the unspeakable. the fragile that can tear a whole world of destruction and disappointment and disillusion apart. that,which is more than a dream. maybe only poets could grasp these words, these fragile birds, who have been abused and misused for too many times.

outside there are the hungry wolves and vultures lingering and waiting for the words to break into pieces. beauty, veiled in, to leave the living sacred, to protect the heart beyond the palpable matters.

ah, if you only knew what beauty you create, you, you, who kills mockingbirds with words painting the picture of a broken demon, a loser, a pathetic fuck.
ah, if you only knew what beauty you create, you, you, -every moment you touch me with your warmth, your black eyes, your breath so sweet
like a blossoming

beneath the dream

beneath the dream there is a realm of possibilities.

a rain of possibilities

come back

Beneath the surface of the dream there is hell. Dark, rotten, screaming,

DARK ROTTEN SCREAMING