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