I sometimes wonder what kind of people decorate their house with decorations you can buy in a store. Look at this picture, two lamps that are the same, each in a corner for balance and some abstract plant-like thing in the middle. I know you get these decoration tips on TV, and you can read them in books, but how empty is your life if you don’t have interesting objects to show that come from your own history and a more individual taste. You have probably 4 or 5 stores in the local mall here filled with all these fake memorabilia and plastic kitsch; there is a market, no doubt. If you visit these people behind windows, as you see in this picture, you come into a world where things seem all neat and in order, but besides some pictures, you have no clue of who they are and what their story is. Or maybe you do, and their fake house represents their fake lives and thoughts, thoughts filled with freshly molded ideas from the nearest convenience store. I don’t know, I probably jump to a conclusion, but I still don’t understand the need to decorate your life with all these made-up…moods. Be yourself and not a part of a warehouse full of the same fake decorations.
This room was abandoned, but from the street, I could see the most beautiful light reflecting.
It is a shame that no one is inside to enjoy this treat.
Maybe I can help fix the windows and clean up, so she can wake up again in her old room with the beautiful view.
I stacked large pieces of paper, in my imagination.
They are unwritten with all my thoughts.
I feel them, but don’t know where they are.
Only the reflection shows my darkness.
Even if the thin layer between breaks perfectly, the other will still seep, in.
Perfection is just part of the illusion.
The plants in this window are still watered; there is some life in there.
I wonder who it is, that still lives in this dilapidated house.
Maybe a caretaker waters the plants, once a week.
I only look at one side of the world, through blinds almost closed; the light is too loud.
I see children playing, serious, like only they can do.
I see, where I get into you, your face
it is weathered but still shines.
Your posture, tells a different story,
what part of you is lying.
You can still see inside when you get close enough,
but you will not know if I am home.
Is your dreamcatcher hanging in the window
there to catch your dreams from leaving or entering,
or is it just a gift, a trinket you bought to decorate your life?
You even have a tiny lighthouse that doesn’t work
standing close to it. What are you telling me?
Through a window, we can look outside
or inside if the drapes are open and the lights are on.
One word landed wrong, at the right time
and I lashed, wildly in the direction of you.
Who says these colors are not real
maybe I, just see it all a little darker.
I see that I still have some food left
hopefully for later
All the lines flow in empty fields
like the mind that goes
to the next trail
swaying like on a rhythm
from your perspective
from a distance
in these undulating soils
where your next step goes from where you are
you can only see clear
just in front
of the horizon
when you rest
and look back
Human, All Too Human II
The Wanderer and His Shadow
284 The means to a genuine peace. -No government at present concedes that it maintains an army in order to satisfy occasional desires for conquest; instead, it is supposed to serve the purpose of self-defense. The morality that justifies self-defense is called upon as its advocate. But that means: reserving morality for ourselves and immorality for our neighbor, because he must be thought to be aggressive and imperialistic, if our state has to be thinking about the means of self-defense; moreover, our explanation of why we need an army declares him, who denies his aggressiveness just as much as our state does and for his part, too, supposedly maintains an army only for reasons of self-defense,