
We are not always there
when our brain presents us
with an answer
with the form
we take as our own
wishful guess or certainty
We are not always there
when our brain presents us
with an answer
with the form
we take as our own
wishful guess or certainty
The house I live in on an angel
is leaning me outside
I resist and insist
holding tight
to something unknown
and close
to me
I love the nets that once caught me
they are made so delicate
by hand
~
each knot
in this net
has a story
have you ever thought about that
Sometimes you expect something
even hope for it
I get so distracted
when I try to look
inside
~
your colorful hide
something inside
is clearly hidden
~
come play outside
lets paint your house
then let me in
to help you open
that window
the one that is
obviously
broken
My façade might look dirty to you
my thoughts inside to dark
~
but you holy man
with your mowed lawns and trimmed thoughts
a fifth column of tyrants disguised
~
you might find the likes of mine
everywhere and detest
pouring your world of petty resentment
into our rejection
~
you might seem to win
for now
and await the return of the heimat
and 1933
but the young of mind will more than ever
forget your past
you
and deny all of us your hateful gods
~
progress is not just a word
an act
or a wish
it’s something that happens
rolling downhill to a better place
Politics…
the problem is not what to do but how
Whenever I climb I am followed by a dog called ‘Ego’.
Friedrich Nietzsche
I looked up today
and saw that not everything
was in line
I wrote this poem in 2007 when it was still new to me that the sun never sets in the summer or that it gets dark where I live.