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
Day 2293, we.
Poetry, Day's picturespsychology
Day 2292, an unknown urge.
Day's pictures, Poetry
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
Day 2291, life.
Day's pictures, Poetry
Day 2290, intricate.
Day's pictures, Poetry
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
Day 2289, gone with the
Day's pictures, PoetrySometimes you expect something
even hope for it
Day 2288, colorfully stuck.
Day's pictures, Poetry
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
Day 2287, resentment.
Day's pictures, Poetry
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
Day 2286, people and…
Day's pictures
Politics…
the problem is not what to do but how
Day 2285
Day's pictures
Whenever I climb I am followed by a dog called ‘Ego’.
Friedrich Nietzsche
Day 2284, in line.
Day's pictures, Poetry
I looked up today
and saw that not everything
was in line
Day 2283, talking to myself outside.
Day's pictures
I don’t know
I just like to look at these landscapes and enjoy this rock we live on.
Not sure why so many feel the need to hate on each other.
Or need a start, a reason, or an end to all of this.
Is it just boredom?
Is it just boredom that makes all of us invent all these reasons?
Why do we need a reason?
We all enjoy these landscapes at some point in life, that’s what we share.
The rest is just made up.
Day 2282, what if.
Day's pictures, Poetry
What if
your dreams came true
Day 2280, midnight sun.
Day's pictures, Poetry
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.
It’s light
the night hijacked
the clock stopped
life doesn’t begin any more
the end is gone
only my stomach
my eyelids
announce to me
that time
goes forwards
en is not
stopped
Day 2279, stone.
Day's pictures, Poetry
Stuck
in coarse sand
close to the stream
where I can lose myself
~
the rain fell
last time
upriver
out of control
Day 2278, out off.
Day's pictures, Poetry
Nochrisis 