Monday, June 29, 2009

Night Bug

And you will haunt me for some time
A little flying bug in the night, feeding on
the light of my scared eyes
Scared of knowledge, scared of control
and just as afraid of anything you still have to show
Another trick from under your wings

Soaring through my room
your mirror eyes don't care for my face
for the traces the years left all over it, sparse
And the way you shake your wings
tells me you're still wired
back to the roots you can't deny
You're not tired or shy
of being hidden by the shades from my sight

Now stop before you perform such dangerous landing
and think about the ways you've been bending,
getting away with all your flaming speeches
Still, with trembling wings,
you're structure and meat
My skin is the lavish white warning
reaching to your humanity

Trembling wings bleeding under my hand
A killing slap, one of a kind
your hidden cards leaking through soaked sleeves
the signs you ignore now smash your pride
Green you are, for green your blood will shine

And you will haunt me for some time

Thursday, June 25, 2009


It was just my last costume
The one I'd use for the very last time
to fit in every story I made up,
every adventure I'd ever try
Times those were when we all had thoughts
about how happiness grows out of bad fortune
It was just my last costume

It was just the last time
As minorities wouldn't
ever rebel again
The soldiers are ready for repression to begin
and I keep my head low
Waiting for my turn, no one by my side
holding hands with invisible friends of mine
I was waiting for my time

Reduce your fears to stone, little rocks along a wooden path
They will still hurt you, you'll learn the same
and there's nothing to cry about or object
when you're just about to break the strain
It was just a sucession of cheers
and ideas that won't move on
There's no waiting, there's no time

Time is now, bring forth your closure
Conclude it all you started with before
Now where's the giant lying on?

It was just my last costume

Wednesday, June 24, 2009


Better times will come
With the shining, renewing newcomer sun
On us to shed some light
For in the land of confusion and angry stillness,
we're nothing more than neophytes
Reaching for the confidence once heard
but rarely worn or seen revived

"Either this or that", we're asked to believe
Watching moon after moon, late nights from the square window
On ancient hope of mercy and humanity
we're left to feed
though oppression still follows passion ridden

Through blood, belief
or the tone of our faces
a legion still piercing with hatred
as clothes and strips of flesh we still wear get stained
Eyelashes faded to the sunset

From the land of confusion, angry cries soar alone
Watching moon after moon, late nights
From the square window
Better times will come

Sunday, June 21, 2009

The Meal

Suits reflected on my glasses
Who are they, people I can't see through
Handing me dinner, smiling every five minutes
As if it would keep us
from being pale or crude
I forgot to bring my masks
Is it the same watchword once again
"to the winner, the scraps"

"I don't care", eyes whispering to mine
On the table, sweet pastry from my dreams
watches silently
As our killing begins

The scraps, the winners, the sugar
it's all nothing but untasteful, bitter speech
if it were for my own eyes
I'd be light years out of reach
So, through time it shone
and as tears try to rampage out stretched eyelids
the fright to realize
understanding is long gone

So long, everyone
This average person finally leaves
I miss you here, swiftly brushing my hair
and think of the sheet music left behind your shade
Is it only fair that it was never played?

To still live under that almostness
and the failure to conceive
are the average conditions absorbed with the drink
I took from the suits watching my hands, or even so
As if it would keep me
from being great or mute
Poisoned, there's a long way to go

Sweet autumn sunlight, sweet pastry, plenty of space in the room
and you in my head, still playing that tune

Monday, June 15, 2009


Engines clacking
Time reducing
The machinery is coming to life
Love is bringing out the humanly glow
The light
that struggles to be shown through it all
Iron mechanical cry

Click clack the machine
Time is over
Oil receiving
Fuel is pumping through the veins
The machinery is coming to life
No desperation or change, but only love
was ever enough for it to ignite.

Wednesday, June 10, 2009


A bag of bones and flesh had never been
that expensive
As I can write from the point of view of a dirty body
but polished soul
Self-deprecation had yet to be this massive
but I don't hold no doubts about where to go

The place is certain and unclear to anyone else but me
Bright shining bone structure, jewelry
I want to inherit your eyes
As long as I can grow this flower of delights
in the back of my apple tree

Archeologist of accomplishments
You work your way uphill
I love how you make me feel this young and smart
The sky spitting above our heads, but it doesn't matter
As long as you're still and safe in my heart

My point of view always the cleanest
My bones the treasure I'd like to be
As long as I can hide and harvest us both,
in the back of my apple tree

My silent backyard, strong and confident
for every bystander to see.

Sunday, June 07, 2009


There are the bits of photography she captured
All over her rusty years
Small dots of light spawned over a galaxy of dark blue
Universes unexplored caught through the lens
she captured through

Back into that same bedroom,
still healthy and lively
Still in tune
A little girl wrapped in skirts and blouses
Before the morning rises,
stuck between dots of light
and wonders what is true

Impossible to watch her dancing now
and not feeling mesmerized
but just as hard to hear her stomach growl
or the sickness in her eyes
"Beauty is sick", they'd wonder indeed
the crowd drawing nigh
Watching through flashes of glowing stare
the silent rapture
While captured were the oceans of stars colorblind

Through the lens in heart
The beauty, the sickness, the pitch-black sky
and the dots of light
are still the focus of uneasy alibi
Where were we the other night?

Tuesday, June 02, 2009


Walk down this way,
her street of desires scrapped
and thrown out the window
Recycling it all won't do very much
when everything she looks for is shiny and new
Try to jump the holes
along the way
before she concludes you're finally screwed

She pushes you to the tiniest edges
and raises your eyebrows high
just before blowing you completely out of sight

Is it a mademoiselle
A frau or a lady?
You'll find out until midnight
Average danger awaits in the car
And if lost ain't yet the fight
no car or plane will ever take you so far

She writes with hot blood
your name on her dress
But not so fast, when finding hers is a dirty,
harsh little heart
Soaked in mud
still to be understood
Your life like a movie in your eyes
she'll keep on pushing,
but as hard as you try
it's impossible to move.

Yet, her street of scrapped desires
and blown-out smokey fires
still leads up to your room.