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Dem schoenen Morgen : Diesdem schönen Morgen
es sind die geräusche
die einen anderen klang haben
zwei überschneidene kreise
ein schillerndes insekt
der einzig traumlose himmel
[ der niemals vergisst ]
du wirst dich
hierhin und dorthin
um sein glitzern einzufangen
die unvermeidlichen wolken
unseren köpfen hinweg
Atmen lernenBiege die Finger im Schlaf
les aus der Asche die Zukunft
streich dir die Sorgen mit Fingern
von der Stirn
in Vogelnestern liegen die leisen
Stimmen und träumen
wie die Gedichte in deinem Kopf
lächeln sie bereits
doch wie wir die Wolken lesen
bleibt uns überlassen
wie wir das Atmen lernen
Rainbowich falle in die zeit
wenn ich versuche
den regen zu mögen
das glitzern der tropfen
am schnabel der amsel
dein aufgeblätterter blick
- the colour of rainbows -
wenn du ans ende kommst
vergiss die schaufel nicht
Lunge und LeibRaunächte sprechen für sich
lesen sie doch
die Augenblicke aus der Luft.
Wildwuchs neben Asche und dann noch
die andere Welt
tief unterm Eis.
Überleben kann der Klang
des reinen Herzens nur in der Stunde
in die eiserne Furche welche Zukunft heißt.
Und wer nicht in Einsamkeit ertrinkt
wächst neu an den Rändern der Erde
atmet - findet und (er)zählt sein häufiges
wie noch nie Dagewesenes
an Lunge und Leib.
richtungswechselwenn die blumen das atmen
vergessen welken sie und wie
ist das bei den bäumen fragst
du und siehst dabei in eine
solange ich brauche um einen
stift zu suchen solange brauchst
du um neue fäden zu spannen
zwischen die flugfedern der
meise am fenster
I am a turtleI am a turtle
with the waters of hope
to keep me alive
and hardened to the touch
to protect a soft core.
I am a turtle
wrinkled, wrangled and dry
with a home on my back
and the world before my eyes
slowly growing nearer.
Lipstick Stained KissesMy best friend used to tell me
"Leslie Dianne, I love you and I hate you
all in the same breath."
I didn't understand what he meant.
So I shut him up with lipstick stained kisses
that tasted like my last cigarette.
He was the first boy I ever loved.
Since we were children we made blanket forts,
we played outside and counted the stars.
We both had troubled childhoods.
Left with the bitterness of abandonment, and the memories of verbal abuse
we looked in all the wrong places for love and comfort.
I was 14 years old when I learned that happiness is found at the bottom of a bottle.
Instead of making blanket forts we poured shots.
Slippery nipples, kamikaze's, Irish car bombs, liquid cocaine, screaming orgasms, tequila slammers, you name it me poured that shit and let me tell you,
I can slam down shots like I slam fucking poetry.
but now instead of playing outside we played with each other, no longer able to count the stars because we couldn't see past our blurry double vision, sky in a haz
Shattered StarsBroken glass shines under streetlamps like glittering stars,
Like distant lights from far away,
Pulled from their seat in the heavens,
What force could of pulled these stars from their places?
Razor sharp beauty, glittering like forsaken diamonds,
Dashed apon the ground.
Refracted a thousand times,
In the tiny mirrors,
Each with it's own reflection,
A thousand copies of me in the glass.
As I leave, the shards twinkle behind me.
Shattered stars smashed apon the concrete.
Not AshamedI have become one of those girls who now has to wear a bra under her bathing suit
I thought I would stay a happy size D but now its closer to E
God . . . what did I do to deserve these
Not that I'm complaining, it gave you a reason to look at me
But how is that fair when I am so much more
Sir I speak Spanish, go to college, turn my words into music that dances off my tongue like the belly dancers of India or an exotic Salsa of my syllables
I am that 'wifey' material that every guy claims to want, yet all I get asked for are my digits
A hit it and quit it
Men wonder why I say NO
It is because I could tell your intent the moment your gaze went south and lingered there longer than on my luscious curls, my fierce eyes, or even the sassy mouth that rejects you
I would much rather be called a prude then diminish my shine for a brief moment with you
Now some say I should cover them up or put them away
Would you shun a tiger for her stripes or a lion for his mane?
Why should I have to hide or
Does not see
One that lingers
On your lips as
You get drunk on the
Ghost of her
Fleeting presence, her
Faded footsteps are like
Thunder in your chaotic mind
Does not hear
The inebriated slurs in your
Voice, they are the
Bridges connecting the
Notes of another
Mellifluous cacophony that
Sounded better in your
Head but when
You get drunk you
Tend to forget such things
Does not feel
Heart, it is pumping
Blood with enough
Through it to
Knock you dead, but you
Are too busy showing
Off your best dance moves,
You don't even care
Does not care
About whether or
Not you will be
Sober enough to get
Yourself home the next
Morning, she is
Not your designated
Driver, she always
Leaves before the
Night is over,
She always leaves
Does not know
You have no
Choice but to
Unscripted PoemI tread the stairs of Heaven boldly,
Bright and furious, my stars shine on.
Shirk I not, the call of duty,
Brightest blood, in battle splashed,
My armor rings with purpose.
Twilight wanes, the grasp of night,
my eternal embrace in Glory.
Light calls to me, I will away,
my reward secured and rightly.
In Love With Others MadnessEvery night and everyday i help those who need a hand.
Some nights only one asks for help
Some nights no one asks for help
And on nights like tonight,
Im grateful to suffer this cursid insomnia
I deal with one, and then another comes along,
Again and again,
All night long,
This task of hearing people's cries,
And hearing the stories of their pleading souls
Should be torture to my ears
It's pure, unadulterated bliss
It relaxes me like no book ever could
It was once a task that maddened me
But now im driven insane without it...
Mechta RogozhinaI watched in reverie as my blood slowly pooled on the cobble-stone road. It gleamed a most beautiful crimson under the noon sun. No ruby could ever compare. For rubies gleam only of age; but blood gleams wholly of life.
Looking up one last time, I saw her flushed, still delicate visage beset by a golden halo; and within her hands the dagger that brought forth the gentle flood that now whispered my secrets to the world, from upon the crimsoned blocks of the cobble-stone road.
What Good Is a DayWhat good is a day
When all hope is lost
When the rooster
Has no crow
What good is a day
When your lover has left you
Left you with
No place to go
Did you see
Those tears I cried
Or was that
Just a dream
I'm living in a
Eternally dark world
Was this hell
What good is a day
Without you by my side
With you constantly
What good is a day
Without your smile
For that's what
Makes my day
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