sind schüsse aus gewehren

auf menschen, die dem krieg entkommen

auch wenn sie nur herbeifantasiert werden

das wird frau ja wohl noch sagen dürfen

die freundliche maske erstarrt

und bricht an ihrer eigenen kälte

das gesagte sickert

wie öl in

das meer der gedankenlosigkeit

fürchterliche qualität

gewinnt an boden

in den köpfen der ängstlichen

schwelt es


are bullets shot

at people fleeing war

even if they are only fantasized about

you cannot deny my freedom of speech

the friendly mask freezes

and shatters from her own coldness

what was said is oozing

oillike into the seas

of thoughtlessness

creating terrifying ground

in the head of the fearful

it smolders

*matthias geh, 31st January 2016




es sind nicht die

grenzen der poesie

die sie binden.

es sind die grenzen

deiner  vorstellungskraft

poetisch ist ein stück buntes plastik

dass vom nordwind durch die luft gewirbelt wird

poetisch ist das bunte gewand eines bettlers, dessen geruch

dich weiter treibt, zurück in ein leben fern von poesie

poetisch sind die wunden, die worte reißen können und

wundersame worte die sie wieder verschließen.

heilsame worte für jene, die heilung benötigen.

beißende worte für jene, die fühlen müssen.

sanfte worte für jene, denen das leben zu laut.

ungesagte worte, für die seele des poeten.

poesie ist cool und warm und alles dazwischen;

ein gefühlsgraphometer, das teilweise in deinen augen existiert.

*matthias geh, 30th January 29016



my fingers do the talking, your eyes do the walking. can we agree upon that?

some words might confuse

but no need to defuse

if you wish, it’s just there

follow streams made of letters

like a fish, if you dare

for the worse, for the better

catch some driftwood, a mine

if you can – be reborne

bursts of light, let them shine

from the stars you were torn

as I cut out my fears

while you’re licking my face

It is you that crawls near

trails of raven I trace

*matthias geh, 29th January 2016



sag mir

was du brauchst

nur ein wort mehr

lass mich nicht verdursten

unter der quelle deiner sanftheit

die gerade zaghaft tropft

ich möchte deine worte trinken

vom wilden wasser deiner welt

kosten. dein lachen perlt durch

meinen körper, du findest meine hand

feines gehör, mein kopf, bringst mich um den verstand.

*matthias geh 28th January 2016



Although every day I am stirring

the waters of the wishing well

collecting drops in a cupped palm

and pouring them into shape

with some gentle nudges of my fingertips

there are times that need few words, if any.


he is holding my shoulder

my left hand is returning

a carefully placed grip

standing together


*matthias geh, 27th January 2016



#26 (de-en)



fieberträume neben mir rufen

scharlachrote worte auf dem weg durch

stadt -wald


ein regenbogen scheint die mauer hinauf

ausgespien von einer frau mit dunklem haar

durchlässiger schutz, elektronische musik

wirbelt um meinen kopf wie das haar

das ich jeden tag verabschiede

nur ein becher wasser auf den weg

bevor es meinen magen erreicht

fliehe ich mit schönen assassinen

durch stoffbespannte labyrinthe

die schatten voller blutstaub

kein ort, nirgends

keine zeit, niemals

kein mensch, niemand

im stellwerk meines träumenden hirns

trinke ich ein glas voll dunkelheit

no place, nowhere

no time, never

no humans, nobody

in the switch tower of my dreaming brain

I drink a glass of darkness

delirious dreams next to me calling for

scarlet words on my way through


a rainbow shining up the wall

spewn by a dark-haired woman

conducting protection, electronic music

spinning around my head like the hair

I’ve seen off for years

just one cup of water on the way

before it reaches my stomach

I’m fleeing with beautiful assassins

through cloth-covered mazes

the shadows full of blooddust

*matthias geh, 26th January 2016




the sound of the alarm

flailing on his eardrums

time eaten up by other people’s needs

stretching in front of the mirror

he discovers another wrinkle

sometimes he tries to

imagine a wrinkle fairy

that collects them

leaving behing some gold dust

there is one

some call her unavoidable

others call her Botox

injecting themselves

with lethal toxins

cutting away their flesh

and bones, stretching skin

ignoring their own limitations

and the cries of a body in agony

to enter the illusion

of eternal beauty

sideffects: paralysis or death

aphrodite is laughing

she loves to gaze into

old eyes that tell a story

wrinkles cut into a face

like poetry

*matthias geh, 25th January 2016




his eyes

swimming in smoke

burning lungs

world on fire


is rubbing

snow into his face

that turned blue

gasping for air

like a salmon

out of water

moments of

joy and despair

flashing by

as fresh oxygen

floods his cells

he laughs


*matthias geh, 24th January 2016


on red, creased fabric

you are taking all my madness

and adding yours

primal instincts

I am spellbound

by your gaze

 those petrifying hawkeyes

tear me apart

ripping off layer by layer

unwanted cloth

dressed for the outside world

while I could be burning with you

naked, skin on skin

boiling nerves, sweetest overload

your hands supercharging

my body is clay, water, steam

dissolving in your embrace

the tears in red fabric


our passion

*matthias geh 23rd January 2016

[The Ballad of Bottle Bottom Queen]


drunken bodies

paving her path

determined she’s staggering

along the jetty

her clothes lost in

the spur of a moment

a plunge ends in the sand

star bursts in front of her

she stretches and rubs her sore limbs

the day is waning, the headache stays

she wishes to be driftwood, floating

to the seas, into the blue

where exactly she never knew

wanderlust, slowly rolling tears

if only she remembered what she was looking for

the next beer never kept her waiting

a glass of wine, some bottles

troubleshooting with a shot glass

and if she was having a rare fit

some whiskey usually made her quit

and travel back to that soft, fuzzy space

the blunt reality is grinding her

each day this homeless plant

everthirsty, empty glasses

temporary blindness

the more friends, the more booze

that’s what she says

once she killed her dog

while high on grog

it couldn’t dull the pain

resolving suffering but not for long

and shortly follow sobbing songs

Betty Ford was a dear friend

and everybody gave her good advice

subtle punches, still hurting

too often she wandered murky alleys

her sorrow she kept stashed away

like the cheap spirits in her drawers

Miss drink-too-much and dream-too-little

once she lived with a king

reading wishes from her lips

they sailed the highest waves

last year he found a shallow grave

the virus didn’t care for lovers

she’s only finding life’s purpose

with the help of a corkscrew-shaped compass

now she’s made it to the beach

some freedom finally at reach

the sea dark blue, it fits her mood

the water waving like an old friend

too easy, irresistible the pull

sirenlike seaweed is shimmering

eventually she gave in and went

like driftwood, no pain was at the end

and if you see her floating

smile and wave

life had cheated her and

turned her luck into dust

Bottle Bottom Queen

*matthias geh, 22nd January 2016