#72 (the demons feasting time)

photo credit: Matthias Geh

constantly craving

finger’s food

the wordflow steady

like his mood




his mouth is mute

swans sailing

on lured verses loot


the tides and

stranded rhymes

he feeds the demons

feasting time


sweetness out of tune

the lines walk under

waning moon

inside outside

seem all the same

the gazers collect

what he tamed

for now

the faraway

is near

there’s nothing left

of hopes and fears

it all connected

‘tween the shadows

his grazing eyes

on dark-hued meadows


an isolated crowd

of pigeons

feathers rustling ’bout

the prize

of beauty

an abyss

his lips rest sooty


photo credit: Matthias Geh





1st December 2016


#71 (unsheathing empathy)

photo credit: Matthias Geh


for fury

not for hate

I wish to

use my voice

like a storm of knives

cutting away the festering flesh

of ignorance and lies

if Justice is blind

let’s unveil

the brilliant darkness

behind her blindfold

let it blaze a hole

into the universe

burn away the

ties of polite disarray


with all my might

stop listening to

the half-truths and lies

remembering the history

of my heart

unsheathing empathy

with an open mind

*29th November 2016

#70 (withered love notes)

he had created a nest

out of books

and old dishes

built a cocoon

from theories and figures

feverishly scribbling down

other people’s ideas

searching for oases of joy

in the desert

of academic seclusion


his lover

came knocking

peeking over

the paper walls

writing love notes

and pinning them

to the barriers

of this self-chosen prison

just to see them wither

like the last flowers of fall


he  writes for his life

writes for his freedom to

escape the solitude

of syllables


and typing

hacking at theories

like a mad woodpecker

picks at bark beetles

seven days

to tear down the walls

and drink the real world


For F. – I love you with all I have!

*28th November 2016

#69 (dark spots on white cloth)

photo credit: Matthias Geh

eerie calm


by the dense  fog

filling up the city

and my lungs

cold grey particles

leaving a wet

question mark

on an old tree trunk


like everything else

that got lost in the mist

sawn off and discarded

a relic of the emerald age

dark spots on white cloth

sparrows flocking

on the hedges

I smear my heart

across a brick wall

and leave my doubts

at the doorstep

as I step into


*27th November 2016

#68 (late fall musings)

photo credit: Matthias Geh

Why create poetry

when you could write

pop songs?

Why struggle so hard

with words and verses

tone and rhythm?

Why throw a stone

into the pond

and watch the pattern

of the ripples unfolding?

Just aim the stone

at someone’s heart.

Don’t worry

they’ll be fine

It is not a real stone

and you’ll miss anyway.

Why do you care

so much

about placing

the words?

Just write a catchy tune,

fish for compliments

and throw out your lines

like a trawl.

Don’t worry

nobody is really

going to get caught.

Why do you spend your time

finding words for the scent of lavender

or describing the bud of a water lily?

Just bludgeon them with

a club of buttery nonsense.

Don’t worry,

it still sounds pleasing enough,

won’t really stick

and no one will get hurt.

I am searching the labyrinth

of my soul

for the right words

Weaving arrows

from cold air

 and placing them

on aster petals.

Let them

float down the river

where my boat

is sailing on

pure imagination only

waiting for someone

to pick them up


*26th November 2016

#67 (the space between his ears)

photo credit: Matthias Geh


and rainbow moths

unicorns and snowfish

wordlings and tiny silver people

the space between his ears

he liked inhabited

they flew and rode and pranced along

around the spilled words

and the low-flying curses

navigating a path

across the ocean

of poetry


dancing before his eyes

blurred shapes

capturing his sight

the space between his ears

where everything

was a potential poem

filled up with sharp flashes

ripped from sleep

fairies, rainbow moths,

unicorns and snowfish

wordlings and tiny silver people

 went into hiding

the dark heavy blanket

of night

he wrapped it tight

around his mind

the space between his ears

went black and quiet and still

after a while

a candle started burning

tiny folks were returning

when sweet gloom

filled the caves of thought

and shadow verse

danced on the walls

that grew wider and

Morpheus’ kiss

left his lips

with a single


*26th November 2016


#66 (overdue tears)

photo credit: Matthias Geh


upon a dime

the fading image

of a dead leader


by time

and her nails


the pan

always hungry

never full

too often dismissed

as she rushes

the pavement

a painted

human speed train

reaching out

 lined hands

a glance of deep amber

when worlds collide

and the train



overdue tears

sprinkle on concrete

a wet promise

kindness rules

as leathery fingers


young hands

manicured to perfection

and true contact

is made

while pigeons

are telling the story

of a fallen queen

reigning over

the sidewalk

*24th November 2016

#65 (the softest trace of ash)

photo credit: Matthias Geh


he was cradling

a dead dragon baby

in the ashes of

a cliff nest

when the present

caught up

with his

grieving heart

sliding down

the smooth walls

of a mountain

he used to call home

before the past

broke its promise

and stranded him

in the world

of quiet

between the words

no place left

to grieve


his aching soul

pouring down

the waterfall

of collective misery

his body broken


yet still

he feels

the things that matter

like dreamdust

travelling on

the south wind


a ride

on a unicorn tear

meant to heal

ban the fear

to be a light

for the future

emerging from

the softest trace of ash

on his cheek

a vow of compassion

*24th November 2016

#63 (how to draw a line)

photo credit: Matthias Geh


whoever said,

there is only one way

to draw a line

ignore them,

break their rulers

and sharpened pencils

and grind them to

a fine powder

apply it

with your fingertips

or with your lips

and spread it

on a virgin canvas

to see where it may lead you

the way to draw a line

is not to draw a line

but giving in

to the pulse of

fingers searching on

a blank surface


invisible dots

maybe your line

was supposed

to become a spiral

there is one way

to draw a line

I’ve known it

for the longest time

and tend to fail in


I like to see you draw

your lines

I cross them

with my inner eye

my lines are dancing

in a circle

*22nd November