#173 (darkness pierces every corner)

the ones you lost

have now been found

riding like mad

a merry-go-round

the one to hell

and back, my dear

don’t fear the reaper

for she’s near


the gift of life

the prize of dying

we grind and toil

and keep on trying

three wishes granted

if you dare

mischievous fairies

they don’t care


beyond the place

of broken bones

of broken dreams

and thunderdomes

the abyss-born is rising fast

from oceans wide and mountains vast

she wields her scythe

she tears apart

each fiber of our beating hearts


our darkest lady has arrived

her voice cuts deeper than a knife

inside the ashen halls of fate

where gods and demons were betrayed

she’s sipping from the holy grail

black dress, silk mask, a flowing trail


wide eyes so bright

red lips so lush

she rules the night

be still now, hush

as everything falls into place

and darkness pierces every corner

you might turn mad touched by her grace

and everybody left a mourner

 

20th July 2017

 

 

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#135 (within the cup of quiet grace)

the night was old

all stories told

as chastity

had long been sold

the mirrored passion

in her gaze

entranced him

in a scarlet haze

he drank it all

the tears and sweat

his restless fears, doubt

and regret

within the cup of quiet grace

he glimpsed

a single solemn face

the queen of hearts

had lost her smile

was wandering lost

for quite some while

between the good

and mostly bad

her hopes and dreams

were turning mad

her faded glamour

seeping through

the veils of night

soon ripped by spring

the morning light

most cruel thing

and early dawn

the lethal sting

24th April 2017

#106 (there is a whole in the world)

lilies
photo credit: Matthias Geh

a husk

that used to be

mother, grandmother, sister

disguised under paper and frill

the face of death is not pretty

so we build masks

out of chores

and rituals

trying to fill them with meaning

though they only distract us

from feeling the pain


there is a whole in the world


whenever someone crosses


their hands behind their backs


the turkish fairy tales

you used to read me

until I could read them myself

never standing still

always buzzing around

defying frail bones

and a weak heart

for eighty-eight years

until you’ve used up

all the time

and your thread is being

tied elsewhere

*6th January 2017

#104 (thistles around a bruised heart)

oasis
photo credit: Matthias Geh

thistles

he had grown

around a bruised

heart

thorns

pricking soft flesh

scarlet streams

running wild

trauma

stamping black holes

into grey matter

blissful denial

ends suffering

timeless

looming between sparks

of firing neurons

the ghost of a memory

like a lingering scent

of lost lavender

*4th January 2017

 

#95 (recipe against heartbreak)

cracked-patina
photo credit: Matthias Geh

then

you had left

and I was facing

the void

that black gaping

beast

that never slept

took all my sleep

made all food

taste bitter

breathing

felt like drowning

every doorway

was haunted

by your presence

behind every window

your smile kept

piercing me

although my blood

had gone cold

as my senses

had dulled

allowing

myself

to reemerge

making ripples

in a pond I had

flooded just

to dry it out

its depths scaring me

the desert felt like

an oasis

when I was upside down

there is no

recipe

against heartbreak

learn to breathe

again

feel the void

don’t let it become

the centre

of your existence

fill it with the  tiny

blissful things

you meet along the way

even if every step

tastes like a sour knife

make time

mend

*26th December

#90 (on top throned a petal)

people-wait
photo credit: Matthias Geh

noon

was stretching its

pale claws

made of smoke

and exhaustion

I’ve seen

my lover die

under a big, flat tire

cuz’ he tripped on some sleet

his feet caught in a wire

and his head hit the street

how my tears

have grown cold

throughout wanderin’

the valleys of sorrow

how my palms

lost their touch

when I reached for the handle

and relief filled me up

as I crashed

and I shattered

like a cracked, dusty cup

nothing else really mattered

only pain did

remain

broken bones

kept on mending

while the moon

travelled on

no more silly pretending

he was lost

he was gone

watched the snow

paint some flowers

with a brush made of cold

and my sister

came by

and her eyes looked so old

… 

she  had brought me

a biscuit

and on top throned a petal

from a yellow-red rose

 my tongue still  tasted metal

but sweetness touched my nose

oh the smile that was spreading

when my teeth

broke the dough

and just then I was letting

all the misery go


*18th December 2016