#158 (ironic)

I type and feed

the web of code and letters

the web I willingly throw myself into

and that I’m weaving myself

everyday

metric breeding in the centre

instead of silk I spin some rhymes

building metaphorical traps

glueing everything together

vibrant verse verberating

into the web I built a cage

that freed my inspiration

a cage for my attention

nothing exists

but the rhythm of my fingertips

25th June 2017

	

#156 (the physician)

a crunching sound

too close to home

on rotting ground

a pale, old dome

once held the mind

of one, now lost

whose feelings, thoughts

had turned to dust


a physician once said to me

there was no loss of energy

So dark-red zinnias

growing out

the shallow grave

might have been doubts

to flee a fate

already doomed

in moss and grass

his fears now loom


no stone unturned

no cash unburned

still gazing into

pools of clay

the thread is thin

yet still he tries

to capture secrets

deep within

below the brim

of knowledge’s keep

the soil holds all

forever deep


23rd June 2017

 

 

 

#149 (drowning my fears)

 

IMG_0221.JPG
photo credt: Matthias Geh

the paths between light and dark

glowing in shades of blue and yellow

I drowned my fears in deep sleep

stuck them to a fairytale

I made up from some restless bits

meeting some monsters on the way

sometimes all it takes is

a frame to collect my scattered thoughts

to herd them back into

this fleeting focal point

I trapped them in a blinking box,

tricking myself into

the illusion of control

 

18th June 2017

 

 

 

 

#148 (Ouroboros) [en/de]

you’d lain waste to

the paths I used to travel

all detritus and broken mirrors

some shards still carrying the lies

you’d repeated for so long

they became the only truth I knew

instead of courage you’d sold despair

made me drink Lethe’s water

praising it as the finest wine


I was using up all my charcoal

bringing a rainbow to the empty streets

saving the stubs for the rainy day

that never ended

because you’d ripped every umbrella

with your venomous verse

disguised as compassion


yet I refused your empty vocabulary

ripped apart the blank pages

like I’d shed my skin

too many times

and bled and bled

ghost flowers keeping me company

Continue reading #148 (Ouroboros) [en/de]