#123 (kisses to the gutter)

invaders
photo credit: Matthias Geh

 

I shaped a brick

from toxic waste

oozing through the commentary

of a redundant conversation

I tried fitting it into the wall

quietly hoping it would stick

and make it fall


whereabouts unknown

the sea took all its tolls

the fare was measured heavily

fat cats gave birth to trolls

inside the fortress waving

a torchlight made of pain

the ghosts of the forgotten

a silent choir remained


beyond the wires smiling

their faces shone unburned

weaving some propaganda

no page was left unturned

blew kisses to the gutter

and watched them float away

lost words I barely stuttered

in cellars of decay


28th January 2017

#88 (seven stops)

street
photo credit: Matthias Geh

 

trapped

between disgust

and compassion

watching him sway

and spray

his heavy perfume

of sweat and booze


the girls

with the pigtails

bags full of trash

disguised as dresses

princesses

of fake silver

and fake smiles

wrinkling pink noses

not fake

yet


the guy

with the wavy

black mane

changing seats

in a  rush

one hundred and seventy

strokes of the brush

to tame it

and keep it

that shiny

I guess


and still

my brother

always one bottle

to kill

the only thing

he used to remember

 

 

 

 refill.

his nose

glowed like

Rudolph met Tina

in her usual demeanour

and high as a kite

she was

ugly

but bright


*16th December 2016

#82 (murdering moments)

light
photo credit: Matthias Geh

 

witholding

every single thought

letting them pool

inside their pale

bone cage


sharks

circling within

my mindwaves

biting a sudden flash

of inspiration


a dead old moviestar

brought back to life

the blessings of celluloid

a waning dream

I saw fleeing

around the corner

when all the streets

where paved with tears

and the blood of

thousands

fed the gutter


bereft of

every single doubt

I drained the mist

of memories

seeing the past

leap into the future

murdering moments

of a vicious

timeline


vapid vows

from treacherous lips

all that glitters

is not gold

so I’ve been told

as I throw a promise

into the furnace

of disillusionment


10th December 2016

#69 (dark spots on white cloth)

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA
photo credit: Matthias Geh

eerie calm

induced

by the dense  fog

filling up the city

and my lungs

cold grey particles

leaving a wet

question mark

on an old tree trunk


forgotten

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

oblivion


*27th November 2016