A Fool's Thoughts - 2. 11 - 20

11.

He thinks about spring with its fresh green and

tunes. People will be smiling more, kids run

around shrieking. And in the park the band

will play their song. He shivers lightly. Sun.

12.

He thinks about summer with its clear, rich

and lovely colors. People will sit in

the shadow, dreaming about the lake which

is glistening in the distance. Berlin.

13.

He thinks about autumn, with its riot

of red, black, yellow, purple, orange, pink

and brown. But suddenly it gets quiet,

mist veils what was alive moments ago. Brink.

14.

He thinks about winter, with its cold crisp

mornings and the lake’s ice singing by night.

Standing at the shore, winds tug at a wisp

of his hair. Will they be coming home? Might.

15.

Drunken Poem

Short-circuited synapses – touch

Endorphin pain inhibiting systems - run

Fresh and frozen consumables –sculpture

Whip sliced skin - snarl

Four lines of priority actions to be considered:

Early action to develop adaptation strategies.

16.

Poisonous words.

They corrode, cauterize, sear

through my flesh

until all there is left,

is blackened shreds.

That’s when I wish

for a Vampire.

He’d lick over my wounds

and they’d heal almost without

leaving scars.

Wanna be my Vampire?

I’d give you my blood in return.

17.

Spokes whirr, making me dizzy they turn so fast.

The black ribbon seems endless, the line long past.

Palm trees shimmer, blurred stripes in the distance.

An idea of blue hidden, it can never last.

18.

The Ball Game

Up in the air!

jump - stretch.

Fingers curled.

Catch!

19.

In Two Languages

Sometimes I want to speak your language,

one perfect word, I don’t care what it means,

just to listen to its sound.

And sometimes I want to stand in your feet,

not to be you,

but to feel you.

I want to see me with your eyes,

not to judge,

but because I’m curious.

I’d like to jump sometimes,

not to die,

but to fly.

Manchmal möchte ich deine Sprache sprechen, ein perfektes Wort,

ganz egal was es bedeutet,

um zu hören wie es klingt.

Und manchmal möchte ich auf deinen Füssen stehen,

nicht um du zu sein,

sondern um zu fühlen wie das ist.

Ich möchte mich mit deinen Augen sehen,

nicht um zu urteilen,

sondern weil ich neugierig bin.

Ich würde gern auch manchmal einfach springen,

nicht im zu sterben,

sondern um zu fliegen.

20.

Where kindred spirits dance and jolly tunes

drown out pathetic, lofty melodies,

the dices fall and show their bright, white runes,

outshine the drone of their obituaries.