Celluloid Dreams

We watch dreams on celluloid
To escape our own nightmares

We listen to songs of freedom,
Closed in in our rooms

We wish to break free
of the chains that bind us,
even if we hold the key
In our hands.

Oasis

Here I sit
and read my poems to the wind.

Nature, that I missed so dearly,
- pure, innocent divine –
divided by a highway.

The blue sky,
like a shallow Caribbean sea.

Clouds,
the hands of God.

Seagulls,
singing their songs.

I found an oasis within the city
- and it is fake.

Naked in a white room

Step outside the colored world - and enter the white room.
Take your clothes off, and then your watch and your jeweler.
What remains is you, naked in a white room.

No clothes to help you disguise yourself.
No watch to tell you how late or what day it is,
Nothing could be less important here.
No cell phone that gives you the feeling of being important.
Just you, naked in a white room.

The white exposes.
Your pale skin seems dark against the shining white light.
Don’t be ashamed of your nakedness, it’s natural.
Nothing to cover you, nothing to hide behind.
It’s just you, naked in a white room.

Now that you are here, alone, exposed and fragile,
ask yourself: Who am I?
Once you know, get dresses, take a deep breath
and step outside into the colored world.
Things will have changed and you’ll be glad you spent some time
Naked in a white room.

The Colours of the Night

Once the sun descends itself the colors fade away and embrace the dark.
Within hours the brightest day turns into the blackest night.

Once the night sets its black cover over the country life is blind.
A blindness only to be penetrated by the pale white shining of the moon.
A light, a source of hope.

Black the soberest of colors.
Black is the night we encounter every day, but that still scares us, except for the gray creatures that seek comfort within the dark.

Grey, nor black nor white.
Neither scares or safe I’m on my way home.
Grey are the nightly shadows, barely visible but believe me, they are there.

I’m bleeding and the blood flows red, dropping from the blade.
Red, like the wine we drank.
Red, live the rose I gave you.
 Red, like the love we made.

Under a white moon
I collapse unto the gray street
into a red sea of blood
to embrace the black of death.

Empty

„What are you thinking about?“ A question often asked. An answer often given: „Nothing”. A word strangling every conversation and most often a lie.

But on the other hand, how do you describe emptiness? Are there any adjectives to visualize a vacuum? Do yawning voids exist or are they just made up to embody something that is not there? I think it is amazing that it took mankind until the 14th century to invent the number zero, the numeral definition of nothing. By that time people discovered the world with huge boats but couldn’t think of a figure that says “nonexistent” or “nonavailable”?

If you had to tell somebody about your deepest fears, a moment in your blackest hole, would you find words profound enough to meet reality? Try to describe the paralyzing feeling of depression. Is there any language that can express the pressure on your chest, the tons of burden you bear and that hole in your soul?

I tried and failed but tried to fill the ditch with life. Others remained silent and were swallowed up by the gap within.

The man in the mirror


Just the other day, I got up and walked to the bathroom. I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes and there he was. What’s this guy doing in my bathroom? He started talking while he was following every movement of my eyes. He told me about his life. His hopes, dreams, fears and how he became who he is today. What I heard sounded very interesting to me, since I could agree with most of what he said.

He stretched out his hand when he introduced himself. I reached out to shake his hand, but I found myself touching the mirror…

Air pollution rising

A magic wand in my hand,
it's called remote control,
I stare at the black box
which is man's best friend.

Inform yourself, have fun, it's easy.
With the pushing of a button
you're in the game.
And the game goes 24-7.

Wrestlemania, an old movie;
in between ads and manipulated news.
The finger on the "off"-button
but can't find the power to push.

I feel my head getting brainwashed;
dry clean only, do not iron.
I carry on watching what's on air,
as the pollution in my mind is rising.

Wild in the streets

Never mind the people looking,
it's just you and me.

Forget the honking cars,
they are just our orchestra.

Some might call it a sidewalk,
to us it is a dance floor.

Everything around us is turning,
as we dance wild in the streets.

Black gold

On my table a coffee-stain
reminds me of the waking pain.

Two cubes of sugar, a shot of milk.
Dark roast, grinded fine, smooth as silk.

Caffeine, the sleeping people's drug.
Two hour's energy filled in a mug.

Be it a foam cup or porcelain.
It doesn't matter if there's sun or rain.

The black gold from Columbian heights,
on my table a cup of light.

Enjoy the stirring of the spoon.
Mind, the day will begin soon.

Naked

Sink, sank, sunk
I've sunk so deep.
Questions to your answers I do seek.

The dropping of my self-made mask
seems a quite difficult task.

Naked, stripped soul.
Naked, stripped soul

All writing © to author listed here.