Nonsense

SOMEONE
SOMEHOW
SOMEWHERE

EVERYONE
EVERYWHERE

NOONE
NOWHERE

ANYWAY

Licht

Licht
Heller als zuvor
Keine Schatten
Keine Formen scharf gezeichnet
Helligkeit in reiner Form
Farben nutzlos gesucht
Und Dunkelheit
Verzweigtes Dickicht
Kein Ausweg heraus
Keine Grenze ... ohne Ende
Sinnlos, zu suchen.

Ich bleibe hier stehen
Und warte auf des Tages Licht
Ich will mich nicht verlieren
in dem Gestrüpp der Lichtlosigkeit
Auch such ich keine Schatten und versteckte Orte,
wo ich mich verlieren könnt.
Ich will einen Weg, den ich gehen kann.

zufällig

Manchmal denke ich, ob ...
Ist das Leben lebenswert?
Ist das Leben wert, gelebt zu werden.
Wieso, weshalb, warum das ganze Theater,
der ganze Firlefanz um Nichts und Garnichts!
Es ist nicht so, dass das Leben nicht interessante Seiten hat.
Aber es ist wie ein Buch, das zu schnell zu Ende gelesen sein wird.
Und auf der letzten Seite fragst du dich dann wahrscheinlich, was der Inhalt
war oder welchen Sinn das alles hatte.
Denn bald wird das Buch ausgelesen sein, zugeklappt wird es werden.
Und du bist weder noch Hauptfigur oder Statist, sondern einfach nicht mehr existent.
Aus. Vorbei. Für immer.
Bedenke, du kannst nichts mit hinüber nehmen. Wohin auch immer du dich begeben wirst.
Also sollte doch ein Jeder versuchen, alles in seinem Leben zu nehmen, was er kriegen kann,
um es dann am Ende der Geschichte aufzugeben und hinter sich zu lassen.
Ausgelesen. Weggelesen und ins Regal gestellt als Erinnerung für Andere, die Bücher
lesen.
Welchen Sinn hat das Leben, als den, gelebt zu werden.
Zu banal. Zu einfach.
Banal.
Einach.
Banal.

Lost and tried

A fire .... at nowhere nearby the road.
Cold nights.
A paraglider leaving lines on the empty grey ground.
Holding the wide horizon with lightness and cold hands.
Shouting eyes won,t stop to look.
Thousands of screaming birds.
Songs like knifes cutting the landscape into pieces putting one onto another one.
Like melting cakes in little, tiny hands.
Growing thunder makes me hiding away from the heat. Icy waterfalls in my mind.
Getting touched by everything.

Oh, Mensch

Menschen mir ihren Gesichtern, die an mir vorbeirauschen ....
Unbestimmte Schemen. Vages Huschen durch meinen Verstand.
Was sind Sie wert?
Wie Hühner sind sie oft ... immer auf der Suche nach Körnern,
die Ihnen vorgeworfen werden. Pick, pick, pick.
Sie verlassen nie Ihren Stall ... springen nie über den Zaun, über den Graben.
Sie haben ihre festgefügten Zeiten.
Ihr Verstand ist gefüllt mit Vorgaben und Aufgaben, die sie nur zu gern erfüllen.
Denn wie ist es doch leicht, dem Leithammel zu folgen und nichts hinterfragen
zu müssen.
Everyone does his duty ... sagte Admiral Nelson zu seinen Sodaten, bevor sie in
die Schlacht zogen,um für nichts und wieder nichts zu sterben.
Sie taten es wahrscheinlich sogar mit einem Lächeln auf den Lippen.
Ich frage mich ständig, warum es diese Rasse Tier überhaupt gibt.
Denn Sie sind es doch, die alles zerstören und sich gegenseitig überflüssigerweise
auch noch.
Warum gibt es Sie? Nur, damit ich mich darüber ärgern kann?
Okay, auch ich bin von dieser Art, aber nur von der äusserlichen Form her. Angepasst? Nein!
Aber doch dazwischen und jederzeit Ihrer Gewohnheiten gewahr.
Ach, was sie mich doch langweilen und verletzen mit Ihrem Unverstand und mit
Ihrer Gabe Alles und Alles zu wiederholen.
Noch nie hat sich entscheidend etwas geändert. Nie.
Es wiederholt sich immer Alles immer wieder von vorn. Sogar die Querdenker und
die Revolutionen und Umsturzversuche sind immer mal wieder in Abständen
da, um nicht ganz aus der Mode zu kommen.
Als ob da ein Mechanismus im Gange wäre, das alles antreibt und das ein Räderwerk ist,
wo immer die gleichen Zähne der Zeit am Werk sind.
Ach, was sind die Menschen doch glücklich in Ihrer Dummheit.
Am besten vor den Toren der Menschheit stehen und sich den Bauch halten vor
lauter Lachen und aufpassen, dass es nicht irgendwann schmerzt.
Oh,Mensch .... armes Tier unter Vielen.
Ihr tut mir so leid.
Wer bin ich aber dann. Fragt nicht. ich weiss es nicht.
Purer Zynismus, Sarkasmus oder Wahrheit. Wählt.
To be translated .. later

Identity

Let's take the colour red,
let's take the colour green,
let's have a colour without a name to have something of your own.,

Where is it grown? All alone!

So , unfortunately, you can,t believe it,
because it's not known..

surface

Too many surfaces ... again
Papers with quick written words cover the walls.
Every single letter without content.
I cannot look behind the words on the papers.
The room get papered with all those papers with letters on them.
Have I to read all those letters on the papers to be able taking a look
onto the wall behind?
Onto the next surface, where I can look again in surprice and boredom..
One wall is following the other one like stairs walking into distance.
Never reaching an end.
Unimportance all around.
Stairs and papers and an unfinished room with endless surfaces.
Letters, which are finished to sentences, but not being able to tell something.
I can see those bricks, which are in my mood, making me dreaming about
a wall, where is a door to trespass all this surface and surfaces.
A possible step into something, where there is no horizon. No beginning as no end.

whatever

Standing in the passing rain
high on a platform.
Flat land beyond me.
am I thinking about the deep horizon so far away
and the wide sea between
so I would have to swim for long
Island waving towards me
to take a rest on their beaches.
To get relaxed from all
Birds high above sailing in the white clouds
Are singing my melody of an untravelled way.
But accompanying me on my way
Through this dessert of water
From island to island .
Never reaching the promised horizon ?
The end or just another beginning of a new world to puzzle about.

Timedance

Days before
I was sitting at the door.
The keys holding in my hands.
Pictures behind the windows.

On the other side of the street,
where the neighbourhood begins,
loads of smiling dust is spinning around.
Covering big and small entitys wíth shiny table cloths.
Catching colours to paint the walls in downtown.
The newspaperman is praising daily illusions.
And endorsed papers are shooing away.
An umbrella for each to defend from the washing rain.

Up the stairs there will be lines and figures.
Structures with falling sides.
Bit by bit a milky melody is coming up.
Candles in the wind have no lights any more.

No end .. so to be continued
with scanning fingers
and asking eyes, who want too much

simple

Impatience
Pain
Lost dreams
Forgotten roads
It,s only me, who is
making mistaskes
I was so afraid of.
I was so afraid of
Was I trying to bond someone? No.
But I guess, it appeared to be so
I did not take time enough .
I could not wait.
I am so angry about.
Did upset someone, I guess .
Someone, whom I really admire
I did not misjudge. I cannot think so
I am confused.
I am in strange moods .Confused.
I know, what I am missing.
I know, what I could loose. But I really don,t want to.
But what to do now ... not simple.
Hiding away would be stupid.
Closing the past stupid as well.
I will wait in an empty corner. Alone.
But i don,t want to go away to far.
I have to let time pass by, because I can,t believe,
that it did end.
Something went wrong .
So, I have to learn to wait.

Now, my hope will become my best friend.
And the visions in my head .
Though they are not called by myself, they are present.
But what is so curious all about, is, that I did get something,
except my sadness
There is something new inside
Can,t describe it really .
It,s there . then it,s gone again
Don,t want to talk about
Want to hold it as a secret.

Vision

It,s time .
But I did loose my clock, that I never had .
I got some knowledge about time ... learned from other ones .
The structure of minutes and hours and the little seconds inside .
That,s what cut our lifes into pieces .
Come on, run. It,s time to do things .
Don,t forget to follow the rules .

Day is starting with daylight .
Night comes, when the light is switched off .
That,s all, what one has to know.
You have to fill your life with freedom from this time around .

Tick . tack . tack . tick .
Making crazy noises ... clocks . clocks .
Running is your job, not to loose a single little second of this chaos .
Little, very tiny structures, smiling because of our headless running around,
like it to see us moving so .
Hurry up . Didn,t you see this second running off .
Just a part of your so fullfilled life .You won,t get it back .

I don,t have structuring clocks, making loud noise in my ears .
I don,t need them to listen to life, that is surrounding me .
Looking for freedom without being divided into segments of industrialisation .
Get a rebell . Get a rvoluzzer . Take that chance .
Get away from time, that bonds you to be always aware of time limits .

Trance

Coloured whirlwinds

Subways and Emotions .
Blankets are hanging around filled with people .

The grey wind talks in a little corner .
Whispering .
From time to time he is laughing .

The twilight is too slow to move quick

My eyes are opened wide.
While I am sitting beside,
I can feel his restlesness .

Waiting for a train covered with noise.

Fixed to this place for ages,
he wants to move around again .
Dusty .. rusty .. grey .
Grey means walking into dark.
Not a very long way.

Earthquakes and dark nights

His long coat will follow him,
clean roads left behind .

While the rain is falling down,
waterdrops are dancing on umbrellas and faces .
Water will clean the air and clear the dust .
The grey wind may get soddened.
Irritations will follow every step

Do you feel that silence of a single drop fallen from high above ?

A story, that is not told, yet

Forgiveness

Touched with soft feathers,
Injured with frozen blades

Cutting emotions into pieces ..
scattering them anywhere ..

Wings of a bird, which don,t want to fly today
Only sitting in the old oak tree -
singing and dreaming

While time is passing by

Stories, that are told ...... somewhere

The little yellow shiny bee is busy
Wants to move around in long and slow spirals
Flowers, which are opened wide

Time stands still
Don,t want to pass by

Wind is laughing
sauntering around looking for a paper, which wants to be moved
Changing life page by page
Dying leaves are hiding, not to be blown away

Forgotten past

Screams of joy
The butterfly tries to sail with the wind
Her colours are painting the air with emptiness
Blue, green, white, yellow - unknown

Time passes by
- leaving clocks and hours behind

Broken structures

Stupidness

There is a place somewhere .. May be. Wherever.
You may step around like a hole in the air.
Windy pictures guiding your way ... so you cannot loose direction .
I am waiting for the wind .
Questions, questions, voices ...... again and again .
Crossing minds time by time .
Emptiness . Cries ! So much .
Help . Help . Help .

What is this all about ?
Can,t help myself ? No !
That,s not true . But - cannot help in believing what,s around me -
my eyes - my ears - what they see - what they hear .
What is life about ? What at all ?

Life is a dance .
Can you hear music ? That sort, without tunes ?
This one, that makes us moving all the time of living .
So the dances move on .
Just by its own . No dancer anywhere .
So darkness everywhere .
My steps are running away with the air . So invisible .
Not visible .
They are just walking by their own and so I am following .

Between them and me there is a wall without a door - without a window
to look through .
But I saw some ladders to climb above ..
to meet my steps on the other side .

And there without any kind of disturbing things - me and my
moving in life - will do a great and colourful dance .

Do you want to take a look over the wall, seeing yourself dancing ?

So, let,s open the window, while I am looking for a ladder .

unfinished .. endless

Sometimes .. yes sometimes I want to cut my brain off....
Would like to take a sharp knife, holding with both hands and cut it into pieces.
Why shall I have one, when it seems as no one else has a brain to use.
It doesn,t seem, as if people really are using it. Especially to think about their
own steps filled with no sense ... with nonsense .....
It,s difficúlt I know, but suggesting that there is a brain, they should start to use it ...
but don,t doubt about, that time will not come, when humanity in its whole
starts to think about itself.
So the world around will stay filled with bodys and brains with unused brains inside ..
Figures, marionettes, used and forgotten ones are running through their daily nightmare
and even in nighttime there is no sense inside their doing.....
Waiting while sleeping for annother uncontrolled day.....
Really nothing they can have a decision about by their own ....
USED FROM LIFE TO ACT AROUND AS IT WANTS.
I want to play the piano .... wild and free ....

Thinking .. what ? Thinking ?

Crazy words
Heard all around
No one there dicussing them
Crazy thoughts
Everywhere
No way to know all about
While I am sitting at my edge
taking care for my own
the daylight comes to its end
So the daily nightmares close the doors
and leave alone all these who did not got it at all
All of these humans who forgot
all things they have thrown overboard.
No individuality anymore
Everyone is happy taking the same steps
as the other ones and all the rest
so .. how far did you step into normality?
I hope you did not loose sensibility ...
Don,t want to get infiltrated
from all these common movings around me
I always want to try to choose my own way to be
Changing ... Choosing .. Looking .. Asking myself
Where am I and where do I want to be.
Who are you .. perhaps the same .. No, not at all ... but perhaps similar

flying bee

such a little step

Words .... written on that wall behind me ...don,t know them .............................

to exhausted and tired of daily life to turn

around .....................................

so I could read them

But I guess there is nothing new inside ....

so I stay leaning back ... staring into sweet nothing

thinking about my own

Some times I want to cry

loud and louder ...

louder than everything around me ...

so only I willbe there .....

only me and my crying voice ......

all this stupidity

all this madness

all this greyness around

all these empty brains around

... all running in circles

..always acting the same way

all these same spoken words ... poor words ... missused

...come on world ... leave all these behind you

come to me .... hide yourself ...

into my heart

into my mind

take place .. take a seat ... rest and stay

don,t any longer mind about all those people

.. are they really so empty

.. are they really lost for their own life

.. did they all loose their dreams

poor world .. come with me .. to my own star ...far away ....

come on .. come on ..

I lost it all ... did a big step away from all

...settled down in loneliness

.............but watching and looking around

.seeing, how world is moving and I am angry ....

Sometimes I am very angry .... about all this

and I can,t help myself ....

So then I look for a corner ... for an edge

,.. to sit down

.. to close my eyes

.. to shut my ears

.. and thinking about being far away

... on my own star

so then I am happy, when I am able to feel natures elements being with me..

Why have I to be back

Why can,t I leave all this for ever...

Why am I sitting alone with all these thoughts...

...why ... why ... why ... why

Is there someone outside there

...Please, listen to me

..... don,t be away

Words ... kind of use

What I like is dancing with thoughts .... join me

Be by my side ... running around in our own happiness!

How things can be changed ... ?

roadside

I was sitting near by the road .. remembering something that had been there before ...
I was sure, that something has been coming up before ... some idea in my mind ...
One, i was thinking about, ..
But the road beside me did took the thoughts away ...
It has been a good one, as i remember still......
I like the road, too .. being ón it ... travelling on it ... just a free mind without an aim
and sometimes even out of time ....
So i do not have to decide which one i will take ..
I will take these both …roads and the thaughts …even the lost ones….to travel with

Schwere

Gedanken-punkte

. Eine Schwere, unbekannt, noch nie gekannt, liegt auf mir.
. . Macht mich müde .. .... ...
. Hält mich unten ... ....... ...
... ..... .... Ich träume .. ...
. Heute erreichte ich eine Ecke aus Finsterniss. ...
. Wege waren da, die sich kreuzten. ....
... .. Lichter standen auf Rot. ...
. Und ich war nicht allein . . . .
. . . Überall standen Leute herum ...
. Ich konnte nicht weiter ... . sie liessen mich nicht sehen ..
. Die Entscheidung schlich herum. ... . ... .
. Von Wand zu Wand zog sie ihren Weg . ... .. .
. Spiegel vervielfältigten ihre Gegenwart .. . .. .
. . Und alle Strassen, die ich sah, hatten kein Ende . . . . .
. Sie verloren sich in Dunkelheit . .. ... ..
. Was ist, wenn ich eine Strasse wähle und auf ihr weitermöcht .. ?
. . Sind dann die Hindernisse weg . ?
.. .. .. Ich werd nicht fragen und einfach gehen .. ... ... .. . ..

geh die Strass einfach weiter ..
lass die Leute und Gedanken-punkte, die
da kommen und dich greifen, einfach sein.
Dann bist du frei und leicht !

pure nature

Nature is always better than .....


fiction


science



But imagination is of highest value ...


and phantasie ..... and dreams

direkt vor dir

„Fühlst du deine Ohren“
„Spürst du deinen Atem“

„Vielleicht ist es um dich herum und in dir drin zu laut“
„Hör doch, wie die Stille klingt“
„Fühle, wie deine Ohren sich auftun und hören“

Dann spürst du deinen Atem - wie er leise -
kommt und wie er - wieder geht
Du hörst..du spürst..du fühlst dich
Du fühlst deine Haut und spürst, wie dein Atem sich
durch dich bewegt.


"Hast du ein Selbstbewusstsein ?
Bist du dir deiner selbst bewusst ?
Wenn ja
dann komm getrost herbei.
und sei doch einfach mit dabei,
wie sich etwas ändert."

Steps to fly

Poison on the roads.

At the abyss. On a grassland.
The wind gently shuffles me forward.
Stay? At this place?
The dread wind whispers to me.
Laughing words of the deep abyss the wind is whispering to me.
A gentle cure draws through me like a wave.
A dark pull jerks at my limbs.
My thoughts want to jump.
Up into the unknown.
Out of my body.
I am standing there and am looking down.
What is expecting me.
The wind beside me will not tell me.
Don,t it knows it?
Will I jump alone or however with it.
I want to fly. To victory my fear and to be free.
Running around and looking.
Seeing new things and sample.
But what keeps me down, is the land. With its bearing strength and power.
So, would I go, I won,t loose nothing, but the ground.
I would win something.
For sure.
But I don,t want to go alone.

Boredom

It,s such a boring time ... though sun is shining
and it,s hot outside ... but inside myself it,s cold.

There is so less around me, that really can amuse me,
even the daily dose of internet cannot change my mood.

It,s stupid ... it bothers me really ..
When will the change take place ....
I am not sure about .... so will it last a while.

It,s all static .. it,s all structured.

Do you believe ?

Because anything is fate.

Once i red, that the only thing that is above us is fate, and that is, what rules everyones life.

But be sure, as soon as you agree in this faith your life will be ended.
So say "NO" to that believe and try to observe yourself as well as possible.

Of course, there may be something like fate ... especially death is fate.
We cannot escape from that fact ... but anything else should be possible
to be changed into that kind of living, that we want to have.

It may not be easy, but with some ... with a lot of ... effort, we will
be able to construct all the daily life situation as we want.

But it is very difficult ... think about changing your mind from sadness into
happiness and think about, how exceedingly difficult that will become.

Reality

Artist.
Artistic.
Antarctic.
Arctic.

Someone told me sometimes, that
making art is a very unreal thing.
without any connection to reality..

But me is thinking, that it is not true,
because even minds and thoughts are something,
that comes out of someones own .. for him/her ... real visions.

So...we should never forget, that even
the imagination and the developing of inner ideas
has a real character
and so it is connected in many ways to our reality.

May be, that the surrounding you are living in,
does not fit to your art ...
but so take your doing for real and not the ppl around.

Are dreams not even a kind of reality ....
everything you learn or have experience with
is a part of that great and big reality, where we are living in.

You cannot touch dreams, visions, .. but it belongs to ourselves...
to that, what we believe to be ...
and you know that even believing into something
can change into a road, that you can travel on.

High above

Good place to stay for awhile

where am I

Confusion

I am sitting at the table ...
in front of me the mirror ...
it,s dark and without a picture inside ...
I am wondering why it is so.

Perhaps the glass is broken...
but perhaps it is me, who is hurt.

May be, that I can,t imagine myself
any longer...
even in the glass of a mirror.