Come on, Lady Luck
Throw the dice, spin
the wheel or draw a straw

tell me which way to go
which of these verses
would make his heart sing

for we poets are sirens
driving men to the rocks
& the clock waits so patiently

in the corner, in on the plan
& the city is a memory
sketched in teenage graffiti

& I'm Iggy's ' Passenger'
on a never-ending train
seeing my youth calling again

passing by me
behind cracked glass
beckoning the imagination

laughing, teasing:
' Are you lucky, Miss'
the answer comes : silence

like before the beginning of the world

neon light of slow
revolving doors in this
dumb, silent sleep

We go to Ikea having taken
the road through the allotments
& the Park which dates back

to Victorian times.
Inside the store
we grab at rugs & bowls

lie on the beds
until someone frowns
at us & we leave to

sit in the restaurant
with Swedish apple cake
& coffee, reminiscing

of the road we used to take
on the M48 bus to the store
which was near Spandau

one of the earliest settlements of Berlin
where the first Slavs
settled & lived

& how we had
back then a family card
to give us free coffee


before it all fell apart

-for my mother-

Some days I catch you sleeping
my legs are as long as yours now
Somewhere in the past, slipping
about, I'm still learning how
to speak. Even all these years on
I'm still searching for my voice
which you've always silenced
the May rain pours down outside
the days are long & ragged
some nights we see the Moon
& it sings it's serenade to us
In our old place we used to play
the piano in our living room
Moon River, Edvard Grieg
& buy fresh brötchen from the bakery
or walk beneath the ginko & linden trees
or talk for hours on the phone
The phone never rings any more
You buy yourself Comte cheese
a memory of bygone luxury
& we leave our garden door
open sometimes when we're in
& watch the slugs come in
& think of how things change.

.*brötchen - bread buns ( german)

The smell of cigarettes you smoked
Our little conversations
Your sweet smile
Me falling in love with you
In Berlin

I built a wall
between me and you
I built it high enough
to separate us forever
Because you never loved me
And i still do
And it hurts
*It ******* hurts

Esa pared que tú ves a mis espaldas
es una pared como cualquier otra.

Lejanas: las ventanas de los terceros pisos
las charlas de los adultos.

¿Por qué debería intimidarme?
Aquí hay muchas otras paredes que tampoco podemos atravesar

muchas otras paredes que nada dicen
salvo cuando tienen dibujos o groserías.

En esa pared podemos jugar a gusto
no estorbamos ya que nadie entra ni sale.

Dicen que ahí acaba Berlín
y también que al otro lado

hay otra ciudad del mismo nombre
aunque de un país diferente.

Sé que aprenderé a estar triste por esa pared
y que mi felicidad será mayúscula

cuando escuche el habla confuso
de un tal Günter Schabowski.

Pero mientras es sólo una pared
una pared cualquiera que a veces

               *parece--ser--un--largo--tren--que--decidió--detenerse--

I want to live in Europe.

I want to run in the Bavarian Forest.
I want to be left in the English rain.
I want to feel the Russian Frost.
I want to skate in the Alps.

I want to feel the French Luxury.
I want to taste the Belgian Chocolates.
I want to sleep in the European Palaces.
I want to feel the Papacy Monastic.
I want to feel the taste of French Cheese and Scottish Whiskey.
I want to hear the Italian Piano.

I want to read English Poetry.
I want to hear the Spanish legends and don't forget the olive there !
I want to feel the magnificence of the Parisian Events.
I want to swim in the Danube River.
I want to be inspired by the fascinating paintings.
I want to be amazed by the beauty of the churches there.
I want to read about the greatness of the European History from there.
I want to search in The Vatican Stores and Warehouses for answers I was looking for.

I want to dream about reading the books that have been hidden in the Invisible Palace of Books in Berlin.
I want to walk among the shelves of The National Library in London.
I want to go shopping in the streets of Paris and Milan.

I just want to be European,
I want to live in Europe.

                                                                             - *Shilo

It is how I am
When I am here
It is what I hum
When I grab the music
It is who I struggle to be
Someone completely free
The one I always imagined
I could be
In a dream
And in reality

The city reads
My thoughts
What I desire
And what I fought

Here is Berlin
The one and unique
Where I can write
My uncut story.