Just five inches of

barbed wire from the war, that small -- 


can remembrance be.

It's better to be


dead serious than to be --



seriously dead.

To be happy is


to dare to dance with one leg --



above the abyss.

The river is full, it is not dry
although it does not flow, it just boils
bubbling of all conceivable poisons

It can be seen day and night
yet the light of joy is extinguished
in darkness

People are more afraid than they want
to admit and the threat of violence
has broken them of laughing

Common sense rings the alarm bell:
this is not a technological error
no, this is the gateway to hell

The believe in a happy ending jams
the roads, you can't do anything
about the piles of paper plans

Look out what happens to the world
please pay attention to where this goes
before it's too late

This is not a way forward, no no
this is a road, really a road
a road to hell

There's a woman in the verge
of the highway, I know her
She looks like me, like the face
next to me in the side window

She comes closer and bends
forward to my indicator
I break a sweat in the dark
behind my steering wheel

'My boy, what are you doing here?
I turn over in my grave
of all my worries
about you'

Mama, I'm going to work hard
and then I'll get rich
'Oh boy, don't you know?
This is the road to hell

On your journey through barren poverty
from the desert to the source
you got lost, you turned off
to hell'

Shreds of promises,

once for sale: advertising


canvas in the weeds.

Alone. Between lonely hearts
understanding misunderstood others
with attention, my password
the master key in my genes

Kicking I already did it
not yet capable of anything else
as a baby, as a grownup
no one should unlearn it

no one should claim it
when he feels hurt
by hurt people, wronged
by the world

of sham adults
Come, I'm coming, just swallow
your reproaches
for a kiss

Without any tears,

her eyes are crying sorrow --


and love into me.

I live my portion

of eternity, a cry --


gives me the shivers.

I saw 'Les amants'

and then I walked home, longing --


to love as they did.

Writing from the heart

is tricky, spontaneous --


words can be faulty.

It is printed now,

as pure art: the sorrow, mine --


everyone's, isn't it?

In cities, country-

men speak softly, everywhere --


someone will listen.

I sweep up the shards

of my feelings, it's more soul --


than I expected.

You have two arms, so

bow them nicely around me --


then it is for you.

Travelling isn't fun,

I struggle to go, hoping --


to arrive quickly.

Way too much sadness,

nonetheless, we get hungry --


and there is a cake.

The pain, the pleasure,

the ****** of giving birth:


fertility queen.

Sun on the roof edge,

underneath we sufferlead --


our cold shadow lives.

Hygiene costs smooth rooms,

electricity and a --


lot of loneliness.

Yes, mwaw hwale re hwoot,

so nice, oh ** mwurt, careful --


ow, you're hurting me!

Life is far too short,

darling, you make me grateful --


and sadly happy.

Be cross, be angry,

but please, don't do anything --


for once and for all.

I go, you remain

silent before you ask me:


May I come with you?

Never dare to do

anything you failed to do --


when you were with me!

Something isn't right, if

you live more than usual --


during holidays.

I don't ask Do you

love me? as long as I learn --


to understand you.

The fulfillment of a wish
is a brief happiness, a happy
ending, when you die after it
or get started, with something new
a next phase or a next step

For a lasting Happy End, the hereafter
has been invented, and the consolation
one derives from descendants
with the thought that later, some day
everything will be fine

Till you're going to understand
that life seems pointless
because everything goes on
without general happiness ahead

but that we can also do without
the high of an illusion and go along
with the stream and its dynamics
that never close anything

I'm melancholy,

though not for what has been, but --


for what should have been.

I met someone and asked
'Where are you going? Something special?'
There's a large field over there
where I will sing
to free my soul

People are golden, star
dust in the large, large field
- finally back in the garden
'Oh, can I come with you?
Out of the smog!'

We just spin around
in mists without a view
but very perhaps
something changes
in time, or in me

The army no longer throws bombs
but food and drinks
on all the hungry people
without money, devilish money
- finally back in the garden

You keep coming back,

till I no longer dream and --


you no longer go.

I have a store full
of old things, it is difficult
to ensure

that they are not sold
to snobs with no idea
of their real value

without the slightest idea
that it cannot be expressed
in their money

only in tax money, annually
to be collected for maintenance
and everything that comes with it

to have the works viewed
by those who are interested
and that can be anyone

which is hard to accept
for barbarians who get rich
from constant replacement

Like sweet words want to

comfort, and do not help, that's --


how poetry helps.

Maybe we were once stranded here
on the slopes of these mountains
between the white peaks and the low land

We certainly came up with words
to tell that story
and we went into the world

with that answer to the question
Where do we come from?
From the belly of the boat

as the image of our Mother
Earth, who is born where she is
in the lap of heaven

above the Holy Mountains
which kiss eternity
on the border of our existence

We move on and give names
to the world we discover
Time and space embrace us

A poet fiercely

yearns for a louder silence --


than the other speaks.

Paradise is paved, everywhere
you can park in front of the door now
Pink walls and plastic flowers:
places where people like to be

Isn't it a shame that only afterwards
you open your eyes for what you had?
Paradise is paved, everywhere
you can park in front of the door now

All trees are saved, come, have a look
in the greenhouses of the museum!
It is not expensive to see them all
and you get bees and butterflies too!

There are greenhouses everywhere, no spots
on the apples, they won't even get brown
But last night the door slammed shut
and my beloved left in a big taxi

With their girl, tough men

melt, she is already soft --


she gets tough later.

I passed my parents
from much younger to one and a half
times older than they, more serious
I became, a grandmother I became

Experience, recognizing
my life in friends
seeing it again
in the children and grandchildren

Sticking together
our bodies familiar
with defects, pain
and messy memories

And now I want to leave
away from the timeless artificial light
of the hospital, slip away
dreamily in your memories

My father is dead,

he says nothing, but I know --


what he would say now.

I allure you, dancing
slowly around you right
through the laser rays
my eyes don't let you go

I get far enough into you
not to go with you right away
We'll meet tomorrow
and then in a week

At home, my parents are waiting
with their dreams about me
In the city, a career awaits
and in my body everything awaits

the next step
It is the art of balancing
to be myself
and to know what I want

Let us discuss it,

I can think very supply --


about the money.

On vacation it is different
Then you are the man
I saw in you

then we do everything together
then we look together
viewed as together -

the outside of it
our two bodies
which are curiously scanned

through our clothes
We see it happen
and we see ourselves

as desirable persons
with ****** skin and lips
that laugh and whisper sweetly

I imagine it while
I wait for the kettle
Let's go on vacation

Women ****** men,

that's a fact, it is the way –


they are, made of girls.

My most important deeds
were to stop the work
to talk with you

about the rules and your ideas
to ask time after time
What is it all about?

What are we doing?
To practice the skill
to be critical

to figure out the beaten tracks
to dare to check them and
to choose the best approach

I remember your names
How did you go?
Have you become giants?

Giantesses without the vanity
of the people, who do not dare
to abide when it comes to it?

Not using the bike

is Zen: wishing to arrive --


where you always are.

After my education is the party
Everyone at table, now
we are going into the world
solve the problems
There's nothing better

We can do it
We are entitled to it
Everything is possible
Who does what?
Who has a plan?

.....We didn't agree
.....and that was against us
.....The deal is off
.....No happiness for all people
.....Mission Failed

.....A hard lesson
.....to be more or all the less
.....realistic
.....or both, if you can be young
.....and old at the same time

Today I shall do

nothing, not like yesterday --


no, differently.

I took pictures of happiness:
dead sharp intimate couples
And I felt like a peeping tom

This is how it went everyone
who viewed the series
No one's heart was opened

Not even from the cheerfulness
or the suppressed sorrow
of laughing people

nor from children, their play
their earnestness and their sweet looks
It was a lot, but no happiness

Then the winners, the jubilant
pleasure that spouts into the sky
with thousands of hands

and the ****** peace of sleep
the open mouths, saggy faces
and scary dreams, again

the absence of happiness
which only comes down
at the very last, in the morgue

I remember both,

1: my memory device --


2: it doesn't apply.

The car is broken:

garage sentence. After that --


it is free to ride.