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August, 2003

whoolen bed of warmth
nested into sparkling bog
watched by iron freeze
lost poem in waiting queue on pen

a poet without a pen
what a fool
like a painter without colors
what madman
sharing my warmth
sharing my pen
that's love

red burning inside
war for choclate fought back. brought to peace
neverending troubles

now he found his pen
writing on
and i'm left alone
with my poem lost
on the waiting queue for my pen

what a shame
oh damn

why do german always ask
i'm not german
all the same
oh brithish diplomacy
save me from frankness

breaking dead branches
like bones
wihtout soul
just matter, hollow, dry

good to know where u're goin
where u are is obvious
and where u came from too late to change

lost my respect to art
why should it deserve that
i don't take serious what takes itself serious
i laught
in a shriecking mad laughter
and fall silent
cause all's cryed out of me
i'm left alone
with a poem lost
that didn't want to be born

death on the way to the birth place




© 2003 by the respective poets