How embarrassing you have become,

your scent too near the madhouse
sings its sorrows without any good motives

What wisdom has cannot be used

 when what wisdom lacks is asked for

From the remains think yourself clean
and take the heart freed from words,

for the thoughts upon your path

where no one wish for to wander

crawl down in the ground

where nothing can grow

and carve ruins of the years

to a paltry salary

in shadowlike kneeling,

in self-effacing moaning


Clean tears fall only in words,
consolidated under vanity´s shelter
where they have loved with barbed wire and mockery

to a great thrill for all our words´ tragic handouts…


Words to the sting, given joy filled lust,
to wishing wells´ finalized completions,
made to participating, present answers
Near the Altar of Fate nailed to remain.

Most alike the believed picture of you is hailed,
or creeps down to another backlash reaction
and becomes its own conclusions´ executioner;
slanderer, and eventually the own wills whore
therein depredated flesh from the thoughts sit
as harrowed, in ridiculous unpalatable qualms,
hailing spilling, tearing down inherited rights,
while monarchy and democracy lie stupidity

upon a conspiring and deranged slaughter table

under imitation, unwanted shiny residues,

showing the highest heights´ devised murder


Spring water in swamps will swamp water be.




Being cut new scars

Being made new deathwords

All new wither anew
Overripe means rotten

Sculpted stone is stone!
Teach the autumn leaves survival!

Cleanse me from your surfaces.

Cobweb shudder
Captured hung in pieces

Coldembraced, misharvested and patinated

At home in permafrost

Sole host and sole guest
Left burned out

Send my well documented threatening letters to Suffering
No answer

Send a complaint to the Castalian spring










Our Sun rites belong to all districts
inside of Sunsigned and Treesigned

Remaining here until the Olympian

Give life, loved!
Give life in this chilled air
Give life in this sight over the district

The Observer
cared for autographs of symbolism
and honëstly missed glad memories
all while the creeks so deeply dug
had not yet reached to the oceans

The Collector
wished for words of diamonds,
an utility game against vermin´s dancing
That the pen, the weak´s defense,
once again would usurp the feel of living

Numbing unwillingness is starved

Nightly cleansing baths

Drinking healing spring water as an obsessed

The Sun glitters over the valley