the drunken cousin

these voices in my head
none of them speak my language
all of the voices in my head
from my childhood
growing up
from my adult life
we don´t connect
and i sit stubborn
shivering cold
the drunken cousin
in the corner

MORAL PHILOSOPHY

and what is this screaming inside my head ?
what does it mean ?
pain ?
learnt behaviour ?
and, if learnt behaviour, then why ?
because of pain ?
because of this mix
of pain, depression
with a dull contentedness
self-satisfaction
happiness

moral philosophy is beyond me !

WILLOW

back then
my Latin teacher
told me to buck up --
else your accomodations, your willow nature
will be the death of you !

one night

she screaming
sudden a fright in the night

i screaming
vine clinging to the trellis
i screaming
pen in my fist

i fool look in my wallet
for certainties

i empty
and overflowing
with tears, tears
my hatred and despair
exaggerated and stylized
I CANNOT FIND SELF
not here i am not there

FLYING

flying
transferring to another continent
to another time, place
culture, identity

and who i am remains constant
through all my changes
of costume, behaviour , custom

the coldness

there is a small chapel in the city
its walls and roof are made of human skulls and bones
today all i want is
to sit there
and feel the coldness of life

One lonesome day

here there are scattered stones

in memory of the king

i remember

the corpse of a turtle

2 meters in diameter

discovered in the dunes

heating up to explode

i remember

picasso´s women running on the sand

i remember

the happy-go-lucky old timer

who pointedly didn´t buy me a beer

sitting on a stack of railway sleepers

pencil in my hand

staring at an empty wall

thinking of the incommunicable details of my life

a dark female form passing by

whispers

and who is your signmaster ?