DOCUMENT: WE
WE SPIT ACID ON WALLS
WHILE SPEAKING YOUR
LANGUAGE.
MY WORDS
NOT NEAT ANYMORE...
NO SORRY!
MY DEAR DEVIL IN
HEAVENLY WHITE SHEEDS.
I REFUSE TO KEEP ON
LISTENIN´ TO THAT NUMBING VOICES OF YOURS
NOMORE INJECTIONS AGAINST
YOUR
ALL OVER SPREADING DISEAS.
INSTEAD...
COVERIN´ YOUR FACE IN
LIONESS SHIT
FOR EVERYONE TO SEE
YOUR WEAKNESS
AND OUR
STRENGTH.
STILL FEELIN´ LOVE FOR
YOU...
NO OTHER SOLUTION.
ONLY FORGIVENESS WILL
SOOTH OUR PAIN,
STITCH OUR WOUNDS,
STOP THE
MISINTERPRETATIONS,
THE SEGREGATION ON
ALL LEVELS.
SAME TIME
PATIENT AND HEALER.
AND WHILE MY PUSSY SCREAMS...
I FEEL FOR THE FIRST TIME
SOME KIND OF FREEDOM.
SOME KIND .... FOR
SHURE,
BECAUSE IN THESE
WOR(L)DS
IT´S A CRIME
TO FULLY BELIEVE IN
FREEDOM.
BUT WE DO...
IN A STILL TOO
FRAGILE MANNER.
KNOWING...
FORGETTING...
VICIOUS CIRCLES I
SPIN ON MY DECKS.
THE BODY TOO OFTEN AN AMNESTIC ZONE,
TO HEAVY ON OUR SPIRITS.
NOMANS LAND .........................................YOU
SAY
CAPTRURED LAND..................................
WE SAY.
DIGGIN´ DEEP INTO THAT SOIL
INTO THAT SOUL...
WISHIN MY BLOOD WOULD
BE
LIKE THE MARVELOUS
BLUE DIESEL SEA,
DEEP DOWN IN THE RAINY
FOREST.
TAKIN` COVER IN THE
WIND
THAT KEEPS ON CARRING
US FROM PLACE TO PLACE.
RECITING OUR NAMES:
ROSE OF JERICHO
DESSERT FLOWER
CREEKS ARE SWELLING,
EARTH GIVES
MOIST FOR TOO LONG DRIED OUT
VISIONS
AND THE GREEN IS
FOSTERING EYES AND HEARTS.
WHILE PURPLE TOUCHES
MY LIPS,
OUR HIPS ...
THEY KNOW THE
DIRECTION,
THE SWING
BUT A RULING MIND
STILL PROCLAIMING
THIS TO BE A SIN.
I AM WE
AND WE ARE YOU.
AUTHENTIC....TRUE
MAKIN HOME IN THE
SPACE IN BETWEEN
BETWEEN ILLUSIONS
TO FIND REALITY...
THAT YOU STILL CALL FANTASIE.
YOUR TWISTED
EXISTENCE,
GOT IT ALL MIXED
UP...
CALLING RAPE LOVE
AND FREEDOM UTOPIA.
TIME TO SIT WITH THE
UNIVERSE
TIME TO BURN THE OLD
AND FOSTER THE NEW WITH IT´S ASHES.
TIME TO SEE THAT
THERE IS NO OTHER SOLUTION
THAN BECOMING
WE
(WE)
Past Fullmoon
Holdin you beneath my
wandering breasts.
Yes i know,
some things in this
valley seem quiet hard to diguest.
closed up, this open
book, under surfaces.
cut into bits,
like a cake with
missing pieces.
Puzzled...
havn´t yet
tasted on my tongue
the real me.
Still gettin lost on
the way,
in the how I should
be,
how I should say.
Who´s speakin´?
Who´s askin?
Still figurin´ out the
Tetris mess you left,
Still cutting bricks
with plastic knifes,
Still playin´ chess
without knowing the game.
Indeed,
more gentle from time
to time,
I jump,
I fall...
What else to do?
Bittersweet each step
on love street
when cooked with the
wrong recipe.
I´m not a cook!
I´m only up service.
I ask you: Which dish
is not poiseness at the end?
Where to put the hands
when the fingers are missing?
shatterin´ into
crumbs
inside the old
ladies bag.
no doubt,
just confessin´
a dreamer
that fights with the sleep.
Stumblin on airy feet
sliding on
mother earths arched
back.
You screwed me up,
i screw myself together.
To do
and not make undone
I´m the cloudy
weather in your sunday shorts
while in the depth
the universe hides.
Blessed with curse.
Please,
Poke me where it
hurts.
Slizzering toung
plays the waterfall
between my thighs.
Dipping white into
red.
Time to go to bed,
my dearest of all
unloved,
Time to sleep on
roses.
Thorns turn into
flesh
and scars into bonds.
I scoop lost memories
and
breath into the
unknown.
It´s said that
lonely wolfs need
packs to travel long distances.
I´m learning to sing past
fullmoon.
(WE)
