Dienstag, 1. März 2016

Dienstag, 18. August 2015

Samstag, 20. Juni 2015

Poetry for you and me....








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)






Sonntag, 22. März 2015







“Things usually work out in the end.” 

“What if they don’t?” 

“That just means you haven’t come to the end yet.” 

‘(the glass castle’, jeanette walls)

Freitag, 19. Dezember 2014

" No other connection healed the hurt of that first abandonment, that first banishment from love`s paradise. For years I lived my life suspended, trapped by the past, unable to move onto the future. Like every wounded child I just wanted to turn back time and be in the paradise again, in that moment of remembered rapture where I felt loved, where I felt a sense of belonging.
We can never go back. I know that now. We can go forward. We can fid the love our hearts long for, but not until we let go grief about the love we lost long ago, when we were little and had no voice to speak the heart´s longing. All the years of my life I thought I was searching for love I found, retrospectively, to be years where I was simply trying to recover what had been lost, to return to the first home, to get back the rapture of first love. I was not really ready to love or be loved in the present. I was still mourning- clinging to the broken heart of girlhood, to broken connections. When that mourning ceased I was able to love again."

Bell Hooks- all about love, new visions

Donnerstag, 4. Dezember 2014

summer drawings...

changes

                                                         



the lord is back his mood is in the rain







comin down to earth







the fallen balletdancer






  magical days and nights





     Is it a Crime that i still want you ?
                                                           



 Peace of art for cuntlovers

                                             




I´m in love with you, lovin you....
               



  the butterfly




       i could just if....   so what?
                                                             



  It´s a poem
                                                           



  cherry chair sketch
                                                                     




 bein home in bein weird





skaterdreams
                                                               


   the lady of fire
                                                                 




 Bärbel who waits for the sun
                                                     



not always knowin´who i am, but for shure i´m an artist...."





pawel and sofia, Lubichowo






the catlovers









löwenherz







restless pigsyndrom






breakup times




the  underwater dreamer





leif




leif inside out





golden times sometimes....





the iron lady and the young poet








sadness





cartoonish pharmacy

Donnerstag, 15. Mai 2014

memories
















new stuff


                                                               freedom






                                                              holy child







                                          wie(ei)rdness of worlds




                                            wie schwarze krähen überm herz






                                                           on thinking for oneself













                                                            the universe












                                              the man of wind and water...






                                   ... and his son





                                                           in a daydream a samurai












                                                                cancer





 maybe you´ll become an angel.... one day

stranger in the dark



time to say goodbye to say welcome again...

still work in progress....