Makaber

Mar 13, 2024

Kein Laber, ohne Aber

Meine Hautfarbe ist nicht makaber

Der Lust zum Frust, nur Sonnenschutz, selektive Verfassungsnutz
 Brauche Wasser, damit ich richtig putz'

Kein Bieten, nur Verbieten

Wie sollen wir eine Wohnung mieten?

Kein Ende, die Illusion einer Zeitwende.


Antisemitismus, zirkulärer Rhythmus
Diese Kollektivschuld, ein Schild ohne Huld

Alles muss, nicht kann,  klassischer Rassismus

Du sagst ohne Klarheit: wir nehmen Deine Arbeit

Wer bietet sie an?
(Ich habe gehört: Es macht frei)


Weniger Kohle, noch weniger Rolle

Bürokratie plus Tyrannei minus Anarchie, nur Ironie

Alles für ein Aufenthaltklopapier
Entschuldigung Sie bitte,

Sind wir nicht menschlich genug für die Rechte hier?

Im Süden geboren, aufgewachsen in jahrhundertelang Nördlichen

Erschreckung, Einschüchterung, Erpressung

Kein Laber, ohne Aber

Meine Hautfarbe ist nicht makaber.




eng:


No reservation, without reservation

My skin colour isn't macabre

Just solar protection, selective Constitutional provisions

Lust for Frustration - I need some water to that I can  



wisps of ethereal whispers

Feb 25, 2023


panging plentiful purity, purging putrid polypropylene

embracing embers emanate, enunciate, engulf, emancipate

preaching penance, primordial prehistoric premonitions

“do phoenixes arise from dinosaurian ashes?”

ritual retributions journal jurassic jurisdictions

forlorn forgotten forsaken fair folk Fae

rights undressed and bathed

boldly bravely becoming unwrong

lords and lordesses gather to throng

unwinding unceremoniously attempting to unbelong

along comes a khaki lathi asking you to move along

bend down a knee and pray they say
why not conform?

it’s just around the corner, barely a furlong

remember all that you once used to praise and worship
renovated a momentary lapse ago through the papal warship


Priorities

Jan 23, 2023

You stare at your thousand dollar screen

I gaze into abysses of oceans azure and forests untamed

The sea spray and mountain mist engulfing my beard and body

The blazing sun caressing my face and forehead

You hop between glass and concrete temples radiating air conditioning

I hop from muddy banks to raggedy rocks

Bathed in frost, grime and sweat eclipsed by the mighty mountains

You dream of riding around town in a convertible with your booming bass blasting

I long for riding in the back of a lorry lined with sacks and hay

Sun tanned, throat parched, thirst for the rustic countryside partly quenched

You sip your pumpkin spiced latte, worried about your Gap shirt getting crumpled

I sip my roadside chai, beaming as its warmth envelops my toes in tattered shoes

Embracing me from within, holding me close in cahoots with the pouring rain

The earthen scent rising up and taking over my senses

The amber liquid caresses and cleanses

But we are not so different, you and I 

Just wayfaring strangers trying to make the most of our existences

Escaping within otherworldly distractions and diligences

Consummation

Jan 16, 2019

As I fade into nothingness
I await to be enveloped
Succumbing to the calling
To become the void that I once was

As all things must fade away, be forgotten
The embodiment of a warm caress
No matter how comforting as it once was
Arms outstretched no longer

I search for a glimmer, a hint of burning embers
Looking far across the horizons
Even though I know
The flames have sputtered into ashes

Reawaken and fulfill
Resurrect an empty husk
Wash away the rotting insides
And come back to the land of the living 


The Foreboding

Jan 14, 2019
Art by Nick Flook


Bathed in the lull of starglow
The final curtain between strangers in the night
As we lay atop sweat, blood and entrails
Atop the corpses of the fallen undead
Pangs of longing and wistful aromas engulf us
Holds us tight
As if we tumble down a rabbit hole
Only to re-emerge as the dying embers of ethereal moonlight caress
Luring us back into eternal slumber

Emily

May 8, 2015

She tried to look away from her
stains
Of sorrows, sadness and despair
Overcome by the Dreary, the Encumbered
Little did she know
Her soul, rubbed raw, now laid
bare
And as her being seeped open
Hallowed demons awakened
Craving for sombre lifeless
emotion
An incessant pang arose unquenched
Awaiting to succumb to the appealing
wrath of retribution.

Untitled

Dec 9, 2014

A passing breeze, a haunting memory
Sand slipping away past your outstretched fingertips
A lucid dream, a forgotten face
Ebbing away like a trickling stream
The last dying embers of a waning fire
A raggedy plaything tossed aside, strewn and unkempt
Drifting thoughts, vague memories, out of focus
A fallen soldier, descending down into the gaping trenches
Leaves floating down to the beckon of Mother Earth the Temptress

Never to rise again from the sanguine graves they lay buried in
  Nothing but a blurred haze remains of what once was
Stepped upon and trampled down into the ground
Lost forevermore, deserted, forgotten and abandoned.

The Phoenix Post

Oct 23, 2014
    The author, bows his head in shame, sad that the blog been dead for many a year (nearly three to be precise). The author tries to jab a stick into whatsoever remains, hoping that a proverbial Phoenix may arise from the ashes, in all it's pristine fiery glory. But alas, procrastination, laziness and general dreariness are not merely to blame, albeit those might be deciding factors in this death. We can go on and on, cross-examining what went wrong, but the one concrete fact remains the same: a death happened, and it doesn't matter why. Hopefully, this post title will invoke the Phoenix's spirit to lift itself out the ashes.

    So much has happened in these last few years, so many moments that needed to be cherished, penned, transformed into letters, words and sentences, all of them remain lost, a foggy distant memories that pique up sub-consciously.

    Time is a unmerciful bitch, her reach leaving all powerless, clawing away at everything and anything that happens to chance upon its deathly grasp. Years fly by without notice, everything seems a blur, perchance a dream that one hasn't quite completely forgotten. A lurching fear persists, this unguided bogey meandering about, being tossed about hither and thither, never knowing when the tracks give way to a steep cliff leading to a never-ending abyss. Or rather, so many jerks have happened, never realizing that this fall into the abyss has already happened, and has been going on forever, the bumps on the tracks but a dream of the distant past, as you sleep, conserving energy, hoping to one day awaken when the ride has stopped. But, sadly, it never will.

    Things that have always seemed absolute and certain wear away, and it is not until whatsoever little that remains crumbles in your fingertips, lost forever to the heartless bitch , Time, that one realizes that certainty is merely a notion, a hope. Dilapidation has been happening before your very eyes without you ever realizing it, the shift so gradual and concealed, that change is but a little obnoxious fly buzzing in your ear, merely an annoyance as you wave your hand trying to drive it away to a territory not within your own domain.

    A hollowed, empty void remains in us all. We're not quite sure how to fill it, or rather, where it even is, or what it may be, but it is tuned within us, a knowing, a certainty, that it us our quest to find the piece of that puzzle and put it in its place, only then shall one find true peace. And this journey is but a race against Time to make sure that as you pass by your piece, you find it, pick it up, and put it in its place. But, sadly, stops along the way distract us, tacky shiny toys attract our attention, begging to be played with, a temptation to quit altogether and remain in a boundless limbo, surrounded by emptiness.

Why Nothing's Shown Up For A While

Jul 3, 2012

Busy? Probably.
Lack of motivation? Likely.
Lazy? Nailed it.

Like Sheep

Mar 29, 2012

Ever since the author was a wee little Ay Jay, he loathed following the crowd, in other words, fads. Anything vaguely interesting to him instantly looses its sheen as soon as everyone's talking about it and doing it. He likes being exclusive. He likes being the sore rash that sticks out. That weirdo next door. No, he doesn't mind not looking like a bunch of sardines in a can, albeit with Mohawks and Porcupines and other animals and birds for hair. This partly explains his obsession with Old School Rock, clunky retro glasses, movies from the nineties and the preceding years. Make no mistake, it's not that he exclusively likes 'em because they aren't popular, it's merely a contributing factor. And it's not that he hates everything modern - another one of his obsessions is technology. Mere words fail to explain a geekgasm. But, alas, as always, I digress. I could dedicate an entire article apiece to his obsession with Tech and Rock. Maybe I should.