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New Poem: “modern life floundering”

motivation flounders gone
with brain that pounds
the hours down –
a blood that boils
in veins of ash
beneath a face –
silence lurks without a trace
in crevices that time create,
existence foiled –
no trace of happiness be found
with careless people all around,
all in the mess embroiled –

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How I Long To Believe –

How I long to believe in something –
how the world lets me down each time I try –
everything I believe in
seems destined to wither and die –

My heart remains full of visions
as my mind stays full of songs –
but the words die on my lips
when I ponder the past gone wrong.

I admire the certainty heard
in the voices of other people –
so sure of themselves they drown out
my voice; so frail and feeble –

How I long to believe in something –
but life has taught me – and harshly:
no truth stays truthful for long;
there is no such thing as certainty

So I maintain my silent vigil
over dreams buried and gone
and scoff at the people around me
who thinks they are right and I’m wrong

How I wish that I never believed –
that I never allowed hope to stain
my mind with its reveries…
How I wish it hadn’t all been in vain.

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I Have Not the Arrogance of Humans

I have not the arrogance
of humans –
mine is not the voice
of presumption –
I walk among them
in silence
and they do not sense
my presence –

I have not the bearing
of them –
not their arrogance,
pretense –
not their wild-eyed fury
at ideas
that scatter in the wind
around the bend –

I have not their beliefs
and dreams –
their hopes and fears
and follies –
I won’t purport to understand
their ways.
I understand enough
not to try –

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Dystopia anno 20**

I.

It was a cold autumn day in-between late summer and the rainy season. The smell of rain was in the air, and the overcast sky already threatened with it, but it hadn’t started yet and could easily drag out for days. The buildings looked sharp in the grey light. A 3D animation printed onto the fabric of reality. Only the wind disturbed the image somewhat by ruffling the trees and sighing repeatedly. A few trees were yellow and red but most were still green and the orchard still showed the surreally red spots of forgotten, ripe apples there was nobody to pick.
And so the scene is set for the story.

Continue reading Dystopia anno 20**

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Who I Am

The cold light of dawn that highlights all flaws –
I stand firm in the face of danger,
humiliation,
misunderstanding –
for lack of alternative.
What does the world have to offer me
but a prison made of human hearts –
cells made of words
with bars made of meaning.
If I could solve the riddle
I could break free.
The cold light I shed on the world
makes it easier yet more difficult to see.
All details sharpened,
all meaning blurred.
All questions blatantly showing,
no answers acceptable.
I long for shade,
peace,
night.
But the light is everywhere.
I stand in the middle of it,
illuminated by it
yet unseen by others.
I stand unwillingly
processing
everything.
No rest is offered me
ever.
I am the cold light of dawn
which nobody likes
since it shows them
all that is wrong with the world –
and with themselves.

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Childhood Dreams

I used to dream of wisdom,
I used to dream of strength.
I used to dream of good things –
those dreams were all to end.

I used to dream up people,
I used to dream up jobs.
I dreamt of past and future –
the future that was lost.

I used to dream of travels,
they came and off they went.
I used to dream of happiness
but what I had is spent.

I used to dream of getting,
achieving… all in vain.
And now I dream of dreaming
for dreams alone remain.

But now I cannot dream
without that bitter sting;
that bitter voice that whispers:
“You’ve lost it, everything!”

What’s lost is mainly this,
the most important part;
that crucial belief in dreams
that warmed my childhood heart.

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The Dried-Up Ocean

Childhood vs. Adult Imagination

I remember, once upon a time,
an ocean stretching far and wide –
an open, endless, wide expanse
whose boundaries were out of sight

Yet now, when in that kind of mood
I take the path towards its strands
I find a muddied, little brook
that hardly stirs among the sands

And all the worse; where it before
was cool and quite refreshing, so
today it’s warm and drowsying –
no, nothing’s like it was before

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Love, What Are You?

Achievements – what are they?
They’ll vanish when I’m gone,
and though my heart is young
my soul is ancient-old.

I’ve known sorrow, known pleasure,
and love is all I have to show,
a love impeding every chance to grow
and yet I seem to wish it so.

Love, what are you?
The dying breath of longing and desire
when you cause all that I admire
to fade into reality.

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The Wait

I waited for the snowfall
but finally when it came
the snowflakes melted in the air
before they reached the ground
and all remained the same.

I waited for the sunshine
but when I finally caught a beam
it had no strength against the chill
so seeing how it came and went
might just as well have been a dream.

I look ahead, now void of hope
and wonder: What might stay
if anything at all.
Why bother grasping anything:
It comes and goes away.

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Birdsong

Warble birds your sweet, sweet song.
Never stop. Go on. Go on.
My heart’s heavy, my song’s spent.
My head’s heavy, earthward bent.

Sing a song of sweet delight,
send it upwards to the light
while I wander in the shade
waiting for my song to fade.

Warble birds – it’s soothing balm,
warble and instill some calm
to the evening I pass by
from your hiding in the sky.

But don’t ask for sing-along,
I have lost all joy in song;
My song’s spent, my head hangs low –
My love went; where did she go?

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So Tired

I am tired of searching
for something I’m not sure to find.
I am tired of writing
words I am not sure I even understand.
I am tired of editing
poems written years ago and try to make amends
for visions I once had
that I barely remember, and much less comprehend.

I am tired of attempting
to believe that my writings have meaning –
but what else is worth believing in?
I’d drop the pen and do something better,
more meaningful and worthwhile
if I thought that it existed – I am dreaming
of a contrubution of some sorts
beyond writing.
But I fail at visualizing
what they might entail
when everything besides my words
seem out of sorts.

I am tired of searching
for meaning that I’m certain I will never find,
I am tired of dreaming

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Disenchant Yourself

Disenchant what I have treasured,
treasured in my heart for years –
disenchant yourself and free me
from my own continuous tears

What’s the use of crying – tell me –
when you’re crying for a dream?
What’s the use – it equals lying,
loving what has never been

Disenchant this worthless idol
which I’ve kept for lack of more –
kept and locked up in my soul
rather than bar it at the door

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Reunion

shock to feel – after all these years
those arms around me;
that dream, that phantom, that despair –
I had no words and couldn’t shed a tear,
I saw you and I saw you not;
I wanted to say, but could not –
I guess you think I hate you now,
and that is probably for the best;
better than having gone with the flow
and uttered that impossible vow
destroying what peace of mind I’ve left

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My Lady of Sorrows

So you are gone again – and merely for a second
brought back to me the time that’s left behind.
Why did you come to haunt me yet again;
why not elsewhere your footsteps wind?
I wish not to relive my past of pain,
but here you bring it back to me – you always do.
The saddest thing being your ignorance
of what you have for decades put me through.

And out of nowhere; there you are again!
You think yourself my friend and you embrace
this fragile piece of earthenware I am
with lightning-arms – now further scars I trace
when every place you’ve touched burst out in flames.
And yet I must keep up this worn-out sham;
this image of indifference to you –
this fake rendition that I am to you.

I want to tell you to stay off – but how?
I can’t without exposing everything.
Your touch is burned into my skin,
my blood is boiling, and I fear that now
at last my time has come – I cannot breathe.
And yet I must maintain my lie; still now!
I still show you nothing, tell you nothing.
But deep inside my heart is torn and seethe.

Keep off me – you are no longer my friend.
One can’t be friends with someone that you lie to.
Lady of Sorrows numberless through years;
that is the only title I award you.
Lady of Sorrows – go to where you came from,
that place beyond my reach where normally you hide –
you take your path and I’ll take mine, bearing inside
the secret of the pain you’ve made my home.

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New Poem: “Her”

I saw her in a vision –
an image of perfection –
I know her to be real
yet unreal there.
She didn’t deign to look
and I am not surprised –
as always she despairs
in her own sphere.

She could have gone with me –
I could have let her be –
anything could happen
in the night that can’t distinguish –

but I am left here now –
love has burst out from me –
it ran out like a river –
it flushed all goodness out
in all its passion.
All it left was dregs;
the heavy, dark remains
that I am left to tend
here all alone.

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New Poem: “The Wait”

I waited for the snowfall
but finally when it came
the snowflakes melted in the air
before they reached the ground
and all remained the same.

I waited for the sunshine
but when I finally caught a beam
it had no strength against the chill
so seeing how it came and went
might just as well have been a dream.

I look ahead, now void of hope
and wonder: What might stay
if anything at all.
Why bother grasping anything:
It comes and goes away.