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There’s a Nightmare Afoot

There’s a nightmare afoot
and I cannot tell if it is a dream
or reality rearing its ugly head
intent on breaking the spell –

Something dropped and then picked up
only to be dropped again –
play that on repeat for eight hours of sleep
and you’ll be wishing for the end –

Only to wake up for work – REPEAT –
like yesterday and the day before;
nothing new to do, nothing new to see
and no chance to really plan for more –

Only sleep to remind you,
honestly at least,
that there is a part of you
that always yearns for more –

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The Apparitions Came For Me Again

The apparitions came for me again,
the ghastly, ghostly figures
came at dawn –
why now,
I do not have the time to think,
reflect,
certainly not to mourn
a time that passed
and by and large
before I myself was born.

But on the remnant wisps of dream
they flutter by
and powerless to wake I’m forced to see
time slipping backwards,
ruins rebuilding themselves
while people shrink and disappear
and others wake from sleep.

Eventually the clock resumes its ticking –
the one that stopped –
not that it even matters,
as life itself is unwearied
by the ticking of a clock
and our thoughts of passing –
we are just like the weather,
shifting, changing,
here and there
we come and pass;
what matters is the climate
and that
(sadly for us)
takes longer to assess –

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Two O’Clock At Night

Two o’clock at night;
got up
and lit the lamp –
how long did I sleep,
how long been awake?
Darkness presses down,
the lamp struggles
sympathetically helpful
to keep it at bay.

I walked through
a large and cold house;
foreign, familiar –
past or future.
Someone’s death had caused
my presence there –
I went around and searched
for something; who knows what.
My head drummed with poetry
all starting with the line:
“What has happened?”

I moved some furniture around
and then some more.
I turned my back to hear
them relocate themselves.
All that I touched,
all that I moved
remained in place a second
and then returned
to where I moved it from –
nothing could disturb
their languid movements.

And two o’clock at night
I finally woke
completely exhausted
from all that work.
Now I wander aimlessly
about my flat
touching everything
to make sure
that it seems real.

I tell myself
a dream was all it was,
and you can just let it slip by.
But in my heart
I know that is a lie.

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I Wake in the Middle of the Night

I wake in the middle of the night
with outstretched arms
reaching for that which slips out of my grasp –
the world, life, sanity,
a future worth living in,
dreams worth dreaming
that actually stand a chance of coming true –

I fall asleep again and dream of dissolving,
dissipating,
disappearing –
I hear voices all around me
but when I answer them
they turn out to be just that;
voices
without senses
though they are embodied,
they cannot hear me
or they do not want to.

I wake in the morning, exhausted
and too tired to speak –

I tell myself that I might as well
live in the present
since it is all downhill from here
and the future gets more and more bleak
by the minute
and shrinks accordingly as well.

But if only someone listened –

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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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Memories

My memories escape my brain
invading my surroundings
I can remember what remains
of thousands of ventures
however incomplete they are alluring anyway
do you remember too, and will you listen?
Will you stay?

Do you remember afternoons
with ice cream cones in hand?
Do you remember later on
the lights under which we danced?
Do you remember early morns
rushing out of bed?
And do you remember later on
time suddenly rushing ahead?

My memories cannot be locked
away inside a shrine
somewhere behind my eyesockets
and far less can you ween
me away from their alluring imagery
for they’re the only remains of happiness
with you – a fantasy.

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Seams of Reality

You are
a being more of my imagination
than of reality
a superb and infallible creation
contradictory
perhaps to the true version

I’ve met
you once and never will I forget
the dream
surrounding the place and time we met
the seam
of reality flossed, broken to shreds

You don’t
know who I am, and you will never know
I remain
in hiding somewhere, I will never show
how vain
how drawn I am to you

And you
are unaffected, never will you see
what lurks
behind my eyes, as they continuosly seek
the mirth
in your eyes that makes me weak

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When It Was

When it was, it all was real,
today it is a shadow –
the lush green grass, a lonely cloud,
the daisies on the meadow –

When it was, it all was real,
but felt unreal to me –
then how much more unreal today
when I’m across the sea?

When it was, it was: It was!
Today it is a dream.
A dream that sweetens present days
with its soft, warming gleam

A welcome, numbing dream I dream
when the present seems too real;
when it was, it all was real –
today it’s just a dream.

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Insel des Einzelgänger 2.

Inner Monologue: What I’d Have Liked to Say if I Could

 

I. Times Pass

Dreamy eyes, lost in the mist
of times, where did you go?
The moon is out, it’s time to dream
but something stopped the flow
of dreams, it dried out long ago.

Will it recover over time
and re-open the submerged gates
to make the waters flow
downstream to unearthly dwellings
where they used to go?

 

II. Pantanal

Pantanal –
so like my physical being,
a place where giant waterlily leaves
rise from the depths
to protect the hidden secrets
of the waters
and if you wish to know the truth
you must look deeper, look beyond
the visible self
and reach the watersource
far far away
in the mountains
where the dreams
can finally
reach into the clouds
and turn to rain
like the tears
of a being long lost
in the mist

 

III. Upstream

Now I float towards
the end of the line
of goals reached or lost
when I abandoned the flow
to swim upstream
looking for answers
to unspoken words,
for words to heal
what silence hurt
long ago
when I was composed
of nothing but mind

 

V. Hunger

I am hungry for this feeling
projected from your hands,
will you quench my thirst
with the waters in your heart –
I am addicted
to the never-ending search
for something indescribable
which I feel
in the vibe
of electricity from your eyes –
you, strange being
with questions fully unfurled
how did you manage to
enter my world?

 

VI. Sanctuary

a place for me
to rejuvenate my energy
when the load is heavy
and the world seems inane –
I find a sanctuary
from all the dreary
hidden underneath your skin
and in your healing hands
when the sands of time
grind to a halt
and all I hear
comes from within your breast;
the sound of a lonely bird
looking for its nest

 

VII. The Hidden

sometimes in dreams
I follow the stream
of your inner river
searching for its source
but I fear maybe it’s hidden
in the clouds
just like your head
where I can never reach
and thus your secrets remain
hidden to me in your
veil of shadows
and starry eyes
and yet I keep searching
for the hidden source
that you will never let me find
eventually blinded by despair
over this restless search
leading nowhere

 

VIII. In the Lee of Dreams

softly resting
in the lee of dreams
where nothing can reach
except for a thought
invisible, wrapped up
in metaphors
of beautiful things
you think you want
but truly on your mind
in the lee of dreams
you can only think
of following the stream
that leads
to a closed heart

 

IX. Dimensions

I want to rest
my hand on your chest
to sink into the dimension
where dreams seem more real
than reality
while darkness swallows
our fragile forms
and we vanish
like dew in the sun,
forgotten in bliss
on the wings of
semi-conscious sleep

 

X. Non-being

wordless
invisible and secret
urges
fill the void
of nothingness
where worlds meet
and the thin screen
of impossible dreams
is ripped apart

there is a sense
of yielding strength
in your non-being
existence

 

XI. Emerge

darkness descends
upon a soul
filled with secrets untold
retracting whenever
disturbed,
swimming to safer waters

unheard
unseen
like a creature from a dream
you emerge
from your darkness
in your search
for the lightness of being
you so greatly miss

 

XII. Blue Screens

the flame
succumbs
to the dewdrops
and a veil of mist
a smokescreen
hiding the mind
will separate
you from me
till our eyes are freed
and we can see again
just long enough
to realize
our disguise
of desires
projected
on blue screens
when the world dreams

 

XIII. Yonder

when did you
see the wonder
in the hidden
yonder
the broken
the infinite borderline
where bells can’t ring
and birds don’t sing
when the rain
falls on the soul
and the secrets
of the boldest mind
will come to light –
a lightning storm
will sweep across the empty room
of eternity –
infinity broken
open
the doors to the unseen
the unknown
in-between realities
shatter like glass
when you lift your voice
in praise
in silence

 

XIV. Ivory

“In the mirror she sees a face;
ivory carved to a perfect shape,
twin pools of swirling water
translucent, bottomless pits of melancholic
wisdom from a time long forgotten

On the heart imprinted a mark
in contrast to the exterior stark,
it clouds her eyes when waves rise
and the ivory sculpture melts
to reveal the broken dam beneath her shell

You, fragile dualistic goddess of melancholy;
stonefaced, hidden in your cloak of irony,
there’s so much hidden in your eyes
pointed down though upwards you strive
in your glittering icicle disguise.”

 

XV. Evasive

Oh, you evaded me
mysterious dream;
you lured me with your silent chant
of what might be,
but you deluded me
led me to believe
that the dream was real
and reality a dream,
and when the dream evaporated
and evaded me,
reality stunned me
and caught me with its solitude;
why did you leave me,
how could you disappear
like a black cat in the darkness –
your illusions have vanished,
are invisible to my eyes –
in your failed attempt at setting me free
you left me wounded and powerless,
dodging your shadow

 

XVI. Conclusion

“What does it matter now?
The past is fixed, it cannot be perfected anyhow.
I’m heading home through winter storms
and spring rain and the summer’s heat
and autumn’s steadily falling leaves –
whichever way I want it there’s just that one way to go;
my island is at hand and yet it’s never within reach –
I’m standing at the mainland shore and spying for my native beach,
it’s waiting for me out there, this I know;
but how to get there – how to get there after all this time?
And even if I got there I am no longer the same.
What does it matter? Nothing matters now –
before the sea that separates us we’re all bound to bow.”