Berlin and Back in a Day

Sitting on a high speed train
I stretch my brain
Each ripple I watch unfold
Memories untold and flimsy hope
Crumbled dreams and dust of gold
Falling like postcards across my mind –
Germany rushing by

Song to Whoever

For us to be in love, each day I must –

Nourish every passion in this German soul
Feed Love with other hearts and minds
Rekindle Anger with pins in my voodoo doll
Steal moments and play them to Wit on my shoulder
Carefully wrap it all in language and balance
Life dancing across the gorge of everytime
Chase my shadows and ghosts until they love life
Intrude and rage inside the sanctuary of relativism, then
Unplug my heart and shed its blood in thick drops of tears, to
Work for what will be beyond you and me
My mother-tongue I must break to make room for the kaleidoscope of exile

I must only live –
Fly with the owls, hunt with the cats, eat with the eagles and sleep amongst crocodiles
Jump from the stage of my life into the abyss
Knowing that the full embrace of your love will catch me

You must not change anything
For if you really are what glimpse I caught -
Just make me a part of your whole life

Thanks James for the "love or die" graffiti...

Six Feet Under

Everybody dies and everybody lives
With their struggles and their pleas
Our crystal sorrow summer afternoon
Teaches a child swim attune
The powerful calm of life sways
From in between
And not a rock and a hard place

Crossroads

It’s not that love is not around
In her nightgown she stands as Jeanne of Arc
Over the rubble of the city she had build deep inside
Life had torn through metal, glass and wood
Tearing it up like an angry storm chasing lost hair
And at the end
I collect scattered hopes, wishes and dreams
In company of her and the wildlife

Goodbye, and Good Luck

This is goodbye to magnify, the thread and needle, sweet and lime,
A hunch, a weak and futile lie - the urge to sing a lullaby,

To share, what won’t be shared again,
To purge, to heal, to chance, sustain,
To chase what’s brazen into light,
To gain and conquer, reunite,
The story of a gentle friend,
That signified with wonderment.

My friend, I’ve seen you snoop and pray,
For Paragon, the God of May,
Protecting love and luck and play,
Treads softly over heath and hay,
His antlers care to touch the frail.

My dear, I heard you cry tonight,
For Grampian rain is quite contrite,
We carry our precious freight,
The ribbon of a scattered kite.

About Loss

People are different
They open a map of the world
To point at places where their lives unfurled
They work brains on gravel roads
Until knackered and moribund.
They pour poetry through pasta sieves held in the middle of it all
Like suspended on a long arm –
And then turn the revels of unconditional love
Into pulp.

What I cherish is the way
You let me be who I wanted to be.
I have the memory of your arm
- it was so bruised, like jilted charm
And your skin was so thin
And you studied the pathology of concrete,
But yet you glued a dancing couple into the night-sky over wild wheat
And the thought of the best of us made me shiver and shake.

You were my paradigm. I gave you love,
A marmalade jar full of fire-flies,
Made up stories and quirky tales,
An afternoon in the park and the summer breeze,
Idiosyncratic music when I couldn’t speak
And a song for your soul to seek.

Yet people are different
And while they operate on the revels of practical love
They may choose to amputate.

Leaving you coming back again

I am a tree
Trees sleep when they like
They spread their arms
And let the wind do the rest

I’m on a 24 hour bus trip
Each time I wake up, I’m at another place

So when I had been back home for a while,
And a friend asked me: Did you arrive?
Are you present and alive?
I had to say no, for what I had left on the bus.

Just like that day on the airplane,
When it had stopped in mid-air
And my drowsy brain
Took the moon-cratered landscape of the wing
For the country where I was heading.

Wishing Well

I wish I could scream on a fun-fair
I wish I could sleep cat-like
I wish I could paint in a snail shell
I wish I could walk in a clay-pot
I wish I would blossom with my shoes on
I wish I would dream of a shipyard
I wish my spine would crack
Like the back of a book. Open.

I Jump

From the top of a hill
Back into the wind
There are only two lights
And the way you hold yours
Shuffles my feet
On top of the dune
Hushed sand below

Work

What am I working on this morning,
When cloudlets pass the rising sun
And might make you sneeze
Or meet another one
Who just discovered a favourite place
As you might now?