Doorsteps. Windows. Balconies. Bare feet. Feet on wood floor, feet on grass, feet on sand. Zu viele Bäume zu zählen. Hängematte. Langsam gehen. Rennen, so schnell wie ich kann. Waiting. Red lights. Green lights. Gemischte signale. Nicht genau wissen, was du willst. Pepper mills. Packing. Unpacking. Making an old home new. Making homes of bodies. Haut. Old scars. Haare. Die eigene Haare schneiden. Nakt schlafen. Zufälle. Zu Hause alleine tanzen. Seeing you dancing. Land so flat the sky pulls me miles away. Long breakfasts. Broad shoulders. Friends on my sofa. Mit dir auf der friends-Ebene bleiben. Streaks of rain falling in the distance. Listening. Croissant. Croissant dipped in coffee. Biscuits dipped in tea. Waking up. Waking up alone. Waking up alone after dreaming I wasn't. Überhaupt träumen. Haut. Hände. Hemden. Loose collars. The space between your neck, your shoulder, your collarbone. Grenzen. Singend fahrradfahren. Making a mess. Words. The sound of your voice, whatever the words. Comfortable silences. Leaves on trees. Leaves on the ground. Leaving someone I love. Blossom. Soil between my fingers. Wind on my face at the sea. Warmth on my back. Air on my legs. My parents. When you're talking about something you really care about. Touch. Coffee cups. Sun beams splitting the air. High fives. Telling friends how much I appreciate them. Telling siblings I love them. Peanut butter. Underpants. Spontaneous gifts. Seeing you laughing. Waves crashing on rocks. Holes in my pockets. Clouds, sweeping, rolling, drifting, feathering. All my little hopes and fears. Mountains that can be climbed. Mountains that can't. Abstand. Nähe. Doorsteps. Windows.
Sunday, April 16, 2017
Wednesday, April 12, 2017
seven sins
they say there's seven sins, but i lost count:
sins soak into my skin and spill out through my mouth,
drip into my saliva, and trickle down my throat,
filling every last inch of me up until i choke.
like tar in the air, blistering my lungs,
clogging up my arteries til i can't run, or even walk anymore,
just sit down and stare, and shake my head at all we've done.
see, we've been here before; we never really left.
humans and war, forever best friends,
destined to stick right together til the end,
walking the earth, hand in hand.
so hold my hand tight, sink down to your knees,
and bury your head in the sand with me.
they say there's seven sins, but i lost count.
see, you and me are different; that'll never change.
the problem's your religion - our god ain't the same.
the problem's in your pigment - our skin doesn't match.
the problem's in your short skirt, that begged me to snatch
at whatever i could get even though you said no.
the problem with equality is: everybody knows that
you and me are different, and i'm gonna show you
that my way is better, that you are below me,
my people are stronger, we're the ones who belong here,
my words are the bombs here, so watch as they fall down,
and bury us in endlessly repeating history.
they say there's seven sins, but i lost count.
as i walk the streets, sins lying all around,
like fallen leaves, cushioning my feet,
softly beckoning me to sleep:
"come, lay your head down, now, close your eyes.
forget what you saw, go back to your life.
coffee, bar, romance, clothes: sleep tight.
yeah, you and your friends are gonna be alright."
but we've been here before; we never really left.
always building walls up to protect us,
walls around only the ones we select,
walls that keep our hearts bereft
of empathy for the ones we're not,
for the ones who weren't born with our lot.
and we tell ourselves that they didn't earn it,
that it's their fault, and we turn.
cos you and me are different; don't tell me we're not.
there's no room here for immigrants - we're full right up.
we're too busy consuming, consume, don't stop
to think about who made it all, and what they got paid,
and how much oil and coal were burnt on the way,
and the countries that they're from, and the part we played
in centuries past, to make it this way.
they say there's seven sins...
yeah you and me are different; don't tell me we're not.
the problem's who you're sleeping with - see, sex has got to be
a man with a women, and while we're on the point,
you're the sex that you're born with; you've got no choice.
your body should conform, and so should your voice,
your size, your shape, your ability.
the problem with you is, you're different from me.
they say there's seven sins, but all i wanna count
is the small things i can do something about,
and the people that i love, who are different from me,
and the people they love, who i ain't never seen.
and i'll keep my eyes open to the shitstorm around,
but somehow i can't let it hold me down.
y'see, we've been here before, but there's cracks in these walls
that i can reach my fingers through,
there's still a chance to connect beyond the individual,
it's a myth that we are separate; their pain is yours too.
so don't just sit there and stare, don't bury your head,
don't close your eyes and sleep, don't turn away.
their difference is just a chance for you to learn.
their difference
is just a chance
for you to learn.
sins soak into my skin and spill out through my mouth,
drip into my saliva, and trickle down my throat,
filling every last inch of me up until i choke.
like tar in the air, blistering my lungs,
clogging up my arteries til i can't run, or even walk anymore,
just sit down and stare, and shake my head at all we've done.
see, we've been here before; we never really left.
humans and war, forever best friends,
destined to stick right together til the end,
walking the earth, hand in hand.
so hold my hand tight, sink down to your knees,
and bury your head in the sand with me.
they say there's seven sins, but i lost count.
see, you and me are different; that'll never change.
the problem's your religion - our god ain't the same.
the problem's in your pigment - our skin doesn't match.
the problem's in your short skirt, that begged me to snatch
at whatever i could get even though you said no.
the problem with equality is: everybody knows that
you and me are different, and i'm gonna show you
that my way is better, that you are below me,
my people are stronger, we're the ones who belong here,
my words are the bombs here, so watch as they fall down,
and bury us in endlessly repeating history.
they say there's seven sins, but i lost count.
as i walk the streets, sins lying all around,
like fallen leaves, cushioning my feet,
softly beckoning me to sleep:
"come, lay your head down, now, close your eyes.
forget what you saw, go back to your life.
coffee, bar, romance, clothes: sleep tight.
yeah, you and your friends are gonna be alright."
but we've been here before; we never really left.
always building walls up to protect us,
walls around only the ones we select,
walls that keep our hearts bereft
of empathy for the ones we're not,
for the ones who weren't born with our lot.
and we tell ourselves that they didn't earn it,
that it's their fault, and we turn.
cos you and me are different; don't tell me we're not.
there's no room here for immigrants - we're full right up.
we're too busy consuming, consume, don't stop
to think about who made it all, and what they got paid,
and how much oil and coal were burnt on the way,
and the countries that they're from, and the part we played
in centuries past, to make it this way.
they say there's seven sins...
yeah you and me are different; don't tell me we're not.
the problem's who you're sleeping with - see, sex has got to be
a man with a women, and while we're on the point,
you're the sex that you're born with; you've got no choice.
your body should conform, and so should your voice,
your size, your shape, your ability.
the problem with you is, you're different from me.
they say there's seven sins, but all i wanna count
is the small things i can do something about,
and the people that i love, who are different from me,
and the people they love, who i ain't never seen.
and i'll keep my eyes open to the shitstorm around,
but somehow i can't let it hold me down.
y'see, we've been here before, but there's cracks in these walls
that i can reach my fingers through,
there's still a chance to connect beyond the individual,
it's a myth that we are separate; their pain is yours too.
so don't just sit there and stare, don't bury your head,
don't close your eyes and sleep, don't turn away.
their difference is just a chance for you to learn.
their difference
is just a chance
for you to learn.
Thursday, April 06, 2017
worlds spin
it was just a coincidence that we met that day.
two points in one time, two times in space.
worlds spin towards each other, and spin away.
and as you spin and turn,
shadows creep over the contours of your skin,
shadows that leave no trace at all of those moments,
where such strong light seemed to shine
on what i thought i saw,
but almost so much light as to blind,
before each time you spin away.
and slowly my gravity distorts,
axis spins, quivers and shifts,
and i did not choose this but can't resist
the pull towards,
that twists my orbit a bit
too much,
chasing the fading light behind
curves of absence,
not really wanting but unable to stop,
as if my spin isn't stable enough,
pulled in like towards a small black hole
to plummet and drag in
everything else that matters,
all matter sucked in,
indiscriminately,
until i know i can't see you anymore down here,
can't see anyone else,
can only see what i think you must be,
how you must fit exactly to me,
fill up my shadows
with something that will finally hold me in place,
like gravity given a slap in the face.
and i know this spin isn't good for me.
worlds spin together, and spin away.
i think i can't see you for a few days.
the days go by,
and the shadows fade,
and the gravitational pull
slips away.
this is not
an orbit
around you;
it's just a beat i'm moving to -
two hands, two feet, two shoulder blades,
two eyes, two knees, two sides of my own symmetry,
one spine running down between,
a clean cut right through my own breadth,
my very own axis, around which i spin,
two halves, planted firmly on the ground,
one rhythm, split to many sounds.
this is not an orbit around you;
it's just a beat i'm moving to.
two worlds spin to their own beats,
but just so happen to chance to meet.
it was just a coincidence that we met that day.
worlds spin together, and spin away.
and i can only see you, if i spin this way.
two points in one time, two times in space.
worlds spin towards each other, and spin away.
and as you spin and turn,
shadows creep over the contours of your skin,
shadows that leave no trace at all of those moments,
where such strong light seemed to shine
on what i thought i saw,
but almost so much light as to blind,
before each time you spin away.
and slowly my gravity distorts,
axis spins, quivers and shifts,
and i did not choose this but can't resist
the pull towards,
that twists my orbit a bit
too much,
chasing the fading light behind
curves of absence,
not really wanting but unable to stop,
as if my spin isn't stable enough,
pulled in like towards a small black hole
to plummet and drag in
everything else that matters,
all matter sucked in,
indiscriminately,
until i know i can't see you anymore down here,
can't see anyone else,
can only see what i think you must be,
how you must fit exactly to me,
fill up my shadows
with something that will finally hold me in place,
like gravity given a slap in the face.
and i know this spin isn't good for me.
worlds spin together, and spin away.
i think i can't see you for a few days.
the days go by,
and the shadows fade,
and the gravitational pull
slips away.
this is not
an orbit
around you;
it's just a beat i'm moving to -
two hands, two feet, two shoulder blades,
two eyes, two knees, two sides of my own symmetry,
one spine running down between,
a clean cut right through my own breadth,
my very own axis, around which i spin,
two halves, planted firmly on the ground,
one rhythm, split to many sounds.
this is not an orbit around you;
it's just a beat i'm moving to.
two worlds spin to their own beats,
but just so happen to chance to meet.
it was just a coincidence that we met that day.
worlds spin together, and spin away.
and i can only see you, if i spin this way.
Monday, April 03, 2017
waiting for / explosion
it must be coming soon.
there's been announcements everywhere, on screens,
and you can read it in people's tight faces,
jerky movements,
too sharp,
hands tense,
eyes checking.
all these people are making you nervous.
you should've stayed at home, inside.
but who knows if that would've been better -
the air thick like honey,
eyes to the window,
ears so compressed by the silence
that you'd have tried to push music inside to cover it up,
but none of it would fit.
and what if you'd get trapped in there?
what if it would hit your building?
no, being inside would be no good.
but being out here isn't so easy either.
anxious bodies, everywhere, moving too quickly.
eyes meet and then flick away.
where are they all going?
your body, charged, but not sure where to move -
over here, follow them, err, no, sit down, stand up, go,
listen:
the explosions are coming.
the explosions are coming.
you don't know what kind, what to expect.
you don't know when, but it must be today.
you don't know where, but not far away.
you don't know how many, but it could be a few.
your body, charged,
ready to flinch, wince, crunch, crouch, crash, shield,
don't
look
away.
it could happen
any
moment.
you know,
you have to say it at some point.
you know you have to say it,
at some point.
it's been building for weeks,
at first a murky paste stuck to the bottom of your feet,
and then slowly spreading like jelly,
up through your legs, your belly, your chest, your head,
until gradually everything was shaking,
uncertain if would stay together, in one piece.
you know you have to say it,
the truth that crept up through your shoes,
and shook
right
through.
you know you have to say it,
and you know what will happen when you do.
you know, the explosions are coming.
there's been announcements everywhere, on screens,
and you can read it in people's tight faces,
jerky movements,
too sharp,
hands tense,
eyes checking.
all these people are making you nervous.
you should've stayed at home, inside.
but who knows if that would've been better -
the air thick like honey,
eyes to the window,
ears so compressed by the silence
that you'd have tried to push music inside to cover it up,
but none of it would fit.
and what if you'd get trapped in there?
what if it would hit your building?
no, being inside would be no good.
but being out here isn't so easy either.
anxious bodies, everywhere, moving too quickly.
eyes meet and then flick away.
where are they all going?
your body, charged, but not sure where to move -
over here, follow them, err, no, sit down, stand up, go,
listen:
the explosions are coming.
the explosions are coming.
you don't know what kind, what to expect.
you don't know when, but it must be today.
you don't know where, but not far away.
you don't know how many, but it could be a few.
your body, charged,
ready to flinch, wince, crunch, crouch, crash, shield,
don't
look
away.
it could happen
any
moment.
you know,
you have to say it at some point.
you know you have to say it,
at some point.
it's been building for weeks,
at first a murky paste stuck to the bottom of your feet,
and then slowly spreading like jelly,
up through your legs, your belly, your chest, your head,
until gradually everything was shaking,
uncertain if would stay together, in one piece.
you know you have to say it,
the truth that crept up through your shoes,
and shook
right
through.
you know you have to say it,
and you know what will happen when you do.
you know, the explosions are coming.
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