Where people cry out peace
celebrate the victory
and preach compassion

there is fear and oppression
there are eyes watching
whether one conforms

to the status quo
but where there is peace
regulated in laws and institutions

because everybody's voice counts
and freedom is a right
love the highest

the living life
beyond the eyes
of frameworks and plans

there we can be together
and discover and fulfill
who we are

How do you count from zero to one?
Does the new year start with
the bursting of the buds?
my life with birth?

or already in winter
when
mother's belly and buds
are thickening? in summer

with the very first molecule?
or is there no beginning, only
hunger
and a devouring mouth

digesting the tail of the old
into an eternal serpent --
the symbolic zero
that does not symbolize anything

that really exists
or it should be me
and you, we human beings
who can no longer do without it?

The world is changing us

That's how we are, a little
do we change

the world for our convenience
and to eat, sky high

we build suites of rooms
winged and on wheels

teach it to our children
teach them to think

that the world is changing
on account of people, which is true

after millennia, finally
we make differences

and yet it is not so
The world changes us

it pinches off traditions and imposes new
habits, it determines

the conditions of being
or not being

People belong to each other, we
should take care of each other
lifelong, our life
Furthermore, there are no requirements
no mandatory extras

Good deeds are not necessary
neither are friendship and love
That is all luxury
for which we long
for we know what it is

We learned it as a child
from adults who just gave it
because they could not help it
because they are like that, human
But you cannot demand it

There are no schools for it
no medicines or prisons
There are politicians and barracks though
with weapons and commanders
telling what care means, sometimes

they command that it means to kill
and being killed may be
a fulfilment of duties
but we cover that up
with the garment of love

We see each other as heroes
and that helps, yes, I too
can be wise and skillful
in handling the energy of life

realizing that heroes too
are tired after their tours de force
– the life-size warding off
not-living

My parents started it
I sensed their fears
and discovered step by step
more and more for myself

what is unsafe
Sometimes I wait in a corner
for what might happen
encapsulating with love and down

what imposes itself
inside and outside of me
I let it go, let it flow on
I'm balancing in the force field

I want to be healthy
not anaesthetize anything and yet
live a carefree life as if
we always wake up again

Mama leaves it up to me
that I do not fight nor join
the popular girls, I

won't let anyone put me in my place
I don't want to be more or less
and I distrust their attention

Mama leaves it up to me
what I'm wearing, she gives me money
for glass slippers

but I'd rather be dressed as usual
when I attend the New Year's party
without having to turn down the boys

Mama leaves it up to me
to grab the reins and
brush and feed the mares

of my dreams
and learn from good luck
to be my fairy myself

Browsing through my photos
I chose the colourful elephant
as my nameplate in the web

My skin feels every fly
that lands on me with telelegs
as if I ever promised

to be connected with them
and ready for them
forever

But I want to be there
for those who feel the vibration
when I stamp on the ground

I sweep away the flies with a kiss
maybe they find without wings
their home close by on the ground

I am there too, in every colour
recognizable while I dwell
where I dwell and work where I work

There is so much to experience
that nobody needs to go anywhere
if he gives attention

Is thinking ahead

     a Pleasure Dome
     in which you know that
     he will take a shower and then
     you know by the smell of his musk
     what awaits you?

          the art of stumbling in such a way
          that a competitor comes to your aid
          and moving along with your apparent fall
          is crushed by an inconspicuous push
          after which you whine
          about his undeserved end?

               depleting the earth
               by colonizing mineral
               resources and that everyone
               puts together a survival kit
               for all conceivable disasters?

                    the Dark Palace of the question
                    of how you want to die, not now
                    but later with you or rather
                    alone with a black pill
                    against unbearable suffering
                    or a hopeless existence?

Or is it too tiring?

I do love you
of me, because I love you
Only you!

I do love you, love you, love
These words are rather plain
no, there is nothing to explain
I only have to sing that I love you

I do want you, want you, want
So hear, my needs are clear
oh hear, forget your fear
of me, because I love you

     I do love you
     it's safe, you can surrender
     to feel the love I offer you

     Please, do not worry
     about the world, about everything
     that threatens to go wrong

     Let it go, let me come
     into your heart, into you arms
     then you will no longer be alone

     Just listen to a sad song
     then you will be better
     then you will be free for me

In the back of the bike
I learn to read
I get a map full

of names of roads
that I miss up to beyond
the horizon of the earth

In the back of the bike
I learn to kiss and to be alone
in springs and unseasonable times

In the back of the bike
of my senses I construct how
everything moves and I myself

move along while I sit still
in my feelings and think
everything moves

My face rocks
among the flowers
above the deep sun
in the water

I sit on the side
and see me
in the circle
of yellow glory

I want to be honest
bloom together
vulnerably naked
shivering in the wind

take care of myself
without illusions
about myself and you
You are just like me

and we are equally in love
with each other's beauty
as with ourselves, two springs
on one waterfront

His black eye looks back
to me, we are alone
in the meadow, in the roadside

I hold my breath
everything becomes lighter
around the black

Meadow and road the world
empty and we eye
and beating heart

Heavy and firmly
my legs all four
in the ground

Strength crackles
around the electric barbed wire
in my insides

Springtails are the gnomes of the forest
steppe and swamp, city and country
They eagerly massage the skin of the earth

They poop fertile soil
where there is waste, they are the mighty
secret army of the Seven from the Game

they are the whip from the Chariot
their wheels run through life
and digest it night and day

Willlessly they execute the Will
hungry they feed the germs
and give life to death

The boy has grown up
he comes ashore

in the harbour of nostalgia
and everyday blues
as a king with a parade
of splendour and a gang

Surrounded by soldiers
he strokes the fur
of his robe
He is not a hero

He does not bring golden times
no wages according to work
no protection from injustice
He only gives a show

of his power, his free hand
to hunt unicorns

I do remember
I have seen it many times
on their faces, their demand

to be a big girl
not unbridledly whining
for attention

    Just explode, you are strong
    the furious evidence
    of our right

not to take care
of me, they were entitled
to their own lives

so I opened my mouth
invincible, powerful
for myself and everyone

I do not tolerate injustice
in front of me, do you hear me?
What is it with the people?

They walk blindly through the city
avoid strangers and grannies
ignore hungry pussycats

and throw away their plants, well
I have boundless energy, but
where is the army to help me?

Don't talk about me
you will not succeed anyway
to say who I am

You don't nearly know everything
but you want to experience me
as you know me

No story will fit around it
packing your experience
and hiding it

Don't venture upon labels
you would need even more
than can fit in a book

thick layers on top of each other
an unreadable wall
locking me up

You don't have to explain to anyone
why we are friends
not to yourself either

Persephone wears flowers
and tough jackboots like a soldier
with muscles, or an open waistcoat
with a mini skirt like a virgin, always
conquering the instincts around her

In Coco's dress, she parades on Jersey
the transparent plastic rustles
every time I kiss it
passers-by take photos
she is in the newspapers

Spring has begun
old desires wake up
people get aroused
and inspired to let themselves go
she is an example

everyone sees her, but doesn't know who she is
flowers cover her bare body
she charms soldiers and virgins
with instincts, singing her praises
and creating life

A Knowing Feeling
stirs in me
when I choose colours
when painting or
strike strings on the zither

Others make inventions
design processes
write the truth or
fantasize it
Is it the Muses

a divine spirit or
is it the flow of time
that pours nectar
into open mouths?
Just open the mouth

like a chakra
and receive it
no longer feel yourself
and enjoy
total peace?

My family is the world
in miniature. Stop!
Turn it around: the world
is a house full of oddies

whom I fortunately don't see often
but would miss at a party
if we are not complete
because my heart is open

my chambers are empty
enough to receive
and my mouth isn't spilling over
to fill guests

with gaudy conceitedness
Come, cousins
ignorant of who you are
and meet each other

I my mind, I laugh
at myself, at my struggle
with myself, I cannot help
but fight my views

which are restricting me, fight
them with all the energy I have
and give away to what I want
to surmount, because I wish to win

with the ease of the master
who has lost the battle
in the clear awareness of nothing
outside himself being really enough

to confirm his existence
with a wholehearted yes, that recognizes
who he is, who I am, the yes
that I have said to myself so often

without fully believing in it
thinking of others
thinking of others
to satisfy my needs

Senses, to be touched
and to be able to touch, the difference
between being and not being

I touch, so I exist

If I am not touched
I will wither, but
if I do not touch, I do not exist

I can be a loner
touch plants and animals
to live on

I can influence their lives
change their future
I can feed, kill and everything

in between has effects too
even the smallest ripples
make a difference, that is existence

the way we want it, making a difference
making a little positive difference
with each wing beat

When I was young, they said
She can wear them
those gaudy clothes

And now they are who I am
apart from my body
that they camouflage

They are the strong woman
who lets herself be guided
by them who are weak

and afraid, as if it is their fault
to be nobody, one of the many
who are not heard

Together we fight
my name and I
we fight for someday

freedom and peace everywhere
wisdom everywhere
compassion everywhere

The door is never locked
The key is just in it
ready to use
and never lost

but if you are busy
with problems on your mind
you will go look for it

and not get the idea
that you can just move on
by pressing the latch

Meditation does not help either
with the worries
you forget what is there
behind the door

and you stay where you are
calm and resigned
you put life into perspective

and you fantasize
how different it could be
behind the door

of your mind

I feel the discomfort
of staying where I am
and leaving the problem

to someone else's job or duty
to the neighbours with whom it happens
on the outskirts of the village

It's urgent, there is need
to fix the houses and the barns
but

it takes too long
or there is too little time
for my impatience

I talk with the neighbours
while we wait
until we can move on

within reason and the rules
of the comfort of staying
where we are

People are too short old
and too long young, they don't
become as wise as brownies

They have little profit
from the lessons they draw
from pain and pleasure, and

from the lessons they ignore
because they prefer to believe
in what the world promises

because they prefer to believe
it is within reach
and the prospect is worth it

to keep waiting
and I can't do anything about it
I'm just a rainbow

that is never there where you are
a gate on the horizon
where all the exits come together

I learn all sorts of things
that will be useful later
with diplomas

that should be enough
not to be worried
about my future, simply
helping others and devoting
myself with a shrug
to what I am good at

But is it enough
to live being embraced
by the All, not as a learned animal
but as a human being, knowing that
it lasts just a short time
without feeling this?

How do I stay cheerful and healthy
a human with humans, every day
again as new, knowing that

I enjoy sitting in the sun
waiting, desirable
I think, I hope
to be for you

Around me, people are
going their way, as always
The sun moves on
and the shadow follows

Fish keep quiet
boats sail past
the smell of charcoal
Life is food, someone laughs

The sounds drift off
My waiting is over
blown away in eternal now
I enjoy sitting in the shade

We have not embraced
the seqoias, not felt
their warmth this winter

We really need to get going
descend ten kilometers
south from Red Cloister

along the three sources
the playground and the pale castle
La Solitude

to the two families
in the middle of the beech forest
Every twenty-two I want

to touch them, tree by tree
warm myself to them
share in their strength

With you and someone else
I want to encircle them
breast to bark

People in need -- in a game
of Truth is Dare and Do
I fly in, in a cape, swift as an arrow

and get entangled, sticking
to the strings that I weave
of the help that I give

I put my hands out, so softly
you take them with the heroic power
that jumps over, you smile --

In the world to help, to help
each other, right
if only

you are with me
and know my questions
and spoil me with attention

We are no longer teenagers
yet we still fly back and forth
to help each other, time after time

Am I quite tiring, too full of myself?
Do you get restless, preferring to leave?
Maybe I'm talking too much: take some rest
Shall I come close to you, silently?

     Oh, with the help from my friends, yes with you
     Mm, with the help from my friends, it's so good
     Oh, with the help from my friends, yes I can
     With the help from my friends

Are there friends in your neighbourhood?
Yes, people need friends, we are not alone
Are there friends you can reach?
Yes, people need friends for a helping hand

Are there friends at your work?
I'm just doing better with friends
Are there friends at your home?
My friends, they are warming my soul

Are there friends when you dance?
With friends, it is always a party
Are there friends when you smile?
My friends, they are making me strong

Are there friends when you cry?
I'm sharing my sorrows with friends
Are there friends you are missing?
My friends, they embrace one another

In the peace of a moment of rest
in pushed up pillows
I feel the love
of a friend opening me

to the Force and the people
I miss, whom I can't give
what I want to share

In my mind I attentively train
my body as a freeway
for what I need
The attention soothes the pain

and my emotions, yet
it is the attention from outside
that makes me happy

lifting me feathery light
into the eternity
of being connected
and letting go of myself

Shoot me, shoot me
shoot me to heaven
up in the oak, everyone
barefoot on the family bed
     Come join us, here you are free!

We don't have to believe in anything
except in each other, the singer too
is loose, he laughs at his amulet
and waves to the old man:
     Come join us, here you are free!

The greybeard sees everything
with twinkling eyes in his long beard
full of bushes of moss in which
the wren whistles:
     Come join us, here you are free!

Come in the Crown
take off your shoes and socks
together on the family bed
a warm blanket to each other
     Come join us, here you are free!

Sorry, do not count on me
I retreat for a while
in a silence wagon, but

I'm still coming along. Sometimes
there are noisy people blowing inside
Nothing to do about it

If they just shut their mouths
they might think -
that their lives very well may slow down

if they want, if they live
like they want life to be
for their children

Where is this train going?
The birds do not know
they see what we eat

and they don't understand:
we eat trees and mountains
metals, we spit them around

we eat what we think

that is empty, the night as well
but still we are hungry -
for attention and beauty

He jumped up
made a somersault with twist
and is back in the circle again

as if nothing happened
in those four seconds
(I guess)

(how was it?)
a flash of beauty
to meditate on now

falling into place myself
from the space of possibilities
and ignorance

Maybe I stay there
maybe it will shift
maybe it stays

I move fluently or with friction
on my own course, along with the rest
     even if I make speed
     to reach a goal

     a well-meant illusion
     if I don't quite dare
     to trust It -
     the water that carries me

     not asking anything from me
     because everything always does fit
     and it is up to me
     what I experienced from it

     and am aware of, then
     getting free from
     the daily problems
     where society squeezes

     and my short-sightedness
     catches bumps and dents
     which I patiently smoothen out
     with attention, attention

     to my injuries
     and to It, the greater whole -
     until I move so smooth and supple
     that there is no friction

     being an invitation
     to whoever needs me
     and does notice me in the stream -
     called as I am called

Everything starts with it, language
(mama's face and sweet words)
turning, crawling, walking
(mama's hand and encouragement)
eating, playing, wanting
(mama's example and commentary)
sand, water, wind, wood and fire
(heaven and earth)
animals, cars, construction cranes
(the world)
school, listening, practising
(teachers and reading)
practising and practising
(expertise)
until my attention slides smoothly
(like a fish in water)
through the matter
(mastery)

With people, it is different
(they are like me)
they scatter my energy
(in changing rain)
from clouds of love

It is this ordinary Tuesday
that has slid by today

over familiar activities, normal
routine

it is the talk about the weather
before I quickly get on again

it is the way it goes, life
Here I am, without a sash

realizing in homeliness
how pale my skin is

under the cotton black
that has no depth and

no gold-stitched thoughts
I'm just sitting, in the evening

and nothing has happened today
Did I live? Do I miss something?

Or is it this, this silence
before I go to sleep?

The pictures, a life of pleasure
no blood, sweat and tears
but people around
my cradle in the family circle

through the gate, the playground
in the park, the stage
of the children
we still are

Then, everyone around the field
halfway through the match
that could still be won
at the time

our hands on the cherry wood
with the rings of our vow
in the middle of the room
on the happiest day

Everything has been celebrated
surrounded by loved ones and friends
for life, in turn each other's
audience around the field

Good day, darling in the mirror
I love you, all day

I will take care of you and as strongly
as my wishful thoughts think

that they will grow from my hands
into my life, rooted

in smiling health
as hungry am I

for lightheartedness
my fears anchored

in glowing blood
my body anchored

in the great soul
of friends everywhere

as hungry am I
for my best self

Trees felled, rivers overflow
The world is unsafe, magic
spells are mangled

We were already afraid of it
Out of desperation some have
predicted it high to low

We don't hear the master
But we are young, we want to live
if necessary against better judgment

No ruin will remain
We build dams and lodges
who and what's in the way is done for

This is the new reality
Learning is hard, the world as small
and poor as we are ourselves

The beasts from outside carry daggers
on their head and have rough hair

they don't let rot anything, they eat
what is weak, almost dead

or already deceased, so is life
and it is good that way

Without you from now on
because the wild boar came

a ruffle in the distance
their snorting at the door

the black of their eyes
deep as the universe

Nothing is left, everything remains
and runs away on fast legs

The wild boar eat everything
They are good friends

Maybe we were once stranded here
on the slopes of these mountains
between the white peaks and the low land

We certainly came up with words
to tell that story
and we went into the world

with that answer to the question
Where do we come from?
From the belly of the boat

as the image of our Mother
Earth, who is born where she is
in the lap of heaven

above the Holy Mountains
which kiss eternity
on the border of our existence

We move on and give names
to the world we discover
Time and space embrace us

Children grow, may
and must be busy

with themselves
may and must

want to be left alone
unreachable, for a long time

avoiding contact
and ask for attention

when it suits them
That's how they are

growing up, and being mature
they keep growing, busy

with themselves, unreachable
they want to be left alone

as long as they avoid contact
and there appear gaps

which, once it suits them
they close as well as possible

with long monologues
and also some

answers to questions
love is asking

Sometimes I go crazy with all the life
I want to live, but that does not fit
in the time I have

Emotions get in my way
they proliferate and fill
the time I have

I must shed them with love
because the hard way fails
in the time I have

to break myself open
and shift my attention
to the sun

in the life nearby
to which I can connect
in the time I have

Fortunately, she is still there
the enthusiastic girl
in me, she would like to

play with her sister
who lacked so much
and still does feel it

and still is trying
to catch up with it, it's not easy

to help her
listen to the love

of my adult mind
She wants a father like fathers
should be, a dad, close

in her head, in my head
to protect her and
to be her example

Here I laughed with the son
of the ferryman at the people
who don't believe in miracles
we had a beer and he pointed

me the way in the maze
of ditches and country roads
the windmills in the distance
beckoned me, but I was afraid

of getting lost and I longed
for a good bed
before I would kneel
in the Holy Site

Now it's a dead affair here
a miracle of nature
ivy overgrows the ground
the trees and the tombstones

but there are no roots growing
between the bones in the pit
on which I stand, only fungi
that have been living for centuries

There is no longer a ferry

Seven days is enough
if you only have seven days
to create

Humans do have more time
but no one sees the results
because they are never finished

Yet I keep working
My fire flares up
I want to burn intensely

and lose myself in attention
to the bodies and the languages
that make people readable

lose myself in them
in the fire of their attention
which creates my life

He was left sick
in a cave made up as a nest

with dates, figs, in leather bags
also water and wine, light and dark
emmer beer, syrup, bread, butter
cheese and mutton, all set ready
and hanging around his head

In the sweet scent of resins
he lay there as in a grave
and the moon watched over him
After three days he rose
from his dreams and his tears

He set out to cross the mountains
where no trees grow
Prince Lugalbanda
who adorned the young eagle with the lion's head
with kohl around its eyes

and fragrant sprigs of white cedar
on its head, and around the chick
he arranged the fat sheep meat
that he had salted, and chunks
of bread dough mixed with honey

The Storm-bird rewarded him
with the power to run
tirelessly and fast
like seven storms, like the sun
in its orbit in the sky

The raven in the elder
holds out longer than I do
to experience each other's soul
without blinking

What's the news
she is coming to get from me
what is it that she brings to me?
I remember

the Queen Mother, the smile
on her kind words:
that thrones are shaken
by their own growth

For her there are steps added
to descend with older knees

to the birds and the bees
the toil of the people
their powerlessness and better knowing
and the ravens everywhere

It's raining. People take shelter
in the cathedral, sit down

and get accustomed to the dark
The windows don't give light

nor colour today
Some people get up and walk

the pattern of the labyrinth -
modestly in long coats

Here and there a row
step by step over silent stones

solid ground under their feet
no hollow tombs as the destination

of the round trip to and fro
through the quarters of life

but as it is: a flower

To discover what who
sometimes why, by dothinking
not in bed like a buzzard

up on thermal
to a higher view
spiral-wise screwing up thoughts

and then diving on the core
that's the way I'd like to do it
but my head splashes apart

like a seedpod full of questions
from which a garden of wonder
grows about life and why

we make such a fuzz about it
that we entrench
and build artificial flowers

as if that changes anything

I walk back and forth
my house is not big

Outside is too far for me
and it is cold there
with dark clouds

I have plenty of time
to look, to see
small contrasts, birds flying past
the life that is dear to me

Do come to me
feel what is real
for which I put so much effort
feel what is important

what is pleasant, beautiful and cheerful
feel that there are friends
to share it with

now and later for yourself
there's no need to be afraid

I allure you, dancing
slowly around you right
through the laser rays
my eyes don't let you go

I get far enough into you
not to go with you right away
We'll meet tomorrow
and then in a week

At home, my parents are waiting
with their dreams about me
In the city, a career awaits
and in my body everything awaits

the next step
It is the art of balancing
to be myself
and to know what I want

We meditated in India
but we better sing
about our frustrations

Half of it is humbug
nice throw-away songs

to fall asleep to or
about being in love, fighting
over a woman, monkeys
and mirrors on your shoe-tips
to peek at an excitement
you don't see

so that we reach you
with the other half

- Fame is a roller coaster
   you always get out at the bottom
- Finding peace within yourself
   is the beginning
   of the revolution
- Black birds also sing
   beautifully, don't break their wings
- and stop feeding
   fat pigs
- Live wisely, no sweets
   It's bad for your teeth

Begin at the beginning
and strike out all conceitedness

After my education is the party
Everyone at table, now
we are going into the world
solve the problems
There's nothing better

We can do it
We are entitled to it
Everything is possible
Who does what?
Who has a plan?

     We didn't agree
     and that was against us
     The deal is off
     No happiness for all people
     Mission Failed

     A hard lesson
     to be more or all the less
     realistic
     or both, if you can be young
     and old at the same time

Can I get past my shame
to tell about myself?

About my fear
to be different
my fear of the reactions
that may change everything

I want to laugh, live
a festive life, come on
put on music, let's dance
and maybe we'll trust

each other enough
to be open
It's not an exam
we don't have to fight

ourselves, sorry
for speaking on your behalf too

Under the vine, I dance
with my swan arm one by one
the grapes above our heads
gracefully to your longing mouth
in my lap
     Do you feel what I feel?

Or does your desire look too far
ahead and is it worried
whether it will stay that way?
I don't know, I don't know
We shall see, you are with me
     Do you feel what I feel?

The smile in your eyes
sucks me in your heart
that's nice, we kiss
the light of heaven
and the goodness of the earth
     Do I feel what you feel?

I feel love, and it makes us
beautiful, it makes beautiful
what we do, do not doubt
     Feel what I feel
     then I will feel what you feel

We've only just left
or I'm already longing to return
My life is an unpredictable journey

always on the same roads
The familiar road stations gleam
at a distance, purer than on the spot:

valleys of love, wonder, and knowledge
which I love to visit, and excitedly

leave quickly at the tinkle
of the bells of the caravan
of my needs

I wander between their oases
Only in the void do I find
what my soul yearns for

You you you want me, want to be
close to me in the King-size bed
you search inspiration
and seem to be only half working

You you you want me, want to be
close to me and you don't see
crooked eyes, only me
you want me while you work

You you you want me, want to be
close to me in the King-size bed
and I want you you you
with me, in the King-size bed

I want you you you close to me
Your work makes no progress
and I am bored
in the King-size bed

The light is brighter
the colours live, I feel
it is fresh: it is fresh
Why would I want a coat

over this happiness? - my breathing
in the pure reality
of reality, knowing
that it is not a dream

even though flowers grow in the dark
and green lights are jumping around
between the autumn leaves of the garden
No enchantment, but sparks

of eternity
I shiver from it
I feel
Maybe it is cold

maybe my soul shivers
from the closeness
of the fulfilment
of my longing for happiness

I know
fathers fail
as the great man

who knows the outside world
with whom you are safe, and
happy when he is proud of you

who takes you with him and shows you
the way in his domain, and step by step
you begin to see that it is different

That doesn't count at first
but suddenly it's over
Then you no longer listen

to your pet name, you fight
scratches in your soul
cracks in the calluses

It bleeds when you scratch it
Until you can breathe freely
and the wounds close

At home on the couch
I crumple the edges
of the puke bag

The old times, the old songs
the excuses for the postponement
of the promised future

are back, back
from not having been away

We're still at home
in Old Man State, our
freedom was a dream

There are no more musicians
and no more beautiful
girls from Ukraine

The iron cold is back, back
from not having been away

After our working day we look
at the Beautiful World, where
duties and rules do not apply
and the Stars can shine

We look up to them
We see that it exists
and that is a comfort, especially
if there is something to gossip about

There may be more
than admiration, entertainment
conveniences and wealth, but
that doesn't buy me anything

Certainly not happiness
if one is not as rich
as the Stars are
made by us

Other people's wind blows
along your house and my house
with old songs that we hum
when sweeping the floor

We look at Déjà vu
once more and we dance
in thoughts, in real life
we are off the map

My breath is precious, every minute
twelve times pain and misery
twelve times the gentle wind
that conforms, that snuggles up

against the busy people
as a knowledge that we exist --
a reaching embrace
with always thinner kisses

Okay, I did it, I had to drive
a smouldering stake in his eye
Screaming, he lashed out

and in the panic, he saw nothing
with his other eye either
That was it, a good story

which I loved to tell, but
apparently, it's not good enough
for today's sailors

who have seen skulls
in Mount Etna's caves
with a large hole in the middle

One-eyed giants died there
worthy of a hero
like me, they say

but I do know
that they were elephants
one-trunked four-footers

What is the matter with people
that they rather believe in fantasies
than in real, hard life?

The world keeps turning
no matter whether
we understand
that everything is
connected to us

I watch
from the scenery
gently strumming
tears on my guitar

The floor is dirty
There are no residents
Everyone is busy
with other things
and passes by love

I watch
from the scenery
gently strumming
tears on my guitar

There is silence in me
which is not there
in the middle of 50,000
Irish bees

who are a black cloak
around my pale skin
My body is their heart
It is beating faster

from their poison, I feel
connected, one
with life, one
with spring

the loud buzzing
of love here on earth
upon me
within me

There is a shortage of chairs
at the party by the river
where we celebrate our civilization
our definitions and good manners
of see, hear and speak no evil

Who still dares to stand up
now that winter is coming, to give
a warm hand, welcome, the party is over
long live life!

In the mirror of the bar little lights
are dancing colours around my face
I wash my hands of it
I'm not a little monkey that doesn't want to listen
feigning shame and laughing secretly

My hands must help and share
I want to take care of you, caress you
I want to experience together who we are
our definitions and good manners

I crossed this river
now I will

see other people again, love
again, get something done
if I can, fight if necessary

achieve new goals
celebrate other parties
and follow my own paths

But tomorrow or later
we'll come together again
by the fire of our friendship

smoldering
flaring up
unquenchable

Come underground, come undersea
Come, join us soon if you are free
everyone on board, everyone a cheer
there are no mosquitoes here

in the Sub Undersea
Join us, don't disagree
Here you're fine, we'll be together
here you can be friends forever

The skies ahead are heavenly
there is music, there is plenty
of everything, just avoid the virtues
the household and the clues

of life as long as we are in the flow
And afterwards, without the rainbow
there'll be the pleasure of floating around
a bit until we run aground

Come, none of us at all does mind
whether you are the diver's kind
because we're also friends ashore
Come, don't stand aside no more

With friends through a wormhole
from the magic tree to the cave
in the sea and across the threshold

into the arms of the octopus
protecting me under sea stars
with a sign on our foreheads

We share bread and water
sing and dance over corals
of friendship in the garden

decorated with cans and glass
along paths of silver scales
and shells with wonder shine

In the garden we are safe
from the lightning storms above us
on the sea, there is no struggle here

we share, sing and dance
in the hidden Garden of Friends
on the large bed of the sea

All interest unpredictably
distorts what I do
I have learned not to pay attention
It's just shadows

and the laws, certificates and
my prudence protect me
Honorary money and ingratitude
serve me right

It is not difficult
to believe in it
as long as the money rolls

from one hand in the other
like a snowball
getting bigger
from the little pushes I give

knowing that it will melt
as soon as it comes to stop
and then ultimately will
leave nothing usable

If only we were invisible
free from obligations
not in this glass house

I miss people
who care about me, mama
like you, mama, you

     When I get out of here
     I don't need anything
     but friends around me

The contracts have been signed
they shattered the glass
and the sun shines on us again

Yet we run off
we are free and run away
from greed and applause

     Now that we have escaped
     we don't need anything
     but friends around us

Dad doesn't get off my back
since I left home
He is angry

about my friends
and takes things from me
Home invasion

The police are trying
to appease it, I have to beg
for help, protection

His honour is at stake
He wants to restore
my virginity or lock me up

He can't go back and not ahead
he prefers to suffocate
in his lied right

instead of fully growing up
and rejoicing
in his family's prosperity