A letter of resignation

I have no soul

No ounce of it in me

I follow the track

Of my destiny

The god or the male

Or the military

Cause it’s them, who lead the world for me

The path is clear

All I need is to submit

I have no soul

It was denied for me.

Tunnel

I started thinking that ‘love’ is evil

vengeful

it’s hate

it’s murderous

so I’ll forget this whole business

and go

to meet

Karakoram mountains instead

or something like that

for a while

before I get back to dreadful London

to deal with all this deathly business

of

flowers

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GARDENING

It was a bitter trial

I don’t know how many steps I still need to take to step out of the chaos

maybe the emptiness is good

without the witchcraft and darkness lurking

without anything particularly interesting

maybe the nenufares

in the barrel

are better

than all that

deadly

luxury

and the ambitions of the dead.

Cyborg’s afternoon

I am not interested in my own thoughts anymore

The Machine does it for me

I just lie there

contemplating these four flies at the ceiling

one of them is doing a peculiar quadrical dance

fly’s quadrille

never seen anything like that before

not that I care about the flies

not that I care about anything

People!

Trying to press my head into my hands

to consolidate, to close the circle

to calm down those algorythms

Mother

she is there too, in my head

and my lover Judas with Jezebel.

Lilith or Lucifer rising

Still nothing about love, Virgin

just spikes and shiny steel

no dead people rising

no kisses

no warm

schizophrenic galaxy

boredom

lucifer is encircling me two days in a row

this week

it is stifling

lucifer on monday

another on tuesday

hope there will be rain

on wednesday

or at least

a rose, with spikes made of her

anger

there is no love in your galaxy,

virgin

expensive diamond skulls

jewellery

I have lost the meaning of waiting

for your sign

I’m lost

and buried

deep deep down

in a darkly underground

Just a normal Monday, as usual

While my hubby is building his AI Machine

in his green headquarters

downstairs

and the war is raging from left and right and the underground

I’m not really sure what to do with myself

It’s shiny-raining

and the lightness of nothingness

bothers me slightly

I am descending into a dark adventure

in my mind

conquering the evil turtle

in the cinema

while the horse is drowning

in the mud

the life is over, Ahriman

This state is deep like a well

This state is deep like a well
long like an underground tunnel

going back in time

decades, centuries

it’s not my fault

not my creation

it’s there

it’s a historical malady
nothing to do with me

I’m just a medium

in my head

decoding it

cleaning my books

the library

magical escape

it’s always a good potion

through the garden of insanity
full of roses
painted blue
it’s dark in the frozen castle

I want to be outside

in the red rose garden
in the sun with
me
a teenager

red hair
white skirt
that’s the real me
in my head

before the darkness engulfed

put everything into the grave

with a cross
on it
how deadly
I don’t want to be the black raven
I don’t want to see the pit
smell the myrrh
please, take it away from me

His Hero’s journey – Poem nr. Jan.9

His hero’s journey

what a nonsense but wait –

So he actually believes that he is not just a big (vast) emptiness?

He actually sees something when he closes his eyes?

Not darkness to escape from?

Well, that’s actually refreshing (to be honest)

after those endless years of Nietzsche

and abortion gangs

(I’m really terribly sorry to say that).

 

something new –

like an addiction

like fresh grass

like summer

like horseback riding.