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poems by mar shy sun

July 20, 2012

poems by non-existant – mar shy sun

 

friday the 13 th

i look at us

from the distance

of our minds

trough the well

of our fear and daring

i look deep

into the heart

of our body

at the shiny

inkling insides

of the transmitting radio

the monstrous veins

disappear into darkness

only to appear into another

constellation of our desire

to be one and round

as the pale cheek of the moon

above us

it’s night

it’s friday the 13 th

i’m flying home

from the land of the sun

i think of the morning

i think of the sun

it can’t be round –

too much light

i think of those who

praise the god

Sodomized Water

yet

and yet

it comes

towards

with covetous gulps

rounding me up

reminding me of

my thirst

for the chemically absent oxygen

for a godly sodomised soda

drink! drink boy!

this advertisement

for excited water!

Bird of Prey

what about violence?

 there is something didactic

about all this:

it smells hot

and slightly dirty

like a good pepperoni

my mouth tastes

the myth

of the fashion

in which we were

all born

forged in the stomach

of a bird of prey

yes!

free as a vulture

yes!

in its beak it delivered culture

all that was gratuitous

what does it do now?

well… now…

from the cavity in the cloud

it watches violence

being tamed

with a muzzle

by the charm

of technology

white crane

 very simply

without thinking twice

it grows out

from the white

smelly clove in the sky

tilting over

wobbling dangerously

like an oversized crane

don’t come near!

warning! construction!

it is my thought, buddy

my effort to skid

to dig you

to lift myself

to trap the now

how?

mow the how!

whatever we do

we do

we only try

to cover the now

in this dumb afternoon

 i have no inspiration

to write anything

of the sort

that has a meaning

it all seems rather mean

to the mentally challenged

the same goes for the meaningless

it’s simply less

everything else

though it sits

so still and poignant

within me

evades me

like a superstar

who escapes

the obnoxious fan

oh, well…

we would love…

but we can’t

challenge that!

Ich furchte mich so vor der Menschen Wort.

Sie sprechen alles so deutlich aus:

Und dieses heisst Hund und jenes heisst Haus,

und hier ist Beginn un das Ende ist dort.

Mich bangt auch ihr Sinn, ihr Spiel mit dem Spott,

sie wissen alles, was wird un war;

kein Berg ist ihnen mehr wunderbar;

ihr Garten un Gut grenzt grade an Gott.

Ich will immer warnen und wehren: Bleibt fern.

Die Dinge singen hor ich so gern.

Ihr ruhrt sie an: sie sind starr und stumm.

Ihr bringt mir alle die Dinge um.

Rainer Maria Rilke

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