All That Is Left.

That moment
when you realize

all you remember
is the way it ended

the thrill of the first kiss
that first hand on
your hip

replaced by

a goodbye kiss
and a shrug
between your house
and the stars.

Commune.

We wanted to
      smash the system
but ended up
      smashed
drowning in sips
     of sorrow
as revolutionary as
    a clean kitchen
with heavy hearts
    and averted eyes
renewing subscriptions
    for the cause

Morning

You wake up in
a stale room void of
 the smiles and cries that
lingered too long and left
 too soon.

Between empty bottles
and boiling coffee
you embrace the glaring
memories pounding in
your head.

You slowly return from
the depths of night and
 brace yourself for
another one.

Notebook

Engulfed by words
buried deep in my notebook.

Sweet noise on my
headphones disassembling
the world around me.

The only way
to deal with
reality
is to create anew
and pretend it is
your own,

You and Him.

You met
on a balcony
a quiet understanding
amidst rambunctious noise
scrubby skin on stubbly skin


You stayed
for the night
a shared moment
among raging hearts
empty cups and satisfied smiles.


You left
before daybreak
a restless head
in a waking city
returning and departing.

Outside a Kebap Shop.

The tomatoes looked
like February,
last remnants of
colors past.
Reflections of
glistening promises
in eyes so aware
of their emptiness.

Tuned.

I want to slip into
a song

cuddle up with
a melody

go to sleep with
a beat

and find comfort
note by note

and sing along
and sing
alone.

Word for
word

you realize
that

you will
never

write anything
good.

Soliloquy

Hold back the tears,
drop vs. drop.

Quench your thirst,
with memories
of silent woods
and solemn beaches
of first sips
and lingering laughs.

Let your chronicle
beat the chemistry.

Home.

Talking down a road,
I trip over vowls,
stumble over consonants,
step on words,
get stuck in phrases
- weak and volatile,
short and strong,
long and languid,
until I finally find a

poem.

Telecommunication.

Caught in the last shadow of the year
between tea cups and coffee pots,
empty wrappers and broken bottles,
that one melody in your ear,
you redial.

August.

Standing on sweating blacktop
quenching your thirst with memories
of running along shorelines,
of building castles
and drinking sandy 7 Up,
like you never tasted
anything so sweet.

Drop.

Between a drop
and a coffee pot
Between a drop
and a coffee pot
Between a drop
and a coffee pot
Between a drop
and a coffee pot
- lies good luck.

On a Balcony

When our feet rested on concrete balconies,
beer in hand, music in back,
sunset in front,
it wasn't easier.
It only felt that way.

Flatter!

I recently joined Flattr, the new social micropayment service. I think it's a great idea - it is more or less like buying someone you like a (very small) beer. I also added flattr buttons to this blog - not because I'm in it for the money, but because I want to spread the flattr, even in this teeny tiny blog of mine. So if you like what I'm doing and you dig the flattr idea - Cheers!
Oh, here is a little video on what flattr is:

Kids

Kids' chatter,
Kids' laughter,
Kids' life filling
every pore of the car,
then,
          they leave behind,
a vacuum of silence
for our thoughts.

"Anything that's funny indicates an emotion that's died"

Richard Hell: Basically I have one feeling ... the desire to get out of here. And any other feelings I have come from trying to analyze, you know, why I want to go away ... See, I always feel uncomfortable and I just want to .. walk out of the room. It's not going to any other place or any other sensation, or anything like that, it's just to get out of 'here.'  (read more)

Rush Hour Apparition

In a sea of gray
your effortless skirt
is only topped 
by the Divine Comedy
on your knees.

AURORA

She came dressed

as a lonely girl. 

Not easy; at ease

with herself

by herself

for herself, 

on her own feet, firmly

planted in the clouds.

She stripped, lonely

layer after lonely layer.

Bit by bit, piece by piece,

shell by shell.

Standing there, 

beaming, glowing,

radiating, silent, 

naked.

She moved, 

breathed, touched.

Starch sheets, cotton shirts,

warm wood;

shoulders, legs, hair

moist skin.

She stepped away, took

away her skin, 

gathered up her layers

and returned.

Jamie.

Another spoon of sugar,

another spoon of rice.

One more cup of this, 

one more glass of that.

Ounce for ounce 

and pound for 

pound -

Eat.  It helps.