Poems

Verse

Be without guilt and without harm

It sputters the machine gun so much that it is broken by its sound.

You could see the end coming. That's how it can go from time to time.

Lucky you! - Some find being killed dreary.

Meanwhile, it was the sparks that gave this work its own life.

A calmness has been healing the gentle man for quite some time. Since it lasts, does not lead to quarrel.

Poem

The world in the mirror of time

Some gauge has the water level to own,

meanwhile, not everything has been in the water.

No, some of it was much more likely to be in the booze.

Bold have been the words of the people,

when, coming out of the pub, they took to the ink.

Alcoholism and a resulting damage

have brought it to us.

Nowadays, the dark is no longer only in the night.

No, some madness has spread among us.

Since all the many varieties of the retorts of these clones have

nothing else to own,

than to show others their undoing without strength and good juice.

This is how the mirror touched the world.

Some things he touched on very strongly.

He literally smashed it.

To these days of a luckless search for the right thing

the imperious swallowers succeed,

to highlight some things that have not been good.

Without rhyme, the poet of the unhonored becomes the destroyer.

There he soaks his body well,

the alcohol in the blood shall now be the last thing to do.

This gets to the heart of the matter.

This is how he slurs the words.

World and mirror, these are his places.

Poem

Outcrop

A word for the Lord

I like to keep.

This is how I received something.

Let my mind grow cold,

so that it does not bloom too early.

A deed for the Lord,

which I will carry out soon.

For this I have kept my courage.

I do not want to have been heated,

nor do I want to have everything spoiled.

The pause

shall be my motive

for a good way.

It didn't happen much for me,

what stands in the way.

Poem

Harmless mess

With tongues of angels like no other

are you no longer reachable?

What were you thinking?

It is dark in the night,

but the moon appears bright to us.

You all already know that well.

That's the truth, isn't it?

Quiet it is still, the own blood.

However, the voice is quickly raised against it,

Sparks that now just reach the sky above

soon disappeared.

Meanwhile, a funeral pyre is already piled up.

Who will you buy next?

Poem

Angelus

In abundance, man experiences some trepidation.

Should he put up with it?

He feels his spiritual constriction

and changes his behavior.

He must have been guided by an angel.

He has renounced his happiness.

He felt that way about himself

and thus Fortuna pledged.

With that, he complied.

One thing of value he did.

He has not broken with himself there

and so he accepts it,

that his lust alone has been only greed.

Actually, he realizes that.

He does not want their baser qualities

and so he makes something real.

Then he left everything as it was,

has gone and disappeared.

They even let him.

In the process, he found himself.

Poem

Goodbye!

Where I am, I can create something.

But I could not define it according to its essence,

what is supposed to happen there with me,

as long as it has not yet arisen.

I held back on that one,

shift my thoughts first.

I have been full of joys

as long as they have appeared.

Trist is all things sad child,

one merely accepts it as God-given,

without feeling anything yourself

or to move in any other way.

Then it can hardly touch us.

With such a dominant mischief

of a man all the splendor of the world grows cold.

He is sometimes alone more about a money.

The validity has given man such honor,

from it he draws his strength.

Did he not receive it for himself,

he might soon not think much of himself.

That's why I sit there while my eyes flash.

In the middle of my room I start to sweat.

I don't want to make any jokes,

I hardly have a reason to own to laugh rightly.

Others have meant well with me

and the things of their spirit certainly corresponded.

They are united with their happiness

and yet have broken me.

Meanwhile, I experience no fascination with it,

i can by no means feast on it myself.

Nevertheless, I already admire it,

what others have gained for themselves in life,

But what I needed for me,

I should be allowed to do that.

I'm rarely too good for something good,

meanwhile I would like to deal with this

Such a thing is beautiful!

From this you can see,

which winds are blowing with me.

However, it is normal for them to pass away once.

Goodbye! - This is how I thought it

and this is how I would like to say it.

Once again it becomes night,

it shall then plague me again with my ideas.

Poem

Impulsive behavior

Unadorned and without ornament

I would like to take the burden of man

understand for me,

acknowledge and move on.

It all affects me so much too,

I do not have any traffic with it.

It was none of my business.

Clouds hanging above.

Sunshine and all the hustle and bustle,

I don't want to take it in.

There I go further, step by step.

Stop with me, take me with you.

Poem

The squirrel

What I have not received for myself, I have at times missed very much.

But where should it come from when you keep so little to yourself?

Those who have shared everything with others have only half as much of it.

Someone cries out because he sees his need and makes a roar.

You have to digest something like that first. I have nothing to own,

of what he wants from me. What should show up now?

What I haven't received yet, I'll get soon.

There I am like a rodent. That's how I mature, that's how I grow old.

Poem

A master of his own

Man, be mindful.

Dark it has been to many a night.

Hold out a little light for you,

set it up at the door and gate.

Give a friendly welcome to your neighbor,

Your peace remains undisturbed.

Control your lifetime wisely,

always be ready for the good.

At home and in your own country,

you are by no means known to other people.

No reputation precedes you there.

You rarely go out alone.

There you can see your worry lines.

Man, something you should also receive for yourself.

The reward after long, laborious striving

is a crooked hump and nothing else just.

This is how it has now turned out,

what happens in the life of you.

Once you have accepted it,

then this is how it should be.

Poem

A summation

The reproduction of his thoughts

sets certain barriers for the human being.

This imposes many a chain on him.

His thoughts were sick.

His spirit is gone, he is often misunderstood,

you think he's always on something.

What has been addressed has nevertheless not moved anything.

It was a shadow that was cast over me.

So I swallowed a lot of it and stomped the actual with me.

No happiness of life has arisen in me, no, destiny has evaporated,

Nothing good has happened there yet.

No tear has moved, nothing has touched. Everything must pass that way.

With hope, I once made up my own life, even imagined it,

In the meantime, I was really put in jail, and also laughed at.

That's why I had to discard all of it.

My voice has died. No one wants to kiss me for it anymore.

Poem

Probation missing

All the best remains on his way,

but it can get lost.

A lot of things have been thought about,

to buy its soul.

You would like to increase the luck,

there you make it clear.

Something good should not refuse,

so it dwindles year by year.

To some extent we have already

for funny things.

With many a harsh tone,

we are overcome by misfortune in life.

You develop ideas galore,

what all needs to be better.

They all have a shot,

the shabby has a run at it.

Poem

Time that has not passed

Speaking all the many words,

oh wonder how you are so encouraged,

has cost many a person his head.

It is always meant sweetly and yet it appears rusty.

There is no leaf turning in the place.

Rusty is thereby all the love for eternity and always,

but in the meantime things are getting worse.

Little cheered up and hardly cheerful I lower my head now more than ever.

That's really bad.

Poem

Thank you

There should no longer be a right and a wrong.

We obviously have to swallow that.

It's being pressed into us.

In our throat we feel such a violent squeeze.

Everything with us must thus shift.

Once we have believed it,

even the last water becomes stale.

Then everything has not been fine.

We have been robbed.

Meanwhile, a rage boils our own blood.

This is the only destiny I can have,

it alone is good only to my detriment.

I am in a daze when I do this,

that's how the bad thing happened.

Trapped inside me is a pain.

My heart received it.