30 Januar, 2008

auf der suche nach der stehengebliebenen zeit

petra und ich waren heute morgen unterwegs, auf dem gleisdreieck. ein stück land, ÜBER das schon erik schmitt einen wunderbaren streifen selbigen namens drehte, und AUF dem sowohl jim rakete tom tykwer als auch michael laux farin urlaub auf verschiedene zelluloids bannten. petra und ich waren auf der suche nach einem zeitstau, der sich auf dem gleisdreieck und in einigen das gelände umgebenden straßen entdecken lässt. die blaue stunde - ein mythos, so rätselhaft wie der stau der zeit - schien uns angemessen, unseren wissensdurst in tiefstes aquamarin zu baden. leider wollte die blaue stunde heute grau sein und die zeitknoten schliefen auch noch tief und fest. petra und ich entschlossen uns, beide erneut (beim anbruch einer baldigen dämmerung) zu suchen.

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28 Januar, 2008

part 5 - diesmal mit tiefsinn

wenn der stil keine blüten treibt,
und die liebe nicht ewig bleibt,
wenn die bildzeitung lyrik schreibt,
und der winter die sonn' vertreibt,
wenn auf skype niemand mit dir skypet,
und dein arzt dir morphin verschreibt,

dann wach auf, kind! werd munter,
die welt geht nicht unter!

sieh, wie die henne geköpft übers pflaster rennt,
und der taube den brummbass als ton erkennt,
das fließen der zeit dich liebkost, behend,
und die sehnsucht nach weichheit dich nicht verbrennt.
denn so wie der mensch sich zu sich bekennt,
wird die ros' rot erblühen, lieblich am end'.
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27 Januar, 2008

gertrude stein once said...

...that roses are roses, just that.
no more, no less
no doubt, no guess-
telling the truth, she chose
to say that a rose is a rose.

(part 4 of 12)
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25 Januar, 2008

nightingale vs animaldelmar - part 1 of 12

a girl named inga challenged me,
to a contest of merciless bloggery.

roses, beheaded, shall be the themes
of twelve bright and glittery poetry schemes.

now, what can i say? and what can i write
about roses that tend to look quite shite

with their heads not in place
and their stems without face?

cool down thy blood, forget that feud,
cut not that rose, be well astute.

'cause hearken, nightingale, my dove:
not hate will rule the world but love.

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02 Januar, 2008

dreams are my reality

your first task: think of all the songs that you know that have the word "dream" in them. rest assured: you will gather in your mind the most exciting array of tasteless music!

your second task: follow me again. i dreamt something wonderful tonight. imagine an old wooden barn, on a field in america. it's old and big and has this sloping roof and it stands there, in silent solitude. now - trick of your imagination - try to mentally expand its size in your head. think of the size of an airplane hangar. yes? good. now, re-situate the expanded barn in a town like... like, maybe... something medieval... edinburgh? yes. try edinburgh. okay.

now you have a huge barn, surrounded by grey steep houses, maybe a cottage here and there (?) and there you are. the tapestry of my dream. green hills, rain, some trees somewhere. almost dark outside. i/you walk along the street, we see the barn and we feel intimidated by its size. there is something wrong with this huge barn, here on this street in edinburgh. we knock on the door. a beautiful lady answers, she has curly hair and has obviously been cooking something as she's wiping her hands on her old-fashioned apron. i enter, you are right behind me. what we want is unclear but we do NOT feel well inside the barn. it turns out, too, that the barn really isn't a barn once you enter it. part of the inside is a house and the other part, which opens into the wide open space under the barn's roof is... a ship. yes. polished wood everywhere, copper railings, wooden floors. and above the ship, hanging from the barn's ceiling, there are a large number of life boats, in all sizes, colours and shapes.

i wish to think that this image relates to geoffrey chaucer's "the miller's tale" in which an old and ugly carpenter is tricked by his wife and her young lover. the two of them want to spend the night together and "convince the carpenter that a flood of Biblical proportions is imminent. Their safety depends, on waiting overnight in separate tubs suspended from the (house's) rafters, and to cut their tubs from the roof when the water has risen. This comic prank allows Nicholas and Alison the opportunity to sneak down, after the landlord falls asleep, and make love." (Wikipedia).

back to the dream: when entering the ship's deck i notice that the lady of the house has disappeared, you, my company are also gone. instead, a number of kids are now showing me around the house. all of them seem perfect. their eyes are brilliant, every curl on their head round as a shining sun. there is something steely about them, something inhuman. their dad is standing on a landing further down in this strange architectural ship-terrace and he, too, seems to be made from material of a different kind. i notice that they treat each other with exceeding violence. not only psychologically speaking, i observe the children slapping and kicking their parents or their siblings. in one case, they throw a baby against a wall. they don't approach me yet, but eye me with curiosity and malice.

i understand that their form of violence is something they neither feel nor dislike, it is an alternative way of living for them. the baby didn't cry when it hit the wall - it really didn't mind. for this family, violence means nothing. it is only the opposite of love. as they don't feel love or pain and they don't fear a kiss or a slash, they are as free as birds. in my dream, i was scared as shit and i thought i would surely die soon. i thought about this apparent lack of the boundaries of what's right. who makes the rules, i thought, when the values mean nil. and who follows them if that doesn't make sense?

the dream ended there, my alarm clock rang. of course, it's not me who made up these thoughts but juli zeh. and probably someone who once told me his only fear were child soldiers in africa, as their actions tend to be unpredictable due to the lifelong and extraordinarily violent abuse they have to suffer. and a distinct lack of love.
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