I can’t speak a word with you
because I know you see right through.
That is why for some assistance
this poem is brought into existence.

The lines I am trying to compose
could never even get quite close.
And with every word that’s being add
what is written sounds like someone’s mad.

It’s the hardest topic to address
My devotion to you is so hard to express.
The pile of verses in my head -
anything that could be said,
I could write a whole essay
which would only push you further away.
(weiterlesen …)

As many of us do at some point of their lives I recently thought about why we die. I will not argue that human death is caused by the deterioration of the cells in our bodies. However you might want to ask yourself why cells behave this way. There is just no logic behind this. If the human body can grow to its full size then it should be capable of reproducing healthy cells when the height of growth is reached. The facts that we get old and die are proof that there must be a reason. Although not scientific, this is my poetic way of saying we have to die sooner or later:

Born as giants
stuffed with soul and heart.
Every day alive
tears it apart.
If you put your heart and love
into some things that you do
you lose tiny bits of soul
even if the rewards seem few.
Although souls regrow over time
never reach their former magnitude
which leads one to conclude:
Souls are fading over time
but all the tiny bits we give
are moments we like to relive.
They bring happiness to -
and all around us.
Though we can’t live
without our souls and thus,
leave the world
as empty shells -
just a bunch of body cells.
Given every bit away
but – believe me –
it’s okay!

(The title can be seen as a tribute to Supertramp)

Isn’t it funny how everyone believes to be different from everybody else. Of course nobody is like anyone else – are they?
Actually we’re not so different at all.

We walk on two feet, we speak using a mouth, we act using two hands.

Not only do we look equally in shape and proportion, are more or less equally beautiful in our own ways – but our head works by the same principles and protocols.
We want to live – well most of us do – some will say they don’t want to, but still they breathe, still their hearts beat.

We touch and feel with five fingers each hand, we hear with our ears and see with our own two eyes.

We yearn for protection and we ache for some love. And though the tastes may vary, still the desire is the same.
Now you’d say you’re different or more diverse from them but don’t we have in common that we aspire to be unique?

To mend the wounds in this world
is why I’ve been called to this dark place.
Curing peoples hearts and souls
and restore their will to live
give them hope
and reason to go on.
To show them the beauty of live is my fate,
Being able to rescue you from your hell is my faith.
But if I am this healer
then why does it hurt so much.
Why is it that I can heal others
but not myself.

never again my beloved witch
i can see right through you
though it took a while.
all the mess you created
is cleaned up and sealed forever.
now and then
not together
- everybody for himself -
and separated for good.
magic sparks that seemed to fly
illusions altogether.
what you took and what you gained
suits your greedy wicked mind.
my loss is you – but you lost me
no hope for you – no destiny
The bond is gone
i can be free
to live a live and see
the real you through your cover.