old poems II

November 14, 2006 at 12:48 pm (poem)

Those two were done on 8.October.2006

Argument’s over
the table’s cleared
gone but forgotten’s all the shoutin’
staring and explaining
bellowing and disagreeing
everything just cleared away
a ctrl+a and ctrl-x
but something always remains
the topic
the conclusion
the rage
the difference
between you and me
the acceptance
and the denial
and all around us
the reason
the war
the murders
the rapes
the crimes
the lies
and we both know the truth
about men
and yet
you appear to be certain
solid like a rock
shaken but not cracked
in no fear of death
but dreading words –
no matter
because what remains in the end
is no reason, no plan
no excuse and no sentence
just the rotting mass
of all the people killed
and whoever ordered it
whoever provoked it
the people on top
or the masses below
the are gnawing at their throphys
feeling pround
being pitifull heroes of no saga
and next to the bodies
the undecided
the cut-outs
the traitors and cowards
in other words
you and me.

They sang about somevery strange things
‘the golden heart and the rebel fist’
and about to draw a line
before the end
the own end
before suicide
and they said
that even though you heroes passed away
by their own hand and work
you should’t
but can anyone deny
without apparently lying
a strange fascination towards death?
But I’m just afraid
of the ultimate ending
because eveything I define
the world through my mind
and the question I can’t sort out
make’s me afraid
and there’s nothing more unsolvable
than death
and the shallow glory afterwards
the slickness of a grave
and the silence if the angels refuse
to turn up and carry you to heaven
and there’s more
not simply the emaning for life
but other things
like why people kill
why people hate
and why people love
why does an atom refuse to die
why can’t I feel my thoughts
why do i love her right now
and why is my heart so hurt
the questions just pile up
and what remains is
a frighend soul
a wounded child
and the singing of the rain


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