it’s just like that..

seems i’m damned to drink cold coffee,
as soon as it is in that cup,
HOT.. promising &

it is—forgotten
OLN &  i’m abroad…

…daughter joins for breakfast

“how’s your first week back in school again..?”
“well it’s my second… ”
“oh” (there was this business trip..)

i’m leaving in a hurry..blurrrrred
office world–
“you should wear your glasses..”
“hmm”…and during coffee break
we’re talking know,

we’re Europe but–
Switzerland is not – they’re democratic
and the french drink red wine..we go

Blocher, Sarkozy and Berlusconi,
coffee’s getting cold  & curly Matt
remarks that  – after all,
i don’t speak the local dialect..

back home, i follow
the adventure cake crumb trail,
& find my son, watching the Simpsons,
heavily denying his involvement
in anything related to that cake

i sigh – walk to the bathroom…think i should
relax but there’s this poem in my head–

so soakin’ wet & naked as a jaybird
i crawl to my computer–

and this is
where my husband finds me hours later..


that was yesterday…just a very average day in my life…ha..
over at dVerse, Gay is looking at Sestinas tonight…if you’re up for a form challenge, you should really check it out.. gates open 3 pm EST


sunshine flash

we share such things as salad, meat balls and
chick-yellow scrambled eggs, sitting in
the spring on wooden benches, inhaling

life smoldering fat as Cuban cigars,
roll it in our mouthes like russian Rs and
swallow greedily, moistened by german

beer and the rough music madness of a
Porsche nine eleven. I pick up the
vibrations, tame ’em with my tongue and let
them shake us to the brink of sunshine flash

this was last sunday in the black forest…family lunch and on the pic in the front is hubby with nephew..smiles



it’s one of those days
which feel as wrong as
brushing teeth left-handed or
playing well-known pieces
backwards on your sax

when you wish
you hadn’t exchanged
the warmth of your bed for a world,
demanding to be more alive
than dreams, you dreamt
a minute back

the earth shakes
at the wrong places,
the floods always drown
the wrong people
and listening to B. Marsalis makes me cry, so
where d’ya think you got lost?

somewhere amidst
those scattered coos
beyond the rearview mirror, you’re
glimpsing at the road, you travelled
and ahead is rain

you’re swearing,
ready to shoot this early morning mood
with all its steel-blanc desperation,
its ugliness and shameless spell but

your phone is tied to the ether,
keeps you confronted with a world,
you’re not one waveline with
which doesn’t care enough
and don’t deserve
being commented back

and in the shade,
you practise silly smiles
while lonely tumbling air waves
jaywalk tired streets

it’s OneShotWednesday again – hosted by american poet Adam Dustus this week – come, write a poem and join us or just enjoy to meet a group of amazingly talented people over there. Sign up opens at 5 pm EST

>@ the hairdresser

>both of us tired and
dizzy shadows fall slow
as sleepwalker, dissolving
gently on scattered haircut.
your first client, 6 a.m. was
a russian bride you couldn’t
understand while you weaved
her hair into marriage braids,
same time when I dealt biz with
japan; our sleep stored safe in
long sleeves while you cut and
our eyes, two pair of misty veil
as they cross paths in the mirror,
knowing, we’ll be home

>worker blues


A3, early morning,
mon to fri-day, same route,
eating miles,
we speed limits.
our shapes and restraints alike.

soaked with dark-gray tunes we drive &
act responsible.

deep wrinkles round tired eyes,
heads heavy with to-do’s,
the sun – left years ago.

our morning darkness has no
sparks and shades
as headlights cut the distance
radio humming.

and maybe all our music, all our sighs
would scribble history if played
high volume, same-time, open windows

but this, we never do,
muted sighing and hushed we play

our silence sprinkles cold on rough concrete,
paints asphalt wet & dark with worker blues

and prints lonely road marks on our deep blue,
ocean yearning souls

just about to leave for a business trip, so my commenting back will be delayed until thursday evening…

i’m linking up with One Stop Poetry – you should come and join us, meet some fantastic people over there and dive deep into poetry. Sign up opens today at 5 pm EST

>black socks

of a working week,
piled on
the bedroom floor
like artwork,
a tower of sweat,

profit or loss
& raw mornings,
scratching dark sky
growing moonwards

& somedays i dream
i’d buy the world
black wool
off-thread &

i unbalance my soul

& walk barefoot
for the rest of my days

give it a try and say it in 55 words.. i’m linking up with galen for 
g-man’s friday flash 55

>what it is – a rap collaboration with Immanuel


First poem i wrote in rap style and thought it would be nice to really have it rapped – so i asked Immanuel if he would do the vocals – he did – and an amazing job i think.  thanks again!

what it is

it’s this genuine life
that’s precious to me
liftin’ me high up in the air
and lets me dive into the sea

it’s your brush
paintin’ my future bright
makes my heart pace fast
stirrin’ my longing for the light

it’s a free flow fall
killin’ all the pain
quietenin’ these voices
drivin’ me insane

it’s jumping walls
bein’ real with you and me
lookin’ into your eyes
it’s my reflection i see

it’s got me letting go
no need to control
shed blood floods my sins
you makin’ me whole

it’s comin’ ya close
findin’ shelter from the rain
cuttin’ loose these bonds
and the freedom i claim

it’s got me letting go
no need to control
shed blood floods my sins
makin’ me
makin’ me whole
ya know?

linking up with One Shot Wednesday – join us, write a poem or just jump over to read others. Sign up opens today at 5 pm EST