Waiting for Godot

I have no idea why I am still awake
as the night dance away.
I have no idea why I am feeling the necessity
to feel hurt when being treated second best.
I have no idea why love always has the first place
in my simple life.

The world is a heap of complexities which perplexes me.

The last one

The spare heart I still had in my wooden chest is out. Without knowing how and when I am already using it and depending my life on its every beat. I guess I wasn´t really ready to wither and fade away.

A delirious delight is what I am feeling at the moment. I don´t know for how long I can use this new heart, that was captivated in a dark box. And the last time I checked, I only had this last one I am now using.

I thought the earth were my mother. I thought she would never had conjured up the seven headed dragon to devour me. But my mother was not the Gaia I thought she was. Underneath she was the Medea I long feared.

My eerie soul is lingering on the quiet desert, searching for some kind of an oasis, where I can find some spells to lead my savior to come to me and bring me back to life.

After New Moon

To love,

I can feel now that I am human. I can see my breathing in the air. I can feel my bones crackling under my skin. I can hear my muscles wrigling together; in my fragile being. I don't mind if I have to feel your pains because you also offer me life. And you, love, you make me realize that I am mortal.

Time passes by without you beside me. Every single tick of the clock is the sharp blade that is wounding me. My blood is the sadness that is pouring out, draining me. And I just sit here on my window, looking into the emptiness of your traces as the seasons change.

Please come back to me, or let me run to you.

Yours always.

Reality Check

I've never seen myself as a nice person. I smudge and crack any mirror I look in. So why can someone from my far away past tell me that I was the opposite of blackness? Has she met another me? Or is she just telling me her self-made-me-memory?

Her words take me gliding on flowery hills for a second. But then I see my image smudging a standing mirror again.

Baby Blues

Look
up there in the indigo sky
hold up
your hands
because one of those
thousand storks
has what your heart
has been yearning for
Look
up there in the sky
it's raining babies
in every hue
One
is coming into your arms
an indigo baby
falls from the indigo sky

Mother, cover him
with your rainbow love!

The Smith of Night

No I can't close my eyes still. All my senses are quenching their thirst of far away land and never ending romance. My veins absorb every melody of every song I hear tonight; weaving my dreams out of those melodies. But I lost my only coin as I lean over the fountain to look inside and try to find out my luck. So now I continue my journey to the far away land where stories of romance will never end; without knowing whether I will eventually be there.

Treacherous Rain

They say the rain can ease the wrath of the hot sun, can heave the heavy burden of the black clouds. The say the pouring water from the sky can bring life to earth, can make the seeds succumb to the temptation of growing out of their shells and face up the outside world jubilantly filled with new born hope.

I have always loved that falling water. I have always eagerly sipped the scents of the wet earth, inhaled the tastes of the humid air and blended them together into my own dancing cup of tea. But lo, now that I am all soaking wet. I am shaking inside out hating the chirping of the laughing birds. I didn't recognise this feeling; never acquainted this rage. What has gotten into me? Am I not the child of Gaia anymore? Has she abandonned me? Or have I drifted too far away from her comforting bossom, have too much of the poisonous but decievingly inviting ambrosia?

The sky is light blue once again. The black from the clouds has turned into white once more. I lay flat on the ground. Beside me is a young plant singing its thankful chants to the sky. I just look straight up to the atmosphere

Faces

Am I being ungrateful?
Staring at those faces on TV. I just feel like I want to absorb every detail, hoping they would somehow occur to me. Why is fate keeping me unattended? It's like I have to spend my life writhing and wriggling my phantasies just to abstract some kind of blotched self carved home made reality. I guess I just have to keep on watching the damn TV, because on the back of my head I know that fate is giving me the finger.
But does that make me ungrateful for wanting an alternate pink wallpaper for my wall?

To Nowhere

Wishful thinking is something I can do exceptionally good because it's the thread that ties my tears from falling and my fear from rampaging. Wishful thinking is the contemplation of what my soul calls divine. With this chariot I am going away gradually.

A Welcome Song

I reached down inside my husk of heart triying to feel that little bits of colorful stones. They crept in without me expecting of their advance, like a growing rose bush in summer; with thorns just to protect me from the vicious world. Slowly but constantly they grow into me blooming their soothing, hilarious, colorful scented blossoms. The knowledge of having them inside grants me the good feeling of hope: Of hope that my core would somehow someday no longer a weary husk.

I welcome you inside my little motley stones.... help me splash my little world with brighter hues.

Words can not portray the thousands corridors of my feelings. I told myself not to go back to the place anymore, but my feet rebell against my warnings. My mind drifts alone to the spots of recent past and wishful future without me noticing; leaving my body lying soulless on the ground. And when I am there to the full and entire extent, I am always greedily devouring every detail I can catch; celebrating every step, breath, heartbeat. I can not resist to play. Everytime it pleasantly abstracts me from my immediate reality.

I have trespassed the sphere of the goddess of the hunt and enjoyed the accompany of her deer. She is coming to hunt me down and expel me out of her land.

-

I have lived for today. I saved so many diamonds and pearls just for this very day. I have dreamt of today. I fastened my fairy tales with my most fanciful stitches. I have lived for this withered day and I ended it laughing at my murdered expectations.

Look at her swaying her hands towards the sky. Drooling looking at the first prize over the clouds stomping her feet like an undernourished horse I once saw on the street. Is she a disgrace to our kind? Or are we all capable of being that way in exasperation? But mother, she disgusts me.

Princess, why are you still weeping beside the pond? You won't get your golden ball back, if you don't go for it yourself. Never should you ponder to let a green slimy frog to help you. It doesn't really matter if it is actually an enchanted prince from a far away land. A frog is still going to be a frog and it is better for you to be able to stand on your own feet for the first time. Shake the trees and let your dress rip and your blood trickle out of your cuts. Trust me, Princess. In the end you will be a strong queen.

February Goodbyes

Floating over the ensheathed city I am looking for a little island to rest my wings. I was looking for the little tree, that once hugged my worries away. I was searching for the spring breeze, which had thrust my rocking boat gently through the storm. Their traces have faded before I could recount all of our reminiscences.
This blinded city of the south is deserted.

I am missing you.

My little hugging tree, gentle spring breeze, elfish sensible muse, purifying crystal water, pampering looking glass, smooth seashell, warming quartz sand.

hurting

As always, it's starting to hurt and there is nothing I can do to stop it. Dreams are not reality but I tend to tread on my dreams and hang on to the soft mist of the fantasy. Even when it is starting to hurt and I am forced to bruise myself because of the daily fall into the harsh concrete of reality; I am still coming back to that place. Over and over again.

At the Borderline

Like a chocolate fountain, melting caramel on a hot plate and a river of honey. Sweetness bursts into me without any halt; pulling the sides of my cheeks upwards.

I wonder if it is right to betray yourself and enjoy the exciting ride and perhaps take another daring one?

happy valentine

"So much for dreaming the man of my dreams!" She said that repeatedly with watery eyes. I looked at her hollow face. People told me how beautiful she was, how her light could brought morning dews glisten like droplets of the most exotic jewels. Now I can not even seem to trace the residue of her bedazzling characters; as if she had forsaken them somewhere amidst her rigorous sorrow."Perhaps it would've been better, if I hadn't found him." And she closed her door.

The Explorer

I am back to where I used to be. I should have known, I can not go too far. My rope is not long enough.
Perhaps, if I ask nicely for a longer one....

Salma

The muse chattered in my dim lit room last night
Her glowing long gown was a colorful shade of white
She chattered her songs with her silky voice
I looked in awe as she smiled at me
saying, "Be kind to yourself, dear."

In my dim lit room she danced around
sprinkling her golden dust into every corner
Her laughter chimed indistinctly inside my ears
Glowing colorful shade of white and gold dust filled every vacant hole

The muse chattered as I listened in awe
"Be kind to yourself, dear.
For I will not always be near."
In my dim lit room I heard her silky voice

Salma

Hail to the guardian of the tower of the south,
I invoke thee!
Come and take over this dried field of mine!
Resurrect thy power from within the soil I stand upon
for here I am bended and broken down
bleeding out my residue of love, passion, affection!

Hail to the guardian of the tower of the south,
I invoke thee!
For my fortress is no longer strong holding
the downpour of the molten red lava from my eyes.
This worn out heart can't save herself anymore,
soar right away into me!
Redeem me once again!
Reborn me!

worries

I'm back to where I used to be and am even going on further into this dark pit. I know what kind of torment is waiting for me there. But I am going on further still. I put my self at stake again just to find out, that it will never ever going to get better between us. Perhaps it is better for some time, but I know for sure, that I will have to rip my guts out all over again....just to create a distraction for myself and thus ease the heartache. I know I have to install my shield again and go away as far as the wind can take me, or that time will come.

my wreckage ship; one

It’s naturally not easy to find yourself down in the dumps. Especially if you know that there is not a big chance for you to crawl back up to where you used to stand. People say, if you want to make a change of your situation, you should just stand up and do it. They say it’s the problem of your mind. However, sometimes I find it more comfortable to stay here in my dumps after you just got punched a few times in your face. People are keep on crying out: “Go ahead and save your soul!” But they just don’t know and don’t care. What if I don’t want to be saved anymore? I am just tired of being accused of things I am not responsible of, or being told to do things I really don’t want to do, or to get stapled with packages of disappointments. So I would just sit here in my dumps and enjoy the process of my fading out. No one would ever notice, anyway.

"you might call him dull, but he smiled whenever he saw me and we could have built a life on it." an excerpt from the movie "Miss Pettigrew Lives For a Day".

A Schizophrenic State

Can someone tell me where my fairies go? I was so busy coping with life it didn't dawn on me instantly. The clamors of the city dimmed the tiny voices of my fairies. It was like being struck by a colossal lightning: I was finally aware of their absence. Where did they go? I used to have them with me all the time. They used to talk to me, encourage me, comfort me, accompany me. But now there is not a single trace of them and strangely, I can only vaguely recollect their faces. I swear they were there all the time. I could swear that.. Perhaps...

Where do my fairies go?

Trapped

Life can really get on your nerves sometimes. And when it does, you just want to bury your head deep in the sand, so that you won't have to get acquainted with all the ugly winged wearies from the pandora box. Just when you think all is going on well, you realize you're standing on a quicksand because you were too overwhelmed by your success. without compromise are you sinking into the sand. You just wanted to bury your head, but now you get the whole bonus treatment. All those success can't give you a hand and help you out. You end up alone being depressed and thinking how it's all gone wrong, collecting milestones of memories you piled on the corner trying to figure out why it went wrong. Perhaps you should let it all go. No more fights. Just let everything go and accept your situation whilst wondering why that stupid woman opened the forbidden chest on the first place.

A Plea

Spin your viscous web around me, so I can't see the outside world anymore. I want to stay inside your cage, just to make sure that I won't hurt myself anymore. I prefer to be blind than seeing how they wipe my memories away. I prefer to be deaf than hearing how they loathe my ways. I am one lonely dot amidst triangles; and no triangle likes a dot. So please take me in your asylum; spin your viscous web around me.

How Old is He Now?

The Fitting

Am I wrong to fit the world to my needs, so I wouldn't lose hope and just crow my fears in the most silent way? Eventhough I have never seen magic before nor felt its silvery clink, I am thrilled everytime knowing its thick existence in the world I have created for my own sake. A playful world filled with colorful magic creatures, sunlight, moonbeam, and tiny twinkling stars: all together at once, waiting for their turn to soothe and protect me from weariness and ailments. I can always retreat and find refugee with my well-chosen friends in my well-designed world. Anything to protect my soul. I fear the day when I would be totally normal like any adult. I dread their inability to recognize the beauty of a dust, the sweetness of raindrops or the melody of a bumblebee. I am fitting the world to my needs: with my collections of enchanted lace and ribbons.

Excerpts from Indonesia II

Indonesische bzw. betawinesische Weisheiten:

Muttermilch ist scharf. Sie kann für den Säugling gefährlich sein.

Die möglichen schlechten Wirkungen von Muttermilch für Säuglilnge:
1. Wenn sie auf die Babyhaut tropft, kann sie Hautkrankheiten verursachen.
2. Wenn sie auf den Babypipimann tropft, kann die Muttermilch später Impotenz verursachen. Falls das passieren sollte, dann soll die Mutter den Penisschaft des Kranken mit ihrem Zehendaumen drücken.

Diese Weisheiten habe ich von einer alten betawinesischen Masseurin erzählt bekommen. Sie hat mir sogar als Beweis eine so ähnliche Geschichte von ihrem Nachbar verraten: In der ersten Nacht nachdem dieser Nachbar seine Frau geheiratet hatte, stellte er plötzlich fest, dass es mit ihm in seinem Hochzeitsbett überhaupt nicht gut klappte. Seine neugeheiratete Frau ging um einen Rat zu seiner Mutter, und die Mutter zu dieser Masseurin. Die Masseurin erkannte sofort diesen Zustand und die mögliche Ursache. Sie empfahl dieser traurigen Mutter, die obigen Prozeduren durchzuführen. Diese Mutter führte das bei ihrem Sohn wirklich aus und danach war er wieder gesund. Also, wenn es wirklich helfen kann, warum nicht?!?

[...]



Ikan Lele (Catfish/ der Wels) wird heute immer noch mit Menschensstuhl gefüttert. In Cabangbungin, Bekasi (3 Stunden Busfahrt von Jakarta) zum Beispiel habe ich es selbst gesehen, in einem langen Fluss, der mit vielen "Hubschraubern" beschmückt wird.



zu dem obigen Bild: so sieht ein typischer "Hubschrauber" aus.Aber unter diesem ist normalerweise ein Fluss oder ein See (mit vielen ikan lele!). Da freuen sich die ikan lele, wenn die Menschen zu diesem Klo gehen. Maaaahlzeeeiiiiit.....




Eine Zitat von masakmasak.blogspot.com:


"I had to satisfy my cravings for this - Pecel Lele which is essentially deep fried ikan keli (catfish). The fish was nice and crunchy that you could even eat the bones. Topped with the crunchy batter bits, I was happy reliving memories about this dish which I once ate at Jakarta."

Excerpts from Indonesia I

Jakarta, der 7. Tag/Samstag

Die Zeit bleibt stehen. Jede Ecke behält eine alte Erinnerung. Gleichzeitig sehe ich alles auch ganz anders. Ich sehe überall (ver)alte(te) Gesichter; Kinder, die ich überhaupt noch nie gesehen habe. Es ist, als ob ich eine Zeitreise gemacht hätte [...]

Unser Haus ist der absolute Kitsch, mit vielen blauen Wänden. Das erinnert mich an Schwimmbäder. Mein Papa hat 2 Schlafzimmer mit Klimaanlagen ausgerüstet, trotzdem ist es keine richtige Hilfe gegen das Kitschproblem. Vor dem Haus in unserem Garten wächst ein schöner Guava Baum mit lila Blumen. Der Baum streut seine Nadelförmige Blüte überall in unserem Vorgarten. Es ist eine sehr idyllische Szene, die ich sehr bewundere [...]

Unser Badezimmer ist etwas besonderes. Die zwei Badezimmer unten (ich schlafe zur Zeit in meinem alten Schlafzimmer in der ersten Etage) sind sehr schmutzig: mit von Dreck verdeckten Boden. In dem Bad im Wohnzimmer gibt es eine selbst gebastelte ziemlich lange Toilettenbürste (!!!). Mein Papa ist sehr stolz auf seine Werk, dass er die Bürste in eine Ecke des Bades gestellt hat: aber ohne Schüssel!!! Also: ein verdrecktes Bad mit einer nackten Toilettenbürste in der Ecke. Ich betrete dieses Bad nur, wenn ich überhaupt keine andere Wahl habe [...]

In a land where halal food is very important, (the government even built a tall building for a halal food institute) there is no guarantee that the food you eat is not poisonous. They are absolutely halal for sure, but no one has any idea if your food can kill you. I wonder what these people are thinking [...]

I miss him so very much. No, never I am going to stop falling in love with you.

shrive

Your mouth could be a vicious beast, which can rip off the heart out of any body, any thing. So think deeply, express yourself carefully.

Your tongue could be a very sharp sword, that can cut off the head of any body, any thing. So watch the way you talk.

Oh please forgive me for I have sinned.

The God of Small Things

At a flea market he lives, chatting with everyone, everything he meets. With his microscopic lenses he wanders registering the world in his head: composing words and frozen live scenes. When the rest of us is too busy with everything gigantic and big and enormous, he scavanges neglected details from every nooks and crannies, puts them carefully in his big box to enrich his collection: towers of keepsakes and memories.

At a flea market he lives, enjoying forever sun beamed out from the loud crowds in his surroundings. He counts all the clouds in the sky and seeks for the greenest tree over the hill everytime he looks out the window. He distinguishes different colors of droplets of rain and paints his own rainbow out of them.

You would, wouldn't you?

Go to the ocean without water
Bathe yourself in its fanciful vapor
So you wouldn't lose your winged wishes
In the jungle of ripened rice fields

Delusions could be your redeemers
So go dance with their golden mirage
Choose your own shade of colors
Use their emotions for your private collage

Under this ancient tree
I will wait patiently
For you to come to me
Then no more I will be lonely

haste

Here is everything still in chaos. I have to tidy them up bit by bit.
I have no idea what is taking me so long to finish this one single chore, but I still need time.

I often have bad dreams of being left alone, being the only one left when everyone has gone away. Then I would try to catch up in order to be with the others again; but I just can't. I would run as fast as I can, run and run and run, until I wake up with sweat on my forehead.

I am still tidying myself up. Rotten memories under my bed. Fear on the dark corners. Anger on the ceiling, low self-esteem on the walls. Traces from almost three decades of life time. I have to tidy myself up and throw all self-destroying things away.

I still need time and no one would wait.

The Holy Flame

The burning tire keeps on rolling; setting in-gasoline-immersed-waste in flame. Everyone cries their fear, anger and despair out loud. With tears on their eyes they stand still..and hate. All that was precious was burned down. Now hate is their only treasure, that would be kept carefully, polished shiny, bequeathed ceremoniously. Until someday they forget why they are doing what they are doing. "Our fathers' fathers have been doing it the whole time, so this is nothing but holy!"

I've been

I've been trying to understand how the world goes
I've been craving to comprehend why everything happens the way it is
Why do I have to feel all the woes
Why can't I just have my peace

Fiends wear masks of angels
Friends are just shadows in a foggy forest
I made acquaintance with those masks of angels
I bathed in the shadows of that foggy forest

Without the slightest doubt
with overall trust and no pout

No one ever bothered telling me
masks cover genuine faces
A rock can shadows never be
No one ever bothered showing me their paces

I've been waiting too long
for a simple answer
to end my confusion

Peace out!

So I found this particular text somewhere and since then on it has become my behavioral guidance to deal with other people.

"If someone hurts, betrays or break your heart, forgive them, for they have helped you learn about trust and the importance of being cautious to whom you open your eyes. If someone loves you, love them back unconditionally, not because they love you, but because they teach you to love and open your heart and eyes to things you would never seen or felt before.
Make every day count. Appreciate every moment and take from it every thing that you possibly can, for you may never be able to experience it again. Talk to people you have never talked to before, and listen to them. Let yourself fall in love. Break free and set your sights high. Hold your head up because you have every right to do so. Tell yourself that you are a great individual and believe in yourself, for if you don't, no one else will believe in you. You can make of your life anything you wish. Create your own life and then go out and live it."


Wow, it sounds great, isn't it?

I always feel like Mahatma Gandhi every time I read it, think of it, or practicing its wisdom. However it is not very easy to be so skinny and just eat the simplest food, wear the humblest clothes all the time. And it is especially not easy not to hit back if you are getting brutally slammed down. Don't you think?

Thanksgiving

Dear God, thank you for taking care of me all the way. Thank you for teaching me everything I need to know about this world. Though it can hurt so badly, it does make me wiser and broaden my horizon with every cut, every wound, every salt spread on it. And I fully realize that I am the master of my own lifeline. I will never condemn you, no matter how hard I have fallen. Dear God, thank you again for bringing me up into the person I am.
Thank you that I can always experience wonderful things that save me everytime from falling from grace. It was also you, who taught me how a single little act of thoughtfulness can brighten up my life in just a snap of fingers. I realize now I don't need any spell nor potions. My love, faith, family and friends are my magic. They keep my world intact. They are my fort to keep all harms away. Dear God, thank you for them and I pray that my magic will be forever strong.

toothbrushing is fun!

A Bond of Two Souls in Love between Thick Concrete Buildings

A text for my newly taken English class:

Marriage is still a very important issue for me. It’s not just an arrangement written on a sheet of paper like many of us nowadays think. For me it has big emotional and psychological values. Getting married means to make a commitment as a couple to cherish each other for the rest of our lives, and to be for each other in times of joy and trouble. It also means that we are doing everything with good intentions, and that we are not afraid of taking responsibilities for each other. It means that we want to have children and raise them together as a family. It means that we have chosen to love our partner for the rest of our lives. There won’t be a sentence like “I don’t love you anymore” or “I have lost my love for you”, because we both try to preserve and nourish our seeds of love in every moment we breathe. Marriage is more than just a piece of paper; it is a union, a bond of two souls in love.

It is a pity that this kind of thinking is no longer a modern opinion. People tend to get practical and forget how beautiful it is to live their romantic side. A marriage institution is becoming more a burden than a blessing, and a relationship means two people who like to be together because they are sexually attracted to each other. When the attraction and the fun are gone, and so is the relationship. No wonder it is more practical for them to move on and seek for new happiness with a new partner without the complexity of marriage. They can just leave everything behind and don’t need to take any responsibility for what they have caused in other people’s lives. Relationships are getting nomadic. People’s hearts are getting colder.

A marriage might have lost its importance in the hearts of many people, but I can still see a lot of individuals who still think conservatively. Not just heterosexuals but also homosexuals in their own ways. Many homosexuals also yearn to seal their love in front of everything which is holy for them or in front of everyone who is important for them. So in my opinion they are somehow still “old fashioned”. As long as there are still people out there who believe in the beauty of a marriage life, I still think that I shouldn’t lose faith on the warmth of this society.

My comment: a little bit cliché, don't you think?

annoying pop ups

To Trick Time

How time zaps with an incredible force. Like a hurricane, twirling and swirling rapidly, taking everything with it in every direction it wants to go. You just have to go whirling together under its compulsion. You have got no other choice. You can not just stay and sit watching the ongoing tumult. (Bless those buddhist monks for being able to part their souls from their bodies and to prove out Einstein's relativity theory!!! There is not a concept of time as an in-one-direction-flying-streaming object. TIMES are flying everywhere they like.
Buddhist monks are really the most ecologically friendly types that have ever set their tiny feets on earth. The reason is because of this thing they believe and brag to exist, the thing called reincarnation. It is all about recycling. If you can still use the departed soul, why dump it and create a new one? It is really a sick idea to be so extravagant. I think a God would not be such a wasteful guy. Nor girl.
Reincarnation also means, that you can live forever. So long as it takes. So long as this blue ball named earth still exists. Or maybe so long as that powerful Element sometimes called God still exists. What a wonderful thing to think of! Of course you also have to expect finding yourself as a worm after your death if you were not a good person in your first life. But hey, you get to live! Perhaps if you lead a life as a pious worm, then you would be able to be reborn as a human being again, and of course with a touch of luck, you could remember your past lives.
Almost perfect. It would be better if you could also be together again with the one you love. Oh eternal love! Perhaps if you love someone so very much, your soul would be so very strong to seek out your loved one and unite with him in your second life, or your third, or your thirty fifth. It depends on the strength of your love, perhaps. How should I know? I might have to go to Tibet and ask the buddhist monks there, before time(s) overrun(s) me.

Maybe you can think of something?

My Escape

to feel not good enough
to feel underestimated
to feel insecure
to feel inferior

I do not want

So I run beyond my boundaries to search for a new world, hoping to have a good luck and to be able to start a new life, where there are no such bearings, which I fear. So much.

And I have found my safe place, where everything is green and flowery and beautiful.

But now a shadow comes from my most frightened past. It capsules me in layers of its colorless fears. Then I realized: I have been fossillized. I am a crippled fetus crouching farther in a dark cave with no ray of light. I need to break through.

So I run and run and try to overrun that shadow and ignore all the screaming around me.

They won't get me, not again.

I do not want.

KultUhr

Was verstehst du unter dem Begriff Kultur? Heute habe ich ein Seminar besucht, in dem wir uns mit dem Kulturbegriff beschäftigt haben (eine ziemlich unwichtige Sache zu tun. Aber hey! wir leben doch in einer gedeihenden Gesellschaft, wo jeder seine Zeit mit überflüssigen Dingen totschlagen darf!!!). In den Zeiten der Griechen verstand man unter Kultur alles Edles, Schönes, und Wahres. In anderen Worten: Theater, Kunst (Bildhauerei), und Philosophie. Diesen klassischen, engen Begriff finden die Experten nicht mehr aktuell, denn heutzutage sollten die alltäglichen Kulturelementen mitreinbezogen werden, dh. Agrikultur, Erziehungssystem und so weiter und sofort.

Diesem erweiterten Sinnetwegen haben wir jetzt mehr Probleme, die eigentliche Bedeutung von Kultur zu definieren. Alltagskultur hat so viele Facetten, dass man keine Grenze mehr legen kann. Es ist schon klar, dass das, was in einer Gesellschaft schön, edel und wahr ist, ist nicht immer schön edel und wahr in einer anderen Gesellschaft, und dazu kommen noch diese alltägliche Gegenstände, und alltägliche Gegenstände stehen nicht immer unter einem positiven Schirm. Menschen in Deutschland bzw. Europa können die Ausübung von Zwangsheirat nicht akzeptieren, weil es gegen ihre Menschenrechtsverfassung ist, und deshalb nennen sie diese Sitte Unkultur oder sogar Barbarei. Umgekehrt können die Menschen in einigen Ländern das nicht akzeptieren, dass die Menschen in Europa Freudianer sind. Sie nennen das auch Unkultur und auch sogar Barbarei. Man streitet sich, ab wann man etwas als Kultur bezeichnen darf.

Meiner Meinung nach kann man das überhaupt nicht abgrenzen. Dieser Begriff ist sehr subjektiv. Sehr subjektiv wie die Geschmackssensoren auf deiner Zunge. In Indien ging eine brave Frau mit ins Feuer wo ihr toter Mann zum Verbrennen lag (ob diese Sitte heutzutage noch geführt wird?). In Papua, Indonesien, lässt eine Frau ihren Finger abhacken, jedesmal ein Familienmitglied stirbt (noch sehr aktuell bis heute). Sie halten diese Sitte für sehr normal und machen das freiwillig und sind sogar stolz darauf, dass sie das tun. Sie werden nicht zustimmen, wenn andere Leute aus anderen weit entfernten Ländern plötzlich zu ihnen kommen und erklären, dass das, was sie tun Barbareien oder Unkultur ist (das ist, wenn sie das verstehen was Unkultur oder Barbareien bedeutet; oder wenn die Experten sich Zeit nehmen, um ihnen diese schwierige Begriffe zu erläutern). Reibungen werden vorkommen, zunächst werden sie sich debattieren (vielleicht brauchen sie dafür auch Dolmetscher--Juchuu!! Noch eine Stelle für uns!), einer könnte außer sich vor Wut sein und schlägt einen Experten. Die Sache entwickelt sich so wie immer seit den Zeiten von Adam und Evas Kindern. Da haben wir einen "Clash of Civilizations", wie Samuel Huntington in seinem Kopfkissenbuch mal prophezeit hat.

Wer kann/darf die Grenzen zu dem Kulturbegriff legen? Unesco? Kulturexperten? Professuren? Soll vielleicht Kulturpolizei erschaffen werden? Soll Kultur stets etwas Positives bleiben? Was heißt positiv für welche Gesellschaft? Was ist eigentlich eine Gesellschaft? Na, hier haben wir noch mehr Themen zur Beschäftigung von Menschen in einem gedeihenden Land.

built-in illusions

I despise the way one searches for every possibility one can find if it doesn't work here then it would work there if it doesn't work there then maybe it would work somewhere. I hate the way one tells another how innocent one is although actually one has so many foul things in one's pocket and always ready to use anything required to achieve one's goal without concerning if it would hurt another and then still dare say that one is honest and respectful. I loathe the way one plays with another's feelings and emotions and gives another wrong (better) impression of the whole situation then lets the other think how great and how pretty everything is when everything is actually already out of control from the other side of the fence. I curse how one makes another so blind with the love one sells and make another willing to offer everything that comes to hand for that illusion one brought.

in trance

swing my hip with your gentle arms
trace my crystal sweat with your alluring fingers
embrace my curves with your airy being
move together with me in harmony
blast our passions into the sky
I'll taste your fiery dip in my mouth
stir your bowl into a hot ring
melt my tongue inside your joy

salsa me!!!

comprehension

rockaby baby on a tree top
when the wind blows
the cradle will rock
when the bough breaks
the cradle will fall
down come baby, cradle and all....

the world being introduced to a child

répondez s'il vous plaît

Together with my pillow
I have crossed the border of sanity
Way inside the world of my blanket
I have built a house out of tangled black threads
On the comforting island of my bed
I have raised a beautiful garden of weed

On and on with my tiger I stay on my boat
The sharks are playing merrily in the wave
Such a breath-taking sight to see!
What a paradise to be!

I have placed the no disturb sign on my door
So worry not, my love, the orgy can begin
Please have a seat and sip your drink
My flesh will be soon served too

Just beyond the border of sanity
in a house of tangled black threads
with a beautiful garden of weed
I invite you to come and enjoy my maze

My Needs

It bugs me so much
It trembles my rocks
It chokes me to death
It breaks my locks

I am broken in
I am exposed
naked burried in the
heap of rotten meat

Can you give me the clothes I need
Can you weed my garden tidy
Can you kill those nagging rats
Can you loosen up these tight ropes

I want to ram myself inside your bones
I have to drink your blood, breathe your breath

Resurrect me!
Glorify me!

Stepstones

What is it that bothers me?

Happiness goes in and out my soul the way she likes it.

What is it that bothers me?

past present continues future questions doubt.

What is it that bothers me?

What would it be like, if I blindfold myself?

Way to Perfection

Why can't you be more like that?
Why must you think this way?
Why can't you just be more tolerant?
Why can't you just change your way of thinking?

It is not me that you want
It is not me that you need

Because I can't be more different than that
I can't think this way
I can't be more tolerant than I am now
I can't change my way of thinking

questionmarks

why do I feel so bad
why do I feel so bad
why do I feel so bad
what is going on
what is wrong
who is wrong

Is this what I want
Is this what I think I want
Is this it

what is going on
what is wrong
who is wrong
why do I feel so bad
why do I feel so bad
why do I feel so bad

this afternoon

egoism egoist egocentric egotistic

I undergo hours of journeys just to be with you
I work overtime to afford more than just a weekend at your side
I am willing to spend the night at work just so I can stay a little bit longer in your arms
I told my friends that I want to concentrate myself to you
I; I; ME; ME; ME!
echo throughout the land

egoism egoist egocentric egotistic I AM

Swallowed Rage

Oh how I wish to wash away all of those conjuring thoughts full of thorns. Sometimes I believe that I am capable of crushing everything bit by bit into the smalest mollecule....

I do not know if I am really able to be that cruel. The thought is there, though.

Walk on by

Days are streams of consciousness, which mutilated into shreds and particles of juggled dreams. Months constitute of racings of blurred days; the fastness awes, the vastness crushes.

I am shoved through many mazes of woods, rivers, and streets. The flying smoke of the fox in the woods lulled me in my wooden cradle; blanketted my shivering core with its redwhite silken fur. I lingered into the river and was pushed by the slithering two headed serpent through the blazing water. Closing my eyes, I inhaled all the fluids and the ray of light into my lungs. At this moment I reached the mouths of the uncountable streets and begin my bewildered journey of trials and errors. I am still here.

Swaying in between

days are streams of consciousness, months constitute of racing blur

Divine Conversation

I want to pray again.
I want to face That Source of Energy with all my soul
I want to.., but I am afraid I am not entitled to,

with all the sins I have done and which I am going to do.

My Blessed Being

I am happy

Am I happy?

I think I am happy.
But if I am happy, why
am I questioning if I am really happy?
Or is it just a feeling of hesitation
which is covering my contentment?

I must be happy now.
It has supposed to be happiness.
It has got to be joy.
I did laugh
I did smile
laughing and smiling

I did

So if I have had all that, I guess I have achieved that exuberant state... Have I?

Pressure

Images

NICE WARMHEARTED bogus FUNNY INTELLIGENT INTERESTING PRETTY feigned SMELL GOOD EASY GOING PLEASING EARNEST illusory CLEVER EXPRESSIVE TALENTED false DILIGENT FUN AFFECTIONATE HONEST KIND SENSITIVE WISE sham MATURE LOVING :

The jewels shimmer most brightly in November.

Natzweiler-Struthof

Ghosts were everywhere there. It was cold and white. I could not trust even the land I stood upon. I could not find an unharmed road to walk on. It was a vast expanse of land, cultivated to satisfy the appetite of the strong. Every inch of the soil was spoiled by blood. The air is full of ferociousness; you can inhale cruelty. I could not stay too long. It was like being jammed inside a freezing, narrow box. You could not move; you just crouched there searching for some light, trying to breathe properly.

I saw them, piled on the snow; towering to the sky; as if trying to make a ladder to escape the electric fence and the maschine guns. A tower of cadavers 800 meters above the sea.

I saw them, hasting in a centrifugal motion leaving the chimney of fire. They did not want to stay there, neither did I. But I could walk out through the gate alive, most of them could not.

My Time Table

What does it like being 30?

As I was 6 I wanted to be 13
(they were so cool I wished to be in their gang in the junior high)

13. Pimple face, outsider, stork, too skinny; member in no gang.



As I was 13 I wanted to be 20
(my neighbor studied chinese literature and could speak the language perfectly...She's tall and pretty and smart, and she already had boobs!)

20. Still too skinny with zits here and there, lonesome, low self esteem; studied german literature, troubles with the grammar, the tallest of the whole school and whaddaya know... a pair of boobs!!



As I was 20 I wanted to be 16
(I wished to be 16 and careless and free!!)

As I was 24 I wanted to be at least 20
(Oh no, I see more wrinkles under my eyes!! Where can I find a good anti aging creme?)

This weekend I will be 26

I freak out

Ginger Milk

2 lt. Milk
300 gr. hoed Ginger
Palm sugar and/or normal sugar (as you like it)
Honey (if you want to)

Put everything in a pot and let it simmer!

Go to your library and choose one of your favorite books. make your bed ready. Read the book while sipping your ginger milk. Play your favorite music on the background. Look outside the window and be thankful because you are warm in your bed reading a good book and sipping the yummiest winter drink ever. The world outside can ravage with its coldness, for all you care!!!

Have a cozy evening!

Despair

Say you need me and I will come to you
Cry out you want me and I will run to you
Lie if you have to and I will believe your words trully

I will not question I will not doubt
I will be dumb I will be naive
If that is what I it takes for me to be in bliss again

Let me hear the soothing sentences
Let me swallow your make believe wholly
Let me praise your utopian existence

The tip of an iceberg is all I long for
Nothing deep nothing sincere
I will numb my sharp feelings

With all my heart I will accept
all these superficial escapes you offer

I will be dumb I will be naive
If that is what it takes for me to be in bliss once again

I Will

I have to wear my mask more often. If they like me better that way, I will. I am too hideous to bee seen, too grotesque to please them. I thought those times have passed by, when I had to wait behind the line and could watch everything from my dark corner. It was really wrong to allow myself to spoil my soul with these delusions. I have never been a beautiful swan. Once an ugly duckling I will stay being one. So I will soothe the world with my mask. I know where I belong, so I will face the sun with my covered face, so that the world could stay intact. The uglyness of me could horrify the calm blue sea and turn the peaceful waves into a fearful tsunami and kill so many innocence on earth. I mean no harm. So I will wear my mask more often. I will.

Living Out Dreams

Yesterday the thought came to me. Another relationship bit the dust; and the thought came to me: where is true love? Is there such a thing as true love?

A year ago I was still this little, naive girl who saw the world through her pink glasses. I believed that people are basically good, that we can always trust others. I knew that there are bad people out there, but somehow I trusted it that they didn't exist in my own-built-world; they couldn't exist. The worst thing is, I believed that there would come the time when I meet the one who will love me with all his heart, the one whom I can love back also with all my heart.

I thought loving someone means always doing it with the whole of your energy, like Elizabeth Browning said in one of her poems, " [...] with depth and breadth and height my soul can reach [....]" I believed her fully. I believed it would come in my way. I always imagined how beautiful it would be, to be able to pour someone your love that way..., to be able to experience it; being loved that way. So everytime I thought love is coming in my little path of life, I thought, " hey, now it is your turn, girl!" Then I would start to live out my dream. In the end (there were unfortunately always ends) I eventually realized that I was just dreaming my love life. In the end it is just me with pieces of my shattered dream.

I am the product of trashy love songs and poems! They mislead many people like me! Urging us to believe virtues, which actually just exist in the minds of simpletons.

Really, they should ban such arts!

Fun(ny) Love

It is a community where love is a commodity.

It is just fun and nothing but fun. If it makes no longer fun then you can go try and look for another fun in another place from another person. If you don't play their game, you will end up being the ball instead of the player. You can stick to your principles and enjoy yourself being tackled and or kicked around the field. Or you can play their game and forget who you are and your root and history.

It is another side of the planet. They have different rules. It is the place where you ought to eat or be eaten. It is the location to eat more than you can chew. You just have to ignore it if you choke. Ignore if your food is sending you to meet the skeleton with the scythe. You can still be a zombie and continue to eat delicious food! There is no end to fun. Fun is life. Fun is love.

Hail to capitalism!

On the Battlefield

What is wrong and what is right? Are there still any standard answers for this ultimate question? This is a battle. I am standing in the middle of the field with my weapons on my back. My lover is my greatest enemy. My enemy is my beloved lover. Just like Penthesilea and Achilles. In the end she killed him and ate his heart. Eventhough it meant that she also ate her own heart at the very moment. So she died when he died.

Inside Dreams

I feel like I am walking in my sleep. Or perhaps in someone else's sleep. It is very surreal here. The days are hot and fuzzy blue. The nights are dying cold but full of day's light. I don't know this city. I don't recognize my home, my room, my bed. Different. Unalike. They are aliens in my little world. A few times I caught myself trying to wake up and get out from this particular scene in order to find something I am familiar with. This turbulence of dreams are holding me a prisoner. In the dream of dreams I am drifting like fog above grass, moving slowly, taking my time to put my marks on many corners: "This is my territory!", I'd say. What is surreal could perhaps be sur(e)real.

A Box Full of Future

I want to risk it all and be like Pandora. I guess it is engraved in our female blood, ever since it began to rush inside us. I need to look inside the wonderful chest of father time Zeus gave me. What is inside? What is hidden inside? Apathy is something unfamiliar for me.

I am a magpie, who can not resist the temptation of glittering jewels.

Ruin Dance

Another unfinished world has tumbled down. It was a kingdom of folded cards, which was wrecked because of a slight breath of wind. Still she smiled and laughed at her disappointment and hysteria. He bolted his feelings inside his red glass jars. Surfacing just to take a bit of oxygen and beam to the frozen water in the air. It ended. She ended it. They ended. Going to a new untamed territory is a reluctant decision. In the meantime they prefer to go on dancing on the old new ruins; trying to enjoy and scrape the taste of the meal they could have had together. Outside the fence I look inside of the unfinished world that has tumbled down.

as fireflowers bloom

Today I witnessed a big party over the town. The sky was burned with many colors, like splashes of tints on a dark blue canvas. The fireflowers blasted off, exploded, rained down: lending a little feast for hungry lonely eyes. People were there, friends were there, I was inside happiness. Everybody and everything cheered. Somehow I feel like the dark blue canvas, but separated from those splashes of cheering tints. There is another party of dark canvasses inside me.

Processing

I am learning to walk on fire without getting my feet burned,
I am learning to eat shreds of glass without making my mouth bleed,
I am learning to look at a sun eclipse without getting my eyes blinded.
All there is to life and to live. I am learning.

Battered

Has it reapproached ? Has it come anew? Am I still capable of those give and take games? Have I not yet been crippled?

I changed my shape. Now I long to go back into the old me, for I have a new vessel now. A place to pour my rainbows down, to dip my soul to rest. But somehow I can not reach my old state yet. Somewhere in my old path I lost something meaningful, which I dread to save. If I can be the mahadevi again, if he can turn me into his energy, if we can mould ourselves into one subsistence.

My resistance. My rocket. My safety net.

The Arrival

Lo and behold!
Here comes my savior!

Galloping on the last unicorn, singing the song of the unknown land I have been desiring. His hair is as black as cold coals down inside the earth with streaks of golden aurora of the north pole. His smile is more blinding than the brightest sun burning over the african deserts. His eyes are falcons combing the land from above. Bewitching the very land where I stand, blowing a sweet scented breeze, blooming little white flowers on the ground between my feet. In grace he comes, spreading ripples of gentleness towards the sad and frightened trees.

He has found me.

step one

It is so very easy to be evil.
The root has been residing there since before the dawn has cracked. Sometimes you just do things without wanting. But still responsibilty is something you can't deny from you. Do you have to be evil to be able to keep on going with life? Because it is so very easy to be evil.

Explosion

Today I broke down. I tried to hold up the water inside my dam the whole time. But the pressure was just too forceful for my weakening strength; for the sky has been vomiting its bowels ever since his last new strokes. It was just too much for my basin, it was too hot for my snow barrier. I melted, it bursted out.

Transformers

I watch his words gliding to where I stand like a glistening serpent searching its way through uncountable barriers. Eerie it is, observing those beings changing shapes and shades gradually. What was blue can turn itself to yellow, what was big can turn into the tiniest element ever. What kind of magic takes place here I know not, yet constant quiver rules me, like lays of earth sometimes shudder when they clash on one another.

That they are carnivorous is not a new lesson. So I wonder, if I am going to throw myself back into their pit once again. Letting them fill my belly with sweets before all of a sudden slashing my flesh into little pieces, devouring them like hungry hyenas. Are they becoming my little gods that I am willing to offer myself on their behalf ?

Returned Order

In the yellow sky there are blue scattered thoughts of him.

Little dusts simmer whirling together shaping cotton candy fogs and clouds. Twinkling dots are the archer of the south; who is waiting patiently aiming to Apollo's charriot. If he could be shot down and tied up inside fogs and clouds for a while, perhaps there would be enough time for Gaia to return the long missed order in her chaotic bosom.

Then there would be no longer scattered thoughts of him in the yellow sky.

drip

A vast white tundra in my shelves. It's crowded yet it's also empty. It sprouts more than the speed of light, cramming and depriving at the same time. Very white and pure black. Beginning and end. Courage and fear. Holiness and sin. A vast white tundra clogging my drainage. It's jammed and starts leaking...
I am leaking a vast white tundra to the floor.

They are me

I rise up to the smell of hot coffee in the morning
I jump in glee seeing my long lost friend coming towards me
I hide myself behind a cupboard, afraid of my mother when I get bad grade in school
I have to hush up my tummy when I see chocolate-banana-pancakes in the cafeteria
I start to sing along when I hear my favorite song on the radio
and sing la la la when I forget the text
I panic when I don't finish my test on time and the teacher's already waiting
for me right next to where I sit
I frown when I cook for my father and he twitches his face while gulping his first bite telling me
how good it tastes
I pull up my blanket to cover my face when the morning sunshine tries to wake
me up too early
I cry when I fall down and get a bleeding knee
I laugh out loud when watching The Three Stooges

O how delightful it is being common

Keep Busy Don't Look Back Program

A friend of mine introduced me to a program for brokenhearted people. Perhaps it sounds silly at first, but if you're giving it a second (or third, or maybe also fourth...) thought, it is thousand miles away from where silliness dwells. She calls it "The Keep Busy Don't Look Back Program". I guess we don't need further explanations as to extract the hidden meaning from this extremely complicated concept.

She tried to recruit me as a member in this self help group of hers. The great thing about joining the group is that, you are not attached to it. You just have to get on with your life, be yourself and dump your horrible past. Even she --the founder and self pronounced leader of the group-- has forgotten why and how she started this program on the first place. You see how excellent it is.... She is so very busy that she doesn't have time to look back and already forgot her terrible broken heart and her brokenhearted people's club.... Or is it merely partial amnesia?

Well anyway, it's high time for me to take my wand out and cry, "cor reparo!"

Enchantment

O, Hail to guardian of the tower of the south!
I invoke thee!

Advance towards my shivering core
grant me thy dominion
to conquer the unconquered
defeat the undefeated

Hail to the guardian of the tower of the south!
I invoke thee!

Resemblances

Fire

Keeps you warm in cold nights. You can read your favorite treasury of love poems ("I love thee to the depth and breadth and height My soul can reach...") and smile to the dancing yellow covering you closely with its comforting warmth. You can lay yourself on the rug looking at your shadow on the ceiling; at the way it moves playfully joking with the tune of Puck's flickering melodies. You can throw a glance outside the window, watching and eavesdropping the rain making love to the damp earth while sipping your second cup of hot china tea.

Fire

burns you in the flame of passion. Its kisses tingle every nooks and crannies of your hand-crafted body. It introduces you to the world of blazing skies, where every hue glows radiantly together with clouds and stars; pacing with great speed, jumping, frolicking with your willful desire. It blasts you off so high so that you burst out to tears exulting the glory of your love.

Fire

annihilates you into a heap of cold cinder. Grace is something it's not familiar with. It won't stop ravaging until it has gotten your roots and seed in its inflaming cussedness..., until it is sure that you're entirely nullified, scourged, plundered; into just a heap of cold cinder.


Speaking of fire.

Unfit

Look at them displaying their smiles!

Exhibition of happiness takes place in the very picture, embedded by the green harmony of the nodding trees. Doubts don't have the slightest chance to take shape in its impending occurence; not in this image. Frown would be a disgrace to the sunny day, tear would ruin the tuneful melody of the exuberant colors of nature. They don't fit in. Don't fit.

So brace yourself up! Take control!
The lights are on, the blowers are on place, the camera is ready. There is no left space for imperfect emotions. Let them be e-motions caught in a bi-dimensional painting, freezed up in a frame from the same dimesion.

No place for flaws; so cut the erose leaf and put it away!

Inside and Out

My goodness gracious! Ugh... It is when your blood whirls swiftly to the brain, like lightning bolt racing with thunder to the earth; making you shudder because of the sudden cold that stings every single hair grows on your body. Ugh! Some kind of nausea blots the safeguard of your stomach, giving the taste of raw salty sea mollusk in the mouth of your throat. You just don't know if you have to stand up and talk or stay underground wincing making grimaces to communicate to goblins in their subway tunnels. Ugh....

A friend is a relief, more friends are a rejoice!

A kiss and an embrace are just not good enough to utter your bliss!

Your toilet is waiting. You're just so glad you can eventually go inside and discard your waste overkill out.

Ahhh....

A Mistake?

trust
Giving someone a second chance when there is actually not any available
trust
Laying down your arms short after a truce
trust
Believing the good will and nature of a person regadless of his crimes
trust

Because:
I love you still I regret my stupidity I need your love
I have learned so much from my mistakes I realize the big worth of your love
I love you more than before
I would never do you wrong anymore I would be at your side
There is nothing going on anymore between me and her
I don't want to see her again and I don't want to have her in this city ever again
I did not love her I just loved the image of her she treated me cruel It was a dream turned into a nightmare
I know how you are I am accepting every condition you have got
I know now that you are the one for me please give me the second chance and I will show you that this time I mean it for real
I am going to give my best to do everything right
now there is only you in my heart and nothing can change that and this time it is for always
I am different now

But then:

You can't compell someone to give you his heart
Now I know why she did that, I can understand her better and thus I love her more
There are so many things in common between me and her
everybody deserves a second chance
I don't know what I want I am so empty I am lost in my life
I love her still I feel sorry for her
I want to offer her my friendship
I think I will give her an overnight stay at my place; oh, no! You can't come here during her visit
I can not tell her that I have chosen you I don't want to hurt her
I don't want to hurt you
I love you both
If I can I want to marry both of you
why can't you understand me? You are becoming a cruel person now
save your sarcasm for yourself! I want to think everything over
I don't know if I love you I have to decide what's best for me
I choose you my brain says to choose you my heart tells me to have her
can we stop talking about this? I am tired of it!
I am different now


What do you know about trust?

The Run

Back to the start line again. The last run was annuled because of his disloyalty to the team. He went away and left me alone standing on the racetrack struck dumbfounded. But now he has come back to me once more with face looking down; regretting his blunder, deploring the absence of my existence. Despite of the loud objections from the jury I opened my arms to hear his pleas and accept his apologies. Yet forgiving is easier than forgetting, because I can still feel how my open wounds bled. The hurt sways like pendulum swinging in a regular interval, providing doubt with materials in order to thicken its walls around me. Nevertheless, the decision to revert has been reached, eventhough it has not been publicly announced. Preparation has to be made: remedies to heal injuries, cool spring water to quench thirst, music to sooth pain, attention to break down doubtwalls.

Words of forgiveness have been said; a new beginning has been agreed. So now I have to be consistent: hold on to what was spoken. So now I have to be fair: give him the chance to redeem. Obsolete hurts have to be forgotten, retaliation has to be wiped away. Back I am to the start line, my hand in his, waiting to hear the cry of "ready, get set, go!"

Lily of the Valley

Unison of peace in mind and heart. Purity, tranquility, humility.

The Dictator

I do not know what I am doing. I just did what my heart told me to. Most of the time it would only hurt myself, but still I am very much under its control. I have no idea where this little beating lump get its neverending power. Precisely at the moment when I thought it was at its weakest, it grew stronger, very much stronger than I can ever imagine it could be. I tried to overpower it. But instead of having it at my feet, I am following it on my bended knees.

Glass Bridge

He mentioned about our glass bridge. The bridge that brought us together as a couple, that held our love intact the whole time. He brought up his will of rebuilding that connection once again. Doesn't he realize it was not just the glass bridge that was torn down, fractured into sharp little splinters? It was also me. I was there on the bridge holding on tight to what I still could hold on to, eventhough he was no longer there.

Up there was I. Up when I should have run down and save myself before it shattered. Now that it has, I am at the moment occupied in taking care of my wounds, healing them with the herbs of father time. I do not have the needed strength to hold the bridge together again, nor to glue the colorful fractions into one; not anymore. I am drained, dehydrated. He sucked everything that was in me. I am using my final strength and last breath only for my own well being. Only.

We were two people brought together by a glass bridge. You should have spoken softly, trodden lightly.

. . . .

I woke up this morning looking up to the sky on the horizon. Secluded in a box of nothingness grinning to the black clouds that crawled spreading their greyness to the constant light blue. The light that was white, that was warm, that was kind; that was blinding, that was burning, that was menacing. The blue that was airy, that was cool, that was gentle; that was hard, that was all that.

I am wrapped up inside the grey, thinking that it is okay. But it is somehow too hollow here, too frozen. . . .

My Sickness

I thought I was sick. I panicked. I thought I was abnormal. I thought I was just a useless microbe with no life at all--considering my usual symbiosis had ditched me. So I thought, being a microbe I would not be able to continue living without him. He was my little world, he was my source of energy, he was my food supply. It is logical if I thought I would immediately die without that essential synergy; a very illogical point of view.

I was nearly dead, not because I did not possess any strength, but because I believe I would die. He stabbed me a few times, let myself bled, but then came to me and tried to hold me and heal my wounds; just to stab me more afterwards. I was so sure I would die. I was sure I was dead. But then I realized that I was still breathing, I could still see how he danced away to his so called soul mate, eventhough my lungs were clogged, my eyes were almost blind and my heart was crushed. I felt, I saw... and the wonder of it all is: I survived

I thought I was sick. But now I know I was not. I was just deeply in love. Deeply hurt.

Lovesick

From This Moment On--Shania Twain

(I do swear that I'll always be there. I'd give anything
and everything and I will always care. Through weakness
and strength, happiness and sorrow, for better, for worse,
I will love you with every beat of my heart.)

From this moment life has begun
From this moment you are the one
Right beside you is where I belong
From this moment on

From this moment I have been blessed
I live only for your happiness
And for your love I'd give my last breath
From this moment on

I give my hand to you with all my heart
Can't wait to live my life with you, can't wait to start
You and I will never be apart
My dreams came true because of you

From this moment as long as I live
I will love you, I promise you this
There is nothing I wouldn't give
From this moment on

You're the reason I believe in love
And you're the answer to my prayers from up above
All we need is just the two of us
My dreams came true because of you

From this moment as long as I live
I will love you, I promise you this
There is nothing I wouldn't give
From this moment
I will love you as long as I live
From this moment on
Analysis:
Too much Fantasizing, obsessed, loving the partner too much, giving up themselves to the other, identifying themselves with the other. Conclusion: Sick.


Everything I Do I Do It for You-- Bryan Adams

Look into my eyes - you will see
What you mean to me
Search your heart - search your soul
And when you find me there you'll search no more

Don't tell me it's not worth tryin' for
You can't tell me it's not worth dyin' for
You know it's true
Everything I do - I do it for you

Look into your heart - you will find
There's nothin' there to hide
Take me as I am - take my life
I would give it all - I would sacrifice

Don't tell me it's not worth fightin' for
I can't help it - there's nothin' I want more
Ya know it's true
Everything I do - I do it for you

There's no love - like your love
And no other - could give more love
There's nowhere - unless you're there
All the time - all the way

Oh - you can't tell me it's not worth tryin' for
I can't help it - there's nothin' I want more
I would fight for you - I'd lie for you
Walk the wire for you - ya I'd die for you

Ya know it's true
Everything I do - I do it for you

SICK TOO

I'm Too Me

Pathetic is maybe the most correct word for my condition right now. I tried to convince myself that I will get over him this time (I have been telling myself the same scenario since three weeks ago). I wrote encouragements for myself over and over again. Thousands of parchments are already used and written with all of anger and hurt and blame and guilt and the will to revenge, forgive and heal at the same time. But still, his promises are making me tied up on the spot. Like a baby in the dark mother's womb entangled by its umbilical cord, suffocated, but can not get out eventhough its time has rippened. Would I die inside my mother's cave or outside?

Here I go again feeling sorry for myself. Thinking writing saying telling asking about my death. I guess it's far from the literal one. I am too much a coward to end my life, and I actually still have a slight wish of seeing hope once again. In search for that little winged fairy, I analyzed every sheet of self-help book I could stumble upon. I see every single illness symptoms in me. My worries grow like an ancient baobab, stabbing through my dignities with its fear-sharpened trunks.

Too much love should be my illness, obsessive love is another of my many diagnoses. "Why Women Love Too Much" said my symptoms are almost acute. I am giving up myself and beginning identifying myself with him. I don't have any self-identity anymore. My happiness and sorrow are defined by his. According to many love-websites I am an obsessed lover because I just can't get over him. I am trying to be in control of my relationship. I want to change my partner the way I want him to be and believing that I am --that way-- helping him. However this is supposed to be just from my point of view. He doesn't feel comfortable treated like that, and he will by and by drift away from me. So my love drove him away, which was by the way the exact sentence he told me on one fine day.

I have to change my thinking. I have to be more self centered. I have to concentrate on my own well being. So no more I want to be with you in every waking moment. No more I want to hold you from the back while you are sleeping. No longer missing you every one absent hour. No longer weeping everytime you went away without kissing me good bye. I have got to be able to focus on me. Be egoistic, be on track, be practical, be mathematical, be logical, be cool, be mean! In other words: I must stop being me!

Going to

I am going to make him fall for me again!

and then he has to cry blood because of neglecting me. He has to be thrown to the dump for all the aches he gave me; the aches that he wrapped so very pretty in a beautiful big box; which I opened and devour with a hundred percent curiosity and happiness and trust. He has to experience the same pain from the same blades he swung to me thousands of times. He has to bear the equivalent fear and anger and rain and storm and heat and cold that are attacking his fortress altogether and eat its ruins and soil underneath. He has to see me in the eye and tremble from top to toe regretting his wrongdoings; trembling just like I trembled hearing the news of his turning point to his future past; trembling like a mountain trembles when its guts go hot and erupt like an insane glowing tsunami, jolting to the ruby red skies ripping and torning and devastating. Leaving nothing but a blunt numbness he has to feel.

I was the mother goddes, who loved and gave and kissed and hugged and caressed. I grew grasses and trees; blew life to the breath of the humming bees and the enchanted owls. My affection spreaded like butter on a hot toasted bread, like water flooding a jug. I was plain; I was true; I was compassionate; I was mild. I was that: weak.

Tears are transforming to steel, aches are changing to rage. I am no longer the old me.

A Proclamation

Because he proclaimed he was mine, he promised not just one life time, swore of the strength of our bond--since he talked me into enduring him, he stuffed his love into my holes, rampaged his rush into my slow paced world--for the reason that he made me vulnerable again, I am standing firm holding on to all what he had forced into me.

Like a balloon tied onto a big stone, I can only dance in one spot eventhough I yearn for another atmosphere. For I need to reach another meadow and pluck more daisies and count their petals to discover if he loves me or he loves me not. But when the rage comes, I just feel how my arms grow more driven by Kali's wrath. Then there can only be one thing that occupies my mind: WAR!

With Kali's wrath, Gaia's ploy, and the amazone wariors' skills I know I will win.

Death of the Summer

roll roll roll roll BAM! Grey and twilight and blur and numbness and pain and cold wind came, and stay---Poisoning the womb of the spring, killing the summer before her birth.

What If

How would you feel if the one you love told you that he actually wished, that he wanted someone who were not you, that you were just not good enough for his expectations, that he wished you would do things you have done differently, that his friends were better than you and that they were closer to his anticipations...

What would you do if you were told that you were not really wanted, that you were just not good enough, that you should've done things you've done differently, that there were close-to-perfect people around, but they were not you.

What if your fears were real, if the fear itself emerged in words, if those very familiar fears, which had been haunting you, uncovered itself before your eyes. What if those fears dwellt in your beloved one and now he showed you these in his glass heart?

What would you do, how would you feel?
Don't ask me, because these what ifs have got nothing to do with me.