Für alle die es bisher hierhin geschafft haben: Danke für Eure Aufmerksamkeit!
Ich bin dabei Inhalte zu erstellen; also Geduld. Ich möchte nicht halbgares Zeugs präsentieren, am Intro arbeite ich noch. ;-)
Bis demnächst,
Tatze
Donnerstag, 24. Mai 2007
Mittwoch, 9. Mai 2007
A Sea Of Dreams
While I'm floating in my sea of dreams
I'm losing contact to the world
that surrounds me and
cheat on reality.
In my sea of dreams I dream
The Dream
that might never be real
for you and me
The Dream that keeps up my hope
to live for a future in your arms
But yet, It creates a feeling
of blackest blackness
in my depressive mind
for it's nothing but
an unfortunate dream.
It raises and depresses hope
as it pleases
and my unrest to explore
the world of your
secret mind and body
increases Its intensity.
While I'm floating in my sea of dreams
I'm having contact with you;
and you surround me with
your sweetness
as I cheat on my lost self.
In this dream I create
the illusion
of a love that cannot be
to you and me
self-deception
as a substantial part of
this dreamland.
As I hold on to
The Dream
I drown with It
in my sea of dreams
I'm losing contact to the world
that surrounds me and
cheat on reality.
In my sea of dreams I dream
The Dream
that might never be real
for you and me
The Dream that keeps up my hope
to live for a future in your arms
But yet, It creates a feeling
of blackest blackness
in my depressive mind
for it's nothing but
an unfortunate dream.
It raises and depresses hope
as it pleases
and my unrest to explore
the world of your
secret mind and body
increases Its intensity.
While I'm floating in my sea of dreams
I'm having contact with you;
and you surround me with
your sweetness
as I cheat on my lost self.
In this dream I create
the illusion
of a love that cannot be
to you and me
self-deception
as a substantial part of
this dreamland.
As I hold on to
The Dream
I drown with It
in my sea of dreams
(between 01-06/1994)
Mittwoch, 25. April 2007
Intro
Tod auf Raten -
was ist das denn für ein komischer Titel? Ist der Todessüchtig, oder was?
Nee, ist er nicht!
Der Tod ist nur ein Thema, welches mich seit langem beschäftigt.
Sei es, dass ein Familienmitglied oder Freund stirbt, seine Liebste vom Tode bedroht, man selber knapp dem Tod entronnen ist oder man von Toten durch Unfälle, Krieg und Mord liest, sieht und hört.
Jeder kann sich in dieser kurzen Liste an der einen oder anderen Stelle, vielleicht sogar an allen genannten, Wiederfinden. Sei es als unfreiwillig oder auch absichtlich involvierter.
Manch einer will sich mit dem Thema erst befassen, wenn es für ihn soweit ist. Das ist völlig in Ordnung. Der Tod ist ja auch der Finale Akt im Leben, warum sollte man sich damit im Leben befassen?
Ich habe mir mehrmals die Frage gestellt, was nach dem Tod mit mir passiert. Außer, dass mein Körper, also die Hülle für das, was mich als Persönlichkeit ausmacht, verwesen wird, wird nichts passieren. Ich werde zerfallen und nichts von mir, meinem Ich wird diesen Verfall überdauern. Meine Gedanken und Erinnerungen werden aufhören zu existieren. Alles was ich irgendwann, irgendwo aufgeschrieben oder hinterlassen habe, wird nur ein kleines fragmentiertes Abbild Meinerselbst sein und mich niemals im Ganzen darstellen können. Das ist schon irgendwie bedauerlich. Aber:
So ist der Lauf der Dinge. Alles ist vergänglich. Es muss Platz für Neues gemacht werden.
Aber nicht verzagen. Bis es soweit ist, ist noch viel Zeit. Zeit aus seinem Leben etwas zu machen, um vielleicht das vergessenwerden hinauszuzögern oder ganz abzuwenden.
Bis dahin: Glück auf!
Montag, 23. April 2007
Untitled
Sitting in my lonely chamber,
tied to the problems of the world.
Left alone!
Time to contemplate about my life,
how it was,
how it is,
how it will be and
how it will end.
Knowing the answers for some of these questions already for sure.
"It's your turn!" somebody said.
OK!
So I get off my bed and walk among these strange-dressed people as if they were all trying to beat out their competitors in a costume-contest,
not realizing how silly they actually look.
Impressive, but silly.
Important, still silly.
"Escape!" "Flee!" my lil' mind tells me.
But where to go, to who should I run?
And why?
I go on and make this decision,
knowing I will succeed.
"Time to leave!" somebody said.
That late already?
Alright, I guess so. I grab my stuff and swing the backpack over my shoulder. With my hands full I stand there in the rain. Sunset has been hours from now. Nobody wants to be outside now, even animals hide in their nest and roll themselves into unrecognizable fur-balls. Birds sit on their breed and stopped singing long ago. Only rats are out and eat what people have left over from their fast-food. And me, I am out, feeling like a rat, trying to find something to eat and a place to stay and get settled with someone to love.
"Goodbye!" somebody said.
Goodbye! These lil' words sound like my ex-girlfriend, when she kissed me goodbye. Along sweet kiss, with a bitter aftertaste.
Was it the kiss of Judas, when he marked Jesus for some gold pieces?
Was it a "Thank you!" for the good times we had?
Was it a "Sorry for all the grief I gave you!"?
Who knows? I don't!
"Say a prayer!" somebody said.
A what? I haven't prayed for years and I don't believe in that kind of stuff either.
And to whom ... or what?
God? Allah? Shiva? Jehova? Buddha? to name a few ...
Some Pharaoh in a long-lost dynasty of Egypt kings?
The King ? Which one?
TV? Money? Bugs?
I decide to to say a prayer for myself. Just to calm me and anybody else down and to get my mind away from things.
Will it help?
Amen!
"Didn't you forget something?" a voice said.
Oops, yes. I'm sorry. So I give her the money and slip that thing on, that is supposed to save her life and mine. To prolong suffering. Being inside her is a feeling like I never expected it to be: soft and warm, combined with the smell of sweet perfume. A cozy place. I could get used to it. Addicted and lost in ecstasy. But I wonder if she'd moan louder if I'd give her more money...
"Wanna smoke?", somebody asked.
Why not?! And there it starts. Another quick step towards the grave. A shortcut to the reaper. ("Don't fear the reaper!" a band sings. (No, I don't. Yes, I do.)) The joint goes from one hand to the other, and people start talking about their strange feelings. Being talkative seems to be one effect and I'm mumbling about this and that. I'm hungry. Let me have it again. Not yet addicted, but lost in space.
"Have a drink", a person mumbles.
Cool! Finally somebody asks me. I gimme the shot and feel the warmth it spreads in my throat and belly. After a few glasses I feel very funny and have the urgent feeling to tell anyone that I'm drunk. But who cares? They are all drunk, too, and some are out of their minds. Some have to regurgitate what's been left in their stomach from their last meal. Just like adult birds feeding the kids. And just like young birds they move their arms and legs, fall out of the nest, get up again and look with a wild stare for a secure place. Strange days.
"Time to go home", a crowd says.
Yep, it's about time. I throw my last rocks in the dirty, poisoned river that still runs downhill, with some ships on its back. They'll hopefully reach the last harbor before the open sea catches them; it might never release its victims ... Some of my rocks make loud noises, some don't. Some create circles of waves, some don't. Of those that do, I'm very sure the rings will be destroyed by bigger ones before they reach their destination. I go.
The noise drags me out of my memories.
What is it? What was it? What has it been?
Little plastic bags under my chair drop into a bowl of liquid chemicals, releasing their deadly freight. The poisonous gas spreads rather quickly in my locked and sealed room. All by myself I will leave this world. I watch the people behind the thick glass. Like they watch me. It's like a zoo. A small zoo with just one animal and multiple spectators. Witnessing my death. Being aware of that, I deeply inhale what's fighting oxygen in my own lil' world. I can feel the gas fill out my lungs, the molecules attack my blood, I can feel how they reach my fingertips, my toes; allover my body I can feel it. No pain, no gain. With my last breath I say goodbye to the old world. Maybe I step into a new one ...
tied to the problems of the world.
Left alone!
Time to contemplate about my life,
how it was,
how it is,
how it will be and
how it will end.
Knowing the answers for some of these questions already for sure.
"It's your turn!" somebody said.
OK!
So I get off my bed and walk among these strange-dressed people as if they were all trying to beat out their competitors in a costume-contest,
not realizing how silly they actually look.
Impressive, but silly.
Important, still silly.
"Escape!" "Flee!" my lil' mind tells me.
But where to go, to who should I run?
And why?
I go on and make this decision,
knowing I will succeed.
"Time to leave!" somebody said.
That late already?
Alright, I guess so. I grab my stuff and swing the backpack over my shoulder. With my hands full I stand there in the rain. Sunset has been hours from now. Nobody wants to be outside now, even animals hide in their nest and roll themselves into unrecognizable fur-balls. Birds sit on their breed and stopped singing long ago. Only rats are out and eat what people have left over from their fast-food. And me, I am out, feeling like a rat, trying to find something to eat and a place to stay and get settled with someone to love.
"Goodbye!" somebody said.
Goodbye! These lil' words sound like my ex-girlfriend, when she kissed me goodbye. Along sweet kiss, with a bitter aftertaste.
Was it the kiss of Judas, when he marked Jesus for some gold pieces?
Was it a "Thank you!" for the good times we had?
Was it a "Sorry for all the grief I gave you!"?
Who knows? I don't!
"Say a prayer!" somebody said.
A what? I haven't prayed for years and I don't believe in that kind of stuff either.
And to whom ... or what?
God? Allah? Shiva? Jehova? Buddha? to name a few ...
Some Pharaoh in a long-lost dynasty of Egypt kings?
The King ? Which one?
TV? Money? Bugs?
I decide to to say a prayer for myself. Just to calm me and anybody else down and to get my mind away from things.
Will it help?
Amen!
"Didn't you forget something?" a voice said.
Oops, yes. I'm sorry. So I give her the money and slip that thing on, that is supposed to save her life and mine. To prolong suffering. Being inside her is a feeling like I never expected it to be: soft and warm, combined with the smell of sweet perfume. A cozy place. I could get used to it. Addicted and lost in ecstasy. But I wonder if she'd moan louder if I'd give her more money...
"Wanna smoke?", somebody asked.
Why not?! And there it starts. Another quick step towards the grave. A shortcut to the reaper. ("Don't fear the reaper!" a band sings. (No, I don't. Yes, I do.)) The joint goes from one hand to the other, and people start talking about their strange feelings. Being talkative seems to be one effect and I'm mumbling about this and that. I'm hungry. Let me have it again. Not yet addicted, but lost in space.
"Have a drink", a person mumbles.
Cool! Finally somebody asks me. I gimme the shot and feel the warmth it spreads in my throat and belly. After a few glasses I feel very funny and have the urgent feeling to tell anyone that I'm drunk. But who cares? They are all drunk, too, and some are out of their minds. Some have to regurgitate what's been left in their stomach from their last meal. Just like adult birds feeding the kids. And just like young birds they move their arms and legs, fall out of the nest, get up again and look with a wild stare for a secure place. Strange days.
"Time to go home", a crowd says.
Yep, it's about time. I throw my last rocks in the dirty, poisoned river that still runs downhill, with some ships on its back. They'll hopefully reach the last harbor before the open sea catches them; it might never release its victims ... Some of my rocks make loud noises, some don't. Some create circles of waves, some don't. Of those that do, I'm very sure the rings will be destroyed by bigger ones before they reach their destination. I go.
The noise drags me out of my memories.
What is it? What was it? What has it been?
Little plastic bags under my chair drop into a bowl of liquid chemicals, releasing their deadly freight. The poisonous gas spreads rather quickly in my locked and sealed room. All by myself I will leave this world. I watch the people behind the thick glass. Like they watch me. It's like a zoo. A small zoo with just one animal and multiple spectators. Witnessing my death. Being aware of that, I deeply inhale what's fighting oxygen in my own lil' world. I can feel the gas fill out my lungs, the molecules attack my blood, I can feel how they reach my fingertips, my toes; allover my body I can feel it. No pain, no gain. With my last breath I say goodbye to the old world. Maybe I step into a new one ...
(around 1996)
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