When we decided to jump in the big sea water
and engulf ourselves in salt,
we ended up covered in sand.
We looked at ourselves and laughed
and lifted ourselves while
the warm sand grains pleasantly tumbled down.
We visualized the water: its coolness,
its immense fluidity, its danger...
We opened our eyes to jump in again,
but where there was salt
we saw only sand.
readme
Wednesday, May 23, 2018
F(or)lea
A guilty flea sat by the tree
Questioning its will to flee.
With one leap no one can see,
It could be elsewhere, could be free.
(Leaping carelessly and aimlessly
Is what best defines a flea.)
Still deciding what to plea,
Its heavy legs won't make that leap.
If it's guilty, it's of glee;
If it's not, it's got to be,
Otherwise it would be free
To jump, to leap, to preach, to teach.
.........
But even for this nimble flea,
You've never felt so out of reach.
Questioning its will to flee.
With one leap no one can see,
It could be elsewhere, could be free.
(Leaping carelessly and aimlessly
Is what best defines a flea.)
Still deciding what to plea,
Its heavy legs won't make that leap.
If it's guilty, it's of glee;
If it's not, it's got to be,
Otherwise it would be free
To jump, to leap, to preach, to teach.
.........
But even for this nimble flea,
You've never felt so out of reach.
Thursday, April 20, 2017
Breakthrough
While you were being captive
A world of beauty went its way unnoticed.
Wonders unfolded outside your little cell
and you only dreamed of that which you missed.
Time is merciless, waiting for no one.
You needed too much time to explore.
Prickles only sting the crude,
now someone else's blood paints this wooden floor.
Clasped from the side, you succumb to an urge
to never touch the rose you adore.
Held back by fears by shadows of doubt,
you watch the waves leaving the shore.
Your high ambitions left you unscathed,
although your soul perhaps a cloudy mist.
Yet the blue horizon still gleams in your wet eye
along with a wish to exist...
A world of beauty went its way unnoticed.
Wonders unfolded outside your little cell
and you only dreamed of that which you missed.
Time is merciless, waiting for no one.
You needed too much time to explore.
Prickles only sting the crude,
now someone else's blood paints this wooden floor.
Clasped from the side, you succumb to an urge
to never touch the rose you adore.
Held back by fears by shadows of doubt,
you watch the waves leaving the shore.
Your high ambitions left you unscathed,
although your soul perhaps a cloudy mist.
Yet the blue horizon still gleams in your wet eye
along with a wish to exist...
Friday, April 7, 2017
Ordinary love
Thinking of you on the way to the supermarket
Is like melting chocolate on a hot day:
It feels so natural, knowing what you like
I know now why supermarkets are there.
I almost forgot that yesterday was your birthday;
In my world this is not important.
You made a big deal out of it
I decided I would go buy you a present today.
The supermarket is open just for you
You don't like chocolate,
So I guess I will get you flowers
You don't like flowers either, but this is our little secret..
Friday, December 23, 2016
Katharsis
I am not forgetting
I'm just letting go
said one of my favorite Greek gods
to me on the phone
I turn on the TV and check the news
only to see bloodshed and tears
In an act of desperation
I try to invoke your image
but you won't appear
desolate snippets and broken cues
... not forgetting, just letting go...
My Greek god left me
and I can't stop the wars
with my mind
anymore
I'm just letting go
said one of my favorite Greek gods
to me on the phone
I turn on the TV and check the news
only to see bloodshed and tears
In an act of desperation
I try to invoke your image
but you won't appear
desolate snippets and broken cues
... not forgetting, just letting go...
My Greek god left me
and I can't stop the wars
with my mind
anymore
Tuesday, December 13, 2016
the negative to the positive
How many lost memories are in this universe? How many moments which "lasted forever" are long gone and forgotten? A memory is perfect, in that it remains untainted, untarred by the passing turmoil of corporeal life. But as the past's crust hardens, remembering becomes painful. Like tearing into a stubborn tangerine with the flat part of your thumb, you startle at the durability of its skin. This resistance brings a faint glimpse of the realization that the threshold into the past is more and more out of reach. Just like many a nice memory, you want to hold it, squeeze out all its juice. For sometimes, reality is just too cruel. Or inconvenient... As your finger presses feverishly through the orange peel, you feel the cold, familiar rush of the fruit's wet inner life, relieving the pain caused upon your overworked thumb. Like a drug, it offers relief, easing out the tension, temporarily untying the knots of your own disturbed soul. For a moment, the contrast is so great, like in a black-and-white photograph: ironically, a relic of the past. From shade to light, white to black, pain to shelter, present to past. How much can one take this abruptness? For how long can one hold on to a memory, to the negative of an unyielding present? or perhaps the positive? Well, perfection is neither positive nor negative, it should not matter in the end. And yet... The further the memory drifts off, the more difficult it is to conjure it. Such perfection should not be touched, we say to ourselves. We will let it live on its own terms, somewhere in the undefined parts of our brain; there is enough storage room for all which is perfect. We will not let it affect our everyday life, our imperfection. So... Is perfection really necessary? does it find a place in our lives? They say that the true sign of love is when you start liking someone's blemishes, or... imperfections. Presence is stronger than the absence, yet the lack of presence sometimes overpowers its negative, in which case it becomes the presence. So when presence is negative and anti-presence is positive, everything which isn't becomes great! What a sad realization... The tangerine stands untouched on the table, its crust hardening by the second. On the outside, nothing ever changes, yet inside is the unattainable perfection of a Dali painting... or of a dream... or of a memory... of you.
Saturday, December 3, 2016
Neue Prüfungsordnung in der Musikschule
Der Alltag kann manchmal fad und undankbar sein, vor allem wenn man den Beruf des Lehrers praktiziert. Unterricht, Prüfungen, Klassenkataloge und Reiserechnungen sind der Grund für manch einen viel zu frühen Burnout. Insofern habe ich mich entschlossen, meine Arbeit lustig und interessant zu gestalten, indem ich eine neue Prüfungsordnung, die einstimmig akzeptiert wurde, eingeführt habe:
Die Übertrittsprüfung
kann X an der Gemeinde ablegen. Derer Ausgestaltung hängt unausweichlich von
der Laune und Stimmung der Prüfungskommission ab. Seinen Mangel an Technik kann
er durch seine feine Musikalität nicht ausgleichen. Alles muss perfekt sein. Nach
seinem Spiel wird ein Gespräch gehalten und anschließend ein Prüfungsprotokoll
angefertigt. X.s Teilnahme an der Prüfung setzt einen fiktiven, abgelegten
Theoriekurs voraus, den er 10 Minuten vor der Prüfung und vor Ort und Stelle
mit seinem Lehrer durchführen muss. Eine Einwandfreie und umformungslose
Wiedergabe des gelernten Stoffes wird vom Prüfling erwartet, wobei er
unbestimmte, undeutlich formulierte Aufgaben vornehmen soll. Seine Gesamtnote
wird die Prüfungskommission dann seiner Hingabe und Begeisterung zugrunde
legen. Gefordert wird darüber hinaus Ehrgeiz und Konkurrenzgeist. Jedoch werden
weiche Charakterzüge und seltsame Persönlichkeitsmerkmale besonders positiv
gewichtet.
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