Ein Blog aus Berlin
Freunde verlassen mich, obwohl ich alles so mache, wie sie es früher getan haben.
Versuche ich sie zu imitieren, verliere ich mein eigentliches Selbst, und treibe in einer Wolke davon.
– Image Blown Out
Fifty thousand men were sent to do the will of one.
His claim was phrased quite simply,
though he never voiced it loud,
I am he, the chosen one.
In his name they could slaughter,
for his name they could die.
Though many there were believed in him,
still more were sure he lied,
But they’ll fight the battle on.
Then one whose faith had died
Fled back up the mountainside,
But before the top was made,
A misplaced footfall made him stray
From the path prepared for him.
Off of the mountain,
On to a wilderness of ice.
This unexpected vision made them stand and shake with fear,
But nothing was his fright compared with those who saw him appear.
Terror filled their minds with awe.
Simple were the folk who lived
Upon this frozen wave.
So not surprising was their thought,
This is he, God’s chosen one,
Who’s come to save us from
All our oppressors.
We shall be kings on this world
.
Follow me!
I’ll play the game you want me,
Until I find a way back home.
Follow me!
I give you strength inside you,
Courage to win your battles –
No, no, no, this can’t go on,
This will be all that I fled from.
Let me rest for a while.
He walked into a valley,
All alone.
There he talked with water, and then with the vine.
They leave me no choice.
I must lead them to glory or most likely to death.
They travelled cross the plateau of ice, up to its edge.
Then they crossed a mountain range and saw the final plain.
Still he urged the people on.
Then, on a distant slope,
He observed one without hope
Flee back up the mountainside.
He thought he recognised him by his walk,
And by the way he fell,
And by the way he
Stood up, and vanished into air.
Was it summer when the river ran dry
Or was it just another dam
When the evil of a snowflake in June
Could still be a source of relief
O how I love you, I once cried long ago
But I was the one who decided to go
To search beyond the final crest
Though I’d heard it said just birds could dwell so high
So I pretended to have wings for my arms
And took off in the air
I flew to places which the clouds never see
Too close to the deserts of sand
Where a thousand mirages, the shepherds of lies
Forced me to land and take a disguise
I would welcome a horse’s kick to send me back
If I could find a horse not made of sand
If this desert’s all there’ll ever be
Then tell me what becomes of me
A fall of rain
That must have been another of your dream
A dream of mad man moon
Hey man
I’m the sandman
And boy have I news for you
They’re gonna throw you in goal
And you know they can’t fail
‚Cos sand is thicker than blood
But a prison in sand
Is a haven in hell
For a gaol can give you a goal
Goal can find you a role
On a muddy pitch in Newcastle
Where it rains so much
You can’t wait for a touch
Of sun and sand, sun and sand
Within the valley of shadowless death
They pray for thunderclouds and rain
But to the multitude who stand in the rain
Heaven is where the sun shines
The grass will be greener till the stems turn to brown
And thoughts will fly higher till the earth brings them down
Forever caught in desert lands one has to learn
To disbelieve the sea
If this desert’s all there’ll ever be
Then tell me what becomes of me.
A fall of rain
That must have been another of your dreams
A dream of mad man moon
The scent grows richer, he knows he must be near,
He finds a long passageway lit by chandelier.
Each step he takes, the perfumes change
From familiar fragrance to flavours strange.
A magnificent chamber meets his eye.
Inside, a long rose-water pool is shrouded by fine mist.
Stepping in the moist silence, with a warm breeze he’s gently kissed.
Thinking he is quite alone,
He enters the room, as if it were his own
But ripples on the sweet pink water
Reveal some company unthought of –
Rael stands astonished doubting his sight,
Struck by beauty, gripped in fright;
Three vermilion snakes of female face
The smallest motion, filled with grace.
Muted melodies fill the echoing hall,
But there is no sign of warning in the siren’s call:
“ Rael welcome, we are the Lamia of the pool.
We have been waiting for our waters to bring you cool.“
Putting fear beside him, he trusts in beauty blind,
He slips into the nectar, leaving his shredded clothes behind.
With their tongues, they test, taste and judge all that is mine.
They move in a series of caresses
That glide up and down my spine.
As they nibble the fruit of my flesh, I feel no pain,
Only a magic that a name would stain.
With the first drop of my blood in their veins
Their faces are convulsed in mortal pains.
The fairest cries, „We all have loved you Rael“.
Each empty snakelike body floats,
Silent sorrow in empty boats.
A sickly sourness fills the room,
The bitter harvest of a dying bloom.
Looking for motion I know I will not find,
I stroke the curls now turning pale, in which I’d lain entwined
“ O Lamia, your flesh that remains I will take as my food“
It is the scent of garlic that lingers on my chocolate fingers.
Looking behind me, the water turns icy blue,
The lights are dimmed and once again the stage is set for you.