電光浴-1
通りでは ネオンの灯に
聖なれと バスは走る
巡る日々に ふさわしく
キミの声は 隠されて

 
電光浴-2
動かぬ チタンの船
行けずも 女神は来た
巡る日々に ふさわしく
キミの声は 隠されて


 

Elektrostatisches Bad 1

Auf den Straßen, im Neonlicht
Busse fahren vorbei, treiben uns dazu an heilig zu sein
Deine Stimme ist entsprechend versteckt
zwischen den Tagen die kommen und gehen

Elektrostatisches Bad 2

Das Schiff aus Titan, gestrandet
unmöglich sich zu bewegen erschien die Göttin
Deine Stimme ist entsprechend versteckt
zwischen den Tagen die kommen und gehen

 

Advertisements

Night walking

Juni 22, 2017

Here I am
again.
Walking the night
wearing a human body.

You said I can always come back to you. And I knew I would be taking advantage of your offer.
Another impulsive decision.
1190 Yen to Tsukuba.

I knock at your door and I know you would never open, not even for the post man. (But you will open the door for me.)
White stairs, a grey carpet, I sometimes cook for you, pretending to be your wife.

On Mondays your brother is here. Tired eyes behind small round glasses, a marine blue cap on his bold head.

„Guten Abend.“

Like a small animal, wounded and suffering, I crawl into your room. Blue walls, three flower pots, Ubuntu on your ACER. My eyes are full of tears – probably your cat which is giving me allergies.
The silence outside of Tokyo feels like an unknown paradies. I know that you grow sweet flag and geranium in your garden, I know you would grow lotus, if you could. I love Hydrangea. But you never asked me.

In your arms the neverending rotation of the world turbine stands still.
It’s your creativity which puts my mind at ease.

„Which human body are you wearing tonight?“
„Avatar Alone.“

72 days

Juni 12, 2017

I think we should talk

Although I believed

We’ll never speak again

And I had the courage
3 beer
And 4 drunken tears
Our silence for 72 days
I needed 30 to forget
And I wrote 5 sentences to you
How are you?
Long time no see.
I’ve been to Osaka.
(Do you remember the secrets we shared?)
How lonely are you?

I wish I could stop

the lonely feeling of imperfection

an reflection

I see myself in your dark eyes.

Let‘s go to the nurse cafe

where everyone dresses in white

and kissing tastes like sunburn.

Standing behind the telescope

Despising entropy

Only you know

how to hurt me.

My refugee,

my fantasy,

tear stains on the pillow,

blood stains on my sheets.

The only moment I can lose control

over myself.

Before going back to Negentropy.

This has been discussed already by many of my friends, therefore I want to keep my thoughts short. However, I agree with Vic’s post here and I also totally understand Taylor’s concern. The first moment I read Hirasawa’s thoughts about the election I was also surprised.

However, I think we should not put too much into Hirasawa’s tweets.
We all know, that he’s writing quite „cryptic“ and it is always difficult to understand what he really wants to express. This is also what makes him a good artist and entertainer.

As I told Heather, Vic and some of you already yesterday: for me his tweets were not about Trump or Clinton in particular, but for all of us being able to follow such a big event. Everyone was involved. Even non-American citizens.
Everyone was watching, waiting in anxiety and anticipation.
And now after this (quite devastating result) we all have the responsibility to act and work together!
We know, that someone like Trump cannot be a responsible leader. And since we have the internet, digital media and connectivity we also have a voice to express that.

As promised, I kept it short.
This is my hopeful interpretation of Hirasawa’s tweets.

Last thought: What I think what Hirasawa did very well was making us discuss.
We saw his tweets, we were shocked and we started to talk about it.
He connected us as well. And I think this is also something he intended to do…

Uruguay

Oktober 13, 2016

Uruguay
hast du gesagt,
um meine Naivität wissend.
Und nachts kann ich vor Angst nicht schlafen,
da du der Einzige bist,
der meine Einsamkeit kennt.

Die Einsamkeit, die ich in einer Bibel zu verstehen suchte,
und dennoch keine Antwort fand.
In deinen Worten,
in meinen Briefen an dich
(weil du mich liest)
fand ich Ruhe.

Und jetzt? Schläfst du auch?
Schläfst du wieder?
9000 km entfernt
hasse ich unser Land immer noch.

Und in einer Masse aus Menschen,
einem Klumpen aus Leben,
ohne Sinn und Verstand
frage ich dich nach Israel,
nach einem Weltgeschehen,
nach der Rigaer.

Und nachts kann ich wieder nicht schlafen.
Wo sind meine Helden?
Sinclair, Brecht
oder Luxemburg?

Und warum ich nicht zurück komme,
das hast du schon mal gesagt,
von einem rassistischen Land,
in ein anderes umgezogen.

Und nun warte ich hier.
Wartend
Auf meine eigene, innere friedliche Revolution.

Myself

August 15, 2016

Myself

This language I speak is not my own
I keep on searching
keep on roaming
This identity I have is not my own
and I keep on asking
„What is a home?“

I was born in a country
I was told to hate
my grandparents‘ past
became this generations‘ fate

I kept on searching for divinity
for something like a home
in every corner of the world
I only felt alone.

This language I use is not my own
I borrowed it, I pay the loan
This country I live in is not my own
and I keep on asking
„What is a home?“

I will be searching
roaming every book on this shelf
to eventually understand
a God
a home
lives only
in oneself.