DaDa Driven Art by Dr. Stephan Pflaum
EN: A tangled web of neon blue, The iron cage that we pass through. Green streaks across a bleeding heart, Where every ending finds its start. The pig is gone, the lines remain, A geometric map of pain. No exit here, no door, no key, Just vibrant, striped captivity. Kafka’s ink on a technicolor dream, … Read more
Gedicht / Poem EN: Petals of plastic, wilting in neon, A detergent god, dead for an eon. The 80s are bleeding in turquoise and tan, The end of the flower, the end of the man. A snout emerges from the soapy foam, Looking for sense, but finding no home. Geometric ghosts in a violet haze, … Read more
Gedicht / Poem EN: The mountain is a pig, the pig is a hill, In the orange heat, the world stands still. Purple strokes like a fevered lash, Turning the solid to ethereal ash. No apple on a plate, but a snout in the sky, Where the colors of Mont Sainte-Victoire go to die. A … Read more
EN: A snout leans left, a jagged hook, From the blue void where no one shall look. Orange heat meets the violet stare, A bureaucratic beast in its lonely lair. Lines bleed out like a broken law, Clutching the air with a velvet claw. It’s the trial of the morning, the judgment of tea, In … Read more
Gedicht: EN: Pink squares, a snout’s dark void, A shattered gaze, by life annoyed. The pig-face grins, a cubist lie, While silent screams from asphalt fly. A world of angles, sharp and red, Where reason’s ghost is long since dead. The diary entries, stained with ink, Reflect a thought we dare not think. In purple … Read more
EN: The Trough of Forgotten Thoughts Dear Diary, today the mud was blue, I ate a pearl and spat out a shoe. The farmer’s shadow is a guillotine blade, In the pink cathedral, I sit dismayed. Oink, grunt, the logic is fried, Where does the schnitzel act, where does it hide? My snout is a … Read more
EN: The Heraldry of the Hollow Man A coat of arms made of splintered bone, The King sits weeping on a cardboard throne. Blue is the bruise, red is the scream, Trapped in the logic of a fever dream. The shield is paper, the sword is rust, Honor crumbles into pixel dust. Is it a … Read more
EN: The Knitting Needle Stabs the Void The porcelain cracks, the coffee is fear, Why is the blue cheek drawing near? One eye is a tunnel, the other a wall, She watches the silence beginning to fall. Is the nephew a bug? Is the niece a machine? Trapped in a geometric, colorful screen. Worry is … Read more
EN: The Kaleidoscope of the Platform The timetable is a jawless skull, Eating minutes, void and dull. One leg red, the other lies, A patchwork man beneath grey skies. Transfer! Change! The whistle blows, Where the neon cancer grows. He steps into the fractured light, A puzzle piece in endless night. Is it a hat? … Read more
Gedicht (EN): The narrative is a locked room filled with red adjectives. Where is the verb? It is hiding in a blue triangle of despair. Turn the key! But the key is made of melted orange wax. The plot twists like a black snake strangling the protagonist. Chapter one is a yellow explosion; the epilogue … Read more