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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 button, press for delete, The world is nothing but processed meat. Is the apple a bribe? Is the fence a… read more – weiterlesen Ein weiterer Eintrag im Schweinetagebuch / Another Entry in the Pig Diary

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 face? Or a map of the lost? Defending the void at the highest cost. No lions roar, no eagles fly,… read more – weiterlesen Schild und Wappen / Shield and Coat of Arms

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 red, and panic is cyan, The Mume dissolves in the frying pan. She whispers of drafts and the price of… read more – weiterlesen Die besorgte Mume / The Worried Aunt

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? Or acts of state? Marching blindly to the gate. Click-clack, the rails dissect the bone, He walks together, yet alone…. read more – weiterlesen Der schnelle Umsteiger schreitet bunt voran / The Rapid Transferer Strides Colorfully Ahead

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 is a purple bruise. We search for the moral, but find only geometry. Click, clack, the typewriter eats its own… read more – weiterlesen Der Schlüssel zur Kurzgeschichte (EN: The Key to the Short Story)

Gedicht (EN): The espresso is a black hole in a ceramic thimble. My neighbor is blue; is it oxygen deprivation or just the economy? I watch him through the steam of suspicion. He wears the cold geometry of a winter morning, wrapped in teal silence. I burn in orange panic, clutching the handle like a grenade pin. Does he know? Does he see the yellow fever of my thoughts? The standing table is the only… read more – weiterlesen Der besorgte Beobachter im Steh-Café (EN: The Worried Observer in the Standing Café)

Gedicht (EN): The alarm clock is a guillotine for the dream. 08:30: The precise moment the soul realizes it is Tuesday. The mouth is a black tunnel leading to the boardroom. Aaaah! says the coffee. Oooooh! says the deadline. One eye is blue with cold logic, the other pink with inflammation. The throat swells with the unspoken “No!” We are gargoyles of the morning shift, vomiting silence. Swallow the scream, or the scream will swallow… read more – weiterlesen Der Aufschrei um 08:30 Uhr (EN: The Outcry at 08:30 AM)

Gedicht (EN): The orange knee hits the purple thigh. A collision of soft geometries in the waiting room of existence. We sit in a circle of expectation, breathing the same recycled air. The blue face says nothing, the green face screams internally. Chair legs root into the abyss of the carpet. We are a bouquet of neuroses, wrapped in black wire. Sit! Stay! Decay! The conversation is a balloon that popped yesterday. United in gravity,… read more – weiterlesen Die Sitzgruppe (EN: The Seating Group / The Committee of Silence)

Gedicht (EN): The lips are frozen in a silent blue scream. A red pillar of shame divides the face of the century. One eye looks at the stock market, the other into the abyss. Sanctify the geometry! The soul is a puzzle with missing pieces. Yellow fear sits on the right cheek, green envy on the left. We are all stained glass waiting for the brick. The halo is gone, pawned for a tube of… read more – weiterlesen Ikone Teil 2 (EN: Icon Part 2 / The Saint of Broken Pixels)

Gedicht (EN): The halo is a burning tire of neon rubber. Saint Chromium prays to the god of the spectrum. Orange screams at purple: “Kneel, you peasant of the wavelength!” The eye is a digital pixel of infinite guilt. We worship the brushstroke, not the miracle. Amen to the turpentine! The liturgy is a rainbow of broken glass and headache pills. Sanctify the saturation! Gedicht (DE): Der Heiligenschein ist ein brennender Reifen aus Neongummi. Sankt… read more – weiterlesen Eine Ikone in Farben (EN: An Icon in Colors / The Technicolor Saint)