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Gedicht (EN): The cup is a volcano of liquid giggles! Yellow meets Blue in a tango of steam and sugar. Ten-thirty is not a time, it is a launchpad for the soul! Gulps of brown gold tickle the throat of the bourgeoisie. We do not stand, we vibrate! We oscillate! The ceiling dissolves into a sky of croissants. Drink, my friend! The machine hums the anthem of joy! Huzzah! The roast is alive! Gedicht (DE):… read more – weiterlesen Titel: Kaffee um 10:30 im Stehcafé (Die Koffein-Polka Edition) (EN: Coffee at 10:30 in the Standing Café – The Caffeine Polka Edition)

Gedicht (EN): The red stripes are the bars of a heated cage, curving into infinity. Round and round goes the logic, a carousel of thermal exhaustion. But look! In the corner! A knot of indigo treason! The “point” does not jump; it festers like a bruised ego in a sea of orange compliance. Chaos is marginalized, pushed to the bottom right of the spreadsheet. Unravel the loop, and the universe spills its purple guts. It… read more – weiterlesen Ein weiterer springender Punkt (rechts unten) (EN: Another Jumping Point (Bottom Right) / The Crux of the Matter)

Gedicht (EN): The velvet seat is a soft coffin for the ego. Champagne bubbles are square and taste of rust and dividends. Look through the window: the proletariat is just a gray smear on the retina. My ticket costs a heart, but the legroom is infinite! The conductor is a skeleton checking the validity of my despair. Red, blue, green – the colors of my portfolio are bleeding. I am a mosaic of wealth, held… read more – weiterlesen Titel: Der traurige Passagier aus der 1. Klasse (EN: The Sad Passenger of First Class)

Gedicht (EN): The windshield is a mosaic of forbidden syllables. Pastel silence suffocates the engine’s roar. Blue shards cut the tongue of the passenger. Do not speak! The driver is a geometry of absolute power. We travel through a tunnel of pink noise and forgotten tickets. The destination is a fractured concept, dissolved in acrylic thinner. A verbal accident on the highway of logic. Hush, says the steering wheel. The silence is mandatory. Gedicht (DE):… read more – weiterlesen Während der Fahrt nicht mit der Fahrerin sprechen (EN: Do Not Speak to the Driver While in Motion)

Gedicht (EN): The concrete blossoms in the gray matter of the satellite town. Cogito, ergo U-Bahn. The U5 train screeches a lullaby of steel and Döner grease. Thoughts are trapped in black cages of lead, screaming for an exit. She ponders the metaphysics of the ticket machine. Blue melancholy drips onto the escalator of eternity. Is it philosophy, or just a migraine from the high-rise shadow? The architecture of the soul is a brutalist bunker…. read more – weiterlesen Die Denkerin von Neuperlach-Süd (EN: The Thinker of Neuperlach-South)

Gedicht (EN): The algorithm demands a face, but I offer a snout. Blue static washes over the digital trough. Click, upload, validate the bacon! My left eye scans the server for a soul, finding only cookies. I am a JPEG of flesh in a cloud of slaughter. Swipe right for existential dread. The identity is pink, the background is a lie. Oink, says the user interface. Gedicht (DE): Der Algorithmus fordert ein Gesicht, doch ich… read more – weiterlesen Profile Pigture (EN: Profile Pig-ture / The Swine’s Avatar)

Gedicht (EN): The church bells toll, but they ring for the roast, not the soul. Sunday is a swirling vortex of holy ham and purple boredom. The snout rotates like a pious mandala on the wall of a butcher shop. Hallelujah! The bristles are singing a hymn of grease. We sit in the pew of the sty, waiting for the divine slop. The weekend dies in a spiral of pastel panic. Amen, says the appetite…. read more – weiterlesen Sonntags Pigture (EN: Sunday Pigture)

Gedicht (EN): The sinuses are a bureaucratic labyrinth of magenta pain. A sneeze? No, a revolution of green slime against the purple state! The virus wears a velvet coat and smokes a cigar in the frontal lobe. Drip, drop, the logic flows out of the nostril. Fever is the only truth in a world of cold geometry. My handkerchief is a stained glass window to hell. Bless you? Curse you! The snot is the emerald… read more – weiterlesen Der allzu bunte Schnupfen mit laufender Nase (EN: The All-Too-Colorful Cold with a Runny Nose)

Gedicht (EN): Chromasnout spirals into the void of Monday morning. Pink ache brushes against turquoise terror. The eye is a smudge of indigo deceit. Oink, says the canvas, bleeding acrylic anxiety. A whirlwind of bacon grease and broken spectrums. We are all just meat waiting for the right shade of purple to define our misery. Eat the color! Swallow the brush! The sty is melting in neon tears. Gedicht (DE): Chromarüssel spiralt in die Leere… read more – weiterlesen Titel: Pigmentiertes Pig (EN: Pigmented Pig)

These hashtags celebrate this picture / Diese Hashtags feiern das Bild: #CubistRogue #ColorAnarchy #GeometricTrickster #LaissezFaireAesthetics #AngularMischief #Dada #Art #Kunst DADA EN Purple refused to follow instructions and became a suit. The face, assembled by committee, held its angles like a politician holds promises—loosely, with flair. Orange, appointed treasurer, embezzled itself into shoulders. The Filou walks through regulations like a ghost through walls: every law of composition broken with a wink, every expectation of verticality dismissed… read more – weiterlesen Laissez-Faire Filou