Multipoem: Wracks/Wrecks/Naufragios

Einen Augenschlag zu spät
Realisierte ich,
Wie ich mich verloren hatte
Im Ozean deiner Blicke.

Zu spät, durchnässt,
Um mich abzuwenden
Vom Sturm des Glücks,
Das mich umspülte.

Die Gegenwart
Der feuchten Erkenntnis
Schlage ich ein
Mit langen Wimpern.

Wie ein Reissverschluss
Verbinden sich
Unsere Schicksale
Surrend zum gegenseitigen Geschenk.

Halt mich!
Halt mitten drauf!
Halt mich nicht auf!

Kalte Wasser schlagen
An süße Küsten.
Wir sind Salz und Zucker,
Sinnliche Schiffe segelnd.

Die letzte Ration fressend
Trocknen auf blutleeren Lippen
Samtene Momente.
Der Kuss, der uns versenkt.

Verkeilte Wracks,
Von dem die Taucher sagen werden,
Ein Vorbild für die Nachwelt.


One eye-blow too late
I realized
How I lost myself
In the ocean of your looks.

Too late, soaked,
To turn away
From the storm of happiness,
That lapped me.

The presence
Of wet knowledge
I wrapped it
With long eyelashes.

Like a zipper
Our destinies
Connect themself, humming,
To a mutual gift.

Hold me!
Hold to the middle of it!
Do not stop me!

Cold waters hit
On sweet shores.
We are salt and sugar,
Sailing sensuous ships.

Eating the last ration
On bloodless lips
Velvet moments dry.
The kiss that sinks us.

Wedged wrecks,
Which the divers will call
A role model for posterity.


Un golpe de ojo demasiado tarde
me di cuenta
Cómo me perdí
En el océano de tu apariencia.

Demasiado tarde, empapado,
Dar la espalda
De la tormenta de la felicidad
Eso me lamió.

La presencia
De conocimiento mojado
Lo envolví
Con pestañas largas.

Como una cremallera
Nuestros destinos
Conéctese a sí mismo, tarareando,
Para un regalo mutuo.

¡Abrázame!
Mantenga a la mitad de eso!
¡No me detengas!

Golpe de aguas frías
En orillas dulces.
Somos sal y azúcar,
Navegando barcos sensuales.

Comiendo la última ración
En labios sin sangre
Velvet momentos secos.
El beso que nos hunde

Naufragios enclavados,
Que los buzos llamarán
Un modelo a seguir para la posteridad.


Dears, I know the translations are not perfect, but I hope you can get an impression about my thoughts. It’s funny how translations change meanings in a way. Let me know every question.

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My Exhibition At Microworksmedia

I remember the days I was photoshooting in “GTA3” and sitting in “Second Life” hotels discussing about poetry. Art has always been part of so called digital revolution. Let me show you an interesting project.

Microworksmedia’s (“Visual authoring resources for brand experience designers”) project is based on the idea of showing digital graphic art in a virtual gallery room. Like in Google Streetview you can turn and zoom your views on digital art made by an independent artist. With including music a real-life gallery experience is created. And you can visit the room from all over the world, as it’s based in web.

Franck, the maker of microworksmedia, also works as an artist and digital designer. He is hosting tutorials about digital design on his homepage, he tells you about meta-realism and tries to bridge the gap from old-fashioned to new media art. Take a look.

When I found his works on Instagram I was fascinated. These galleries are an easy idea, but they are realized in a lovely, contemporary and on-time way. So I followed his page giving some feedback. I was really happy when he asked: We would like to feature your work, is this ok? Sure it is! I was honoured.

So I can hereby proudly announce my first digital exhibition. Find it here, or click on pics in this article, it will be online minimum a week. Franck chose mainly abstract mirrorart designs, but you will also find some opart and photoedits. I want to thank him gratefully and also Mary alias momfrantz_fx for giving permission to use some of her original pics as part of editing challenges. 

I would be happy about any feedback, which makes me grow with my art. I am really proud I could take this step into public and I would never have believed what apps like mirrorlab and groups like fx_hdr, bpa_arts or lightedlight would make with me and my art. I started photography and digital editing one and a half year ago, now I am exhibiting and planning next steps. 

I hope you enjoy the fun. Thanks for all your love, help and feedback. The new world is conquered, and it is as beautiful as we believe the past must have been. Find all my works in my Instagram.

Three Pieces Of Klingon Poetry

Sto’Vo’Kor Revisor.

.

Without tears

Honored dead

Rowing down

The stream.

.

When will

They realize

Blood always

Flows downwards?

.

Yell for them!

Let them 

Hear bat’leths 

Slaying life tonight.

.

.

Just A PetaQ

.

Hiding from

The War 

Going on outside

No Humanoid

Is save from.

.

Six billion

Ways to die,

But he

Chose none

Of honor.

.

He just hides 

And flees death.

His life is collaborating

With species

In deep spaces

.

To vanish

In a wormhole

Not even submitting

A last message.

This is worth no song.

.

.

Painful Victory

.

Stardust sparkeled

On my Painstick.

Sick ceremonies

Had started.

.

Highnoon

In a rocky desert,

I’d fought

My moon not once.

.

Two suns

Guided blades

Against a sickle.

Live and die, 

my glooming mate.

.

After dark

I found my fate

In a violently

Bent blue arc

And I giggle.

Poem: Not Allowed

I should have never bought this pair of tights, so you wouldn’t have ripped and messed them and my hair.

I should have never answered your calls filled with your needs for cold coffee, which consumed my time.

I would not have talked about my past, if you haven’t had asked your childish questions about my origin.

Why have I sat on you playing that game of boiling emotions and eggs in the morning three times and again?

I hereby pronounce: You are not allowed to think of me anymore. Clean your dirty mind of mine quickly.

3aprXX17

Poem: Double You Storm

Wait the coldness.
Warm winds blew you in my sight.
With easy word and heavy meaning you flew by.
Why didn’t I see? Wisedom?
Was it me to bring in complexity?
Way down – the world is a stumbling lion
With sharp teeth, tidy skin and great flavour.

New world’s wizardry!
Want to join you without further interception.
Warnings and magical wants within.
Who am I to act stupid?
Weirdly we are vanishing in one world.

01aprilXX17

Poem: I Hate Freedom (i)

img_2321Gosh, how I hate freedom…

Freedom of choice,
take this or that
be thin, be fat…

Freedom of work,
do or do not
spend time with stuff…

Freedom of love,
share your emotions
out of an bottomless bag…

Freedom of mind,
Struggle of life
or easyness of returning…

Gosh, how I hate freedom
and the feeling
of regretting
nothing. (i)

Four Poetry Pieces Written These Days

Weekend Clouds.

Slowly the clouds
Travel down your body
I reflect myself in
Your sweet bellybutton.

Tie a knot
In my soul as a reminder
To return to life
After satisfying you.

Weekend clouds –
They smooch.
We observe and replay,
Silently condensing.

Emotional underwater

Ruins of a fortress
Dressed in green.
Algaes screaming
For a rotten poem.

Dressed in waves
Dolphins shout out
Hearable sounds
In every direction.

Can’t you be quiet
Like water in the eye
Of the storm?

In a ocean of kisses we sunk in each other’s past. These wounds of yesterday melted from our bodies like icecream we were collecting with our mouthes. We are cruel suns. Let us be dirty angels and praise Dionysos with our touches. May others judge our easyness. Let us drink the bitter vine of sorrow with a smile they call maniac. Let us await the day without pains as weird entities, still alive like a cat someone follows silently.

looking for something

looking for something
first level
consumption
burns daily
struggle and
darkness
of work.

looking for us
it’s healthy
to be egoist
and loose
oneself
in tears
of joy.

looking for love
we are
searching for
a mountain peak’s
blue flower
to guide us
to death.

looking for sense
through doors
of perception
ring
of the nibelungs
red dragon
within
a fire.