Love kills

Freddy and I went to town
he sang for me all the way
this voice still takes no prisoners



You who make me inhale
make me breath out a poem

High Tide

This is all within me
Where to find peace?
Amidst the rolling space
In fear
In love
In pain
In truth
Where does the anchor fall?
What will be left of me
After the tide came in?


on the way
to my lighthouse
stumbling over passion
~ again

i carefully prepared
for being alone
gazing at the waves

calmly accepting what is
and what cannot be
all this is gone

now I am back
in the deeply red room
of wanting

“By the time you swear you’re his, Shivering and sighing. And he vows his passion is, Infinite, undying. Lady make note of this — One of you is lying.” ― Dorothy Parker

All the lies were meeting at the annual Lie Summit. Well, not exactly all the lies, but given the nature of the event, the organizer could not possibly admit this detail.
Some excused themselves, though rather unconvincingly. Naturally so, because the best excuses were not available, wanting to participate at the summit.

As usual it was held in Sucksess City, rather new and of exquisite architectural blandness.
They came in all shape and sizes. Small white lies, fighting an inferior complex-attack when seeing the more substantial ones.
“See how big they are?” the tiny ones would whisper “They made it for life.”

A group of Halftruths, all herded together near the buffet was trying to attract attention.
“Look at these poor things, let’s go over and chat with them” Some-Of-My-Best-Friends-Are-Jews said.

“No” replied Of-course-I-Still-Find-You-Attractive-I’m-Just-Tired
“I cannot stand these Half-and-Halfs!”
“You’re such a snob!” I-Did-Not-Have-Plastic-Surgery laughed, nibbling on candied vanities.

To-Be-Completely-Honest-With-You had elbowed its way between them: “Over there I-Never-had-Sexual-Relations-With is giving autographs. Still looking hot, these new moral fillers are doing wonders”.

“Shhh, quiet, the winner is being announced!”

“…..and after thoroughly evaluating all candidates, this year the Unnobel goes to a formidable push-up bra for self-esteem. It simply cannot be valued high enough, especially in our times of facebooking:


“So they had to drag this old bone out of the closet again, didn’t they find any other candidate?” I-Forgot-My-Mobile-Phone-At-Home groaned.
“You are just jealous!” Look-At-This-Mess-I-Did-Not-Vote-For…As-Pesident hissed.
“And who are you?” Phony growled “You have not even been spoken yet! Go un-like yourself!”