Wednesday, February 19, 2014

Berlin still calling

clean streets

of gentrified blocks

with high rents and

good access to public transport

connecting you more efficiently to work

while erasing the pleasure of the unexpected

tend to fund your inner fascism

please you with commercialized entertainment

and let you march in the columns of mass egocentrism

aka consumer's individualism


but thank the walls and the paint and the holy inspiration

there still blooms the decapitation mode of art

in the streets of Berlin

Schnipp, schnapp, Rübe ab...
citation from an oral past
and off goes the head
citation from Erich Fried
whoever wants the world to stay as it is
does not want her to remain

but grandpa and grandma relax
and the walls and the watchtowers and even the grimmest building
turns story
turns pamphlet
turns cry
turns x/pression

please life/live [trademark of Anarchy]
save our earth [get human]

still there but in new use
as blooming tourist venue 
the wall of shame
the wall of death
the wall of se pa ra tion
turns earth
turns world
turns message
get human
become a proud warrior of dreams of peace and survival
support the blue sheep of your dreamscape

even if houses hang deer
float astronauts


are you







and what





Never underestimate the impact of 
on your imagiNation

no matter if there hurts a heart in your head
or the seduction of hope

and you might just find back to your liberty
of using your fantasy
to see
the (w)hole in the wall
and obviously most certainly and vividly
more than one grim reality

Say is this a picture
a photo
a painting
a girl
or a building
and don't forget to go home
says the poster
to you?

this is not a sign

this is an owl
this is publicity
these are three pyramids and their two moons
these are a catfish and a mutilated commedia dell'arte
this is yet another wall full of bricks
twice & double

::::::::BUT FULL STOP:::::::::



This is a cool hat, Simon
this is a cool roof, Simon

There are pokes on your street

& there rises a calm voice of reassurance
& rastaman speaks up in the blind angle of CCTV

the cages of your inner correction center turn dusty

turn stupid

if you leave them

can you see them as a web yet?

you were the spider
and you were the prey
and no shades of sex in it
just fascism
dumb inner fascism
that blindfolded you hostage
of your desire to function

never forget the fist
that rises from your calm waters
on every odd sunny day
full of inspiration

even if the winter hits your protest and
you stare at bubbles in the ice
like diamonds
like planets
like hopes
and eyes

can you feel the music
can you hear the caress
of an instrument
to your soul

can you feel them giving?
Bringing your mind to its hammock
giving your sense a play of waves
and golden sand

Can you feel your heart singing?
Even in the depths of this concrete jungle
when the hailstorm of function and consumption
is countered by a tag and a moment



never underestimate the role of your surrounding
and its colors
to your self
and other

but at the same time
in the same place
never underestimate the layers of paint
and nostalgia
that cover and capitalize
on old games of war
on old slogans of freedom
be sure to use them wisely
be sure to defend them rightly
and avoid the clippclapp trap
of a tight embrace
without head

is this a building or is this a trap?

is this a blog or is this a gap?


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