I close the fairy tales
sticky jelly in my diary.
A lie serving as a Deutschmark
fled away in the wound...
Little red riding hood
is no longer in the mood
for human kind ...
She begs for a dose of nightmare
in front of the empty barricade...
The Rhine's eyes roll tears of lead
and a mix of mawkish lieders ...
Amadeus is going to have tea at the Hitler's
and Ludwig is so deaf that he thinks
h'es playing the drum ...
My dear Richard ,the twilight of the gods
turns into a tetralogic farce !
The factory has closed and Mercedes
no longer knows what to do
with her sub-saharian sons .
So she has untrusted them to the caliphate...
'' It was better before ! ''
said the ancient ,cultivating bitter regrets
about Boris Becker or Gerd Müller ...
And then grandpa will take a nap
among the living with dead souls...
That what nostalgia is ...
I meet the veiled gaze of a somali princess
who doesn't know the lyrics to '' Sag warum ? ''
I myself only know the foggy life schedule
in horror picture show ...
To err is human to consider oneself American...
I had a dream that a guy blew up a bridge
connecting France !
Alchemy transmuting blues into Gross Paris ...
But this scoundrel became a poet
great friend of children ,
and snorring in parliament ...
No ! Really the matter of the Rhine
have become too filthy to hope
the mercy of eternity !
Will you still love me,charming Lorelei
clad in my shameful garment of walls ?
I could have been an angel
hovering over the rooftops of Berlin ...
why these reefs of a schizoid melancholy
which makes me search for my lost wings ?
-
Author:
lorenz (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: November 15th, 2025 11:45
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 11

Offline)
Comments3
Siegfried's Rhine journey is one answer but I prefer the Pilgrim's chorus.
Waow! The tannhäuser takes me to heaven !
I love this poem
An unhealed soul who still has an appointment with the hidden of domestic banality !
so many lost souls on an eternity of travel
The poem feels like a bitter and precise diagonal cut through modernity. The satire, the metaphors, the cultural allusions - everything strikes directly at a deep inner nerve.
I lost my wings in a world that pays myths with worthless currency ...
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