Home
Home
HomeHome
My pen will fill the lines,
And you will leave behind
Congestion, smell and noise;
My thoughts will lead you,
And you will rest your eyes
On contemplation in refuge;
I complete my trail in time,
And you will criticize my verse
To describe with more precision.
I will raise your praise
On your fine drawn face,
Gentle eyes and gentle mind.
The fall of your hair
Rivals whispering foils,
Both stirred in the air.
Like the leaves of the rose
Sweet pleasure bestow,
I send you goodwill.
The forms contradict,
Arrows point apart
In Socrates' Sculpture Park.
By light of a smile
The iron bars stretch,
Tensions in steel.
By warmth of a glance
Beams and chains dance
A turn in harmony.
My steps retreat,
My heart delights,
What your fingers touch,
Springs well alive.
After a long, forced separation, I see you again,
Embracing your heart, bundling, untangling your hair,
A second puberty revealed physiologically a two part
Gland, regulated by one sympathetic nervous system.
From night to night, I begin a new story,
'I am now tired and have heard this one before'.
From pole to pole, we live our independent lives,
We both work and together just make ends meet.
From end to end we grant each other freedoms
And send us kind, patient and moral support.
From youth to age, our love is a weak, fragile bond,
Our first decisions in life are basic religious ones.
Our great human love is restrained to a kiss,
We pray, may He imbue it with lasting breath.
To be alive and awake with your eyes
Is better than all time that flies.
In wind branches gently yield,
Leaves turn up a shield,
What changes? Breath: Peace.
The poem has brilliant wit,
Write another one like it.
No, - this I cannot do,
I will forget about the first
And then try something new.
Between branches of a weeping willow,
Half a hexagon above puzzle fragments,
Moon's dim haze reflects from the wall
Just over the path of my front garden,
What lies beyond the gate?
With eleven years of age, I have to ask:
What is there? − I do not know.
Which direction, what plan to adopt?
Then my actions fall into the 'you',
Giving answers, fragile or counteracting
How does inanimate matter work anyhow?
With fifteen years I have to ask again:
How do I comprehend? − But
Every new heart, a new question.
Pursuing my readings like a fad,
With nineteen years, I still have to ask,
Erring randomly along a silhouette band,
Dead between red planes of sky and lake,
At one corner: how? At the next: what?
A billboard ad, repellingly darts back:
Truth can only be found in a vision.
A body of flesh,
Disintegrated and
Fallen into dust,
Will its deeds
Remain, or its
Spirit in memory?
But after a century
The language is foreign,
The sense left obscure.
A spark of wit,
A span of life, -
The easiest forgotten, -
Has stretched a length.
With widened eyes
Looked I ahead:
The day brought
Only a few hours.
In quiet repose
Viewed I my zeals:
Now shading dusk
Is setting in.
I stretch my hand
To grasp your offer:
Your word will last
Forever.
You have a mirror
To see your face,
ou have two eyes
To see your deeds,
You have reflection
To see your thoughts.
You have two eyes
To scan the sea,
You have a boat
To cross its planes,
Your word of love
Leaves earth a point.
You have two feet
To cross a space,
You have two hands
To greet a friend,
Your have a face
o spill your fake.
How long will I speak out
And people without spirit
Retract themselves from me,
How long will I speak out
And offenders force rocks
To block and seal my way,
I will speak out as long
Away from critical aim
Man's actions widely err.
Do not vacillate, - proceed.
Do not fight your enemy with iron,
Spouting fire,
But tear his plans in the nude of light.
Speak,
If you condemn your tongue to chains,
You bury your soul forever in the grave.
Let us speak out
In the name of the Lord.
Let us make His truth shine,
Plainness and reconciliation,
Like from a wild, stormy sky
Pollutants are washed away.
Let us extend His healing hand
To the despairing, bitter and violent,
Clearing illusions of might and vain.
We speak out in His Grace,
When adding a word of Love
To our enemies too.
Come, enter through these gates
And be refreshed with mirth:
Rest from your money's fines,
Let from your friends support,
Leave from your beauty's shine.
To come in this garden, you left
All these and your flesh behind.
Help Wanted
At the gates of Your vineyard I inquire:
Is any job there, fitting my hands?
What did you learn? - Poetry.
What did you do last? - Not much.
Come, enter onto my larger grounds.
Do you see the steep hills and vines,
Do you see the dark forests beyond,
The stony wastes and pollution?
Who will work, but my servants?
Here are your working clothes:
Old shirt, pants, cap and solid shoes.
Get ready,
Here are your working tools:
Word, pen, paper and Multi Media.
Set to work,
First, where it is the most urgent today,
Where the biggest rocks need to get out:
Truth has to break through lie,
Persistence has to break through spite.
Waste cans are tossed by the wind,
Their tinkle subsides, though it blows:
‘I speak with a whispering voice,
I gently unfold your eyes
To spread out a new landscape,
Where I name plants and flowers,
I grant you solace in my palms, in peace,
My words, gestures and promise are clear:
Pass on my love to all mankind.‘
.
I am the Lord your God
To whom all things are known,
Who counts all hearts and minds.
Outside my given guidance for man
There endures no lasting life
And I will demand account
Not alone of actions, but of thoughts.
As I reveal eternal truth through love
In the unity of all mankind,
Man discerns his mind, his truth
Alone with a benefit in his heart.
Those observing an ear of corn
Will measure, plant a whole field
To feed the neighboring towns.
Those discovering a spark of beauty,
Pure in contemplation, eye and means,
Will rise, communicate to all.
Both reflections of my kingkom,
But none will hear my word,
Unless in the spirit of humility.
Transgressing my given guidance
Mirth will be broken trough lie,
Sloth besmear all thought,
Ambiguous designs self-destruct,
And words will turn into cries,
Catastrophes suffocate the planet,
And silence alone be left.
There are more stars than a dominating sun.
Far out rove my spiralling phantasies,
Their lights shine and their warmth radiate,
One day one of my hopes will be fulfilled.
Set up are systems, intellectual masks of power,
By the global players on our miniature planet
To deflect and to manipulate our expectations,
For their flow of profits to have clear sailing.
Foisted is progress as a generator of power,
By genetic toxins to program our desires,
Our long breath and strength to resist, to cry out,
Against guzzlers like our privileged elites.
What are your mental horizons, but cynicism,
What your thoughts, but crumbling like scaffoldings
Of ashes, your feelings, but snake thrown scales?
My word is the only word of truth.
Transgressing my given guidance for man,
You do not acquire lasing sustenance
And I will demand account
Not alone of actions, but of thoughts.
You have rejected everything that is divine,
None of your achievements are in my name.
What are your palaces, but black marble
Swallowing light, your progresses septic scars
Under linen, your labors adits of depravity?
You have rejected the balms of my Grace,
Choosing the delights of deceptions' grimes.
What are your institutions, but elevators from
The sutterain, your social conventions deflections
From vice, your altars plates polished mute?
Your evil practices convict you,
You release your children into sate prostitution,
You operate gas chambers as a social sport,
Having laid out your path of abominations,
With your own hands to press out your eyes,
With your own nails to tear out your entrails,
Tongues torn to mutter your pains.
In solitude
Many miles from the next housing
In the gleams of a beech wood fire,
A plain, sharp mind absorbs His lines,
Pursuing eyes of a spy mutilate the picture
To issue, 'His quiet voice has never risen.'
In desolation
Secluded from recuperating sections
In a muffled ward for the dying,
A person's breath is softening, fainting,
oxic drugs freeze the face in agony
To proof, 'His peace does not exist.'
Dehumanized in CIA gas chambers,
Labor camps of sadism and sodomy,
They moan with severed tongues,
Will these crimes be stopped,
Will people arrest their hurried steps
To expose these boils before the light.
They beg with crippled hands
To be granted a base of dignity,
Air to breathe, not being gassed,
Bread to eat, not being contaminated.
Their prayers look up to the Lord,
Their dying hopes to countries
That do not tolerate depravities,
To be set free from their chains.
These crimes of human depravity,
Gas chambers and state prostitution,
These crimes cry out to heaven
Before the ears of the Lord.
These crimes cry out to heaven,
Their permissiveness, silent toleration
Will not anymore go unnoticed
Before the patience of the Lord.
I will turn my light away,
I will condemn their evil intent,
Abandon the country to darkness
Not anymore to see its face.
In the abyss of intellectual sloth
Of human capabilities, convenience,
I will forsake forever my guidance,
Weeds to cover its towns.
Their gorges will not see the steps
Leading to my judgement throne,
Alone who walk humbly in Spirit
I gather as my peaceful sheep.
HomeHome
| |
Impressum | |
| Autor | |
| V.i.S.d.P. | Udo Frentzen |
| Adresse | Benfleet Str. 13 |
| 50858 Köln Germany | |
| Phone | 0(49)2234 3894388 |
| Fax | 03212 1008434 |
| np@no-poems.com | |
| Web | www.no-poems.com |
| Web | www.randgedichte.de |
| Web | www.bio-misuses.info |
| Urheberrecht | |
| Die Gedichte dieser Webseite sind nur für den privaten Gebrauch. Alle weiteren Rechte sind vorbehalten. | |
| |