Poems


the strenght, the cold, the belief of knowledge,
you can raise your stattued lies, and hide its cracks from damage
yet behind unspoken, they will remain still and small,
and he shadows over them from a tower black and tall
for earthquakes, thundering storms, the weak need courage,
but a true mastermind can see through any carnage
only when all mountains move together, will his stattue fall,
and even then, you can be sure, it won’t be any dull
Yet the words are still unsaid
Oh how I wish you were dead


the rush, the glare, the hatred,
like a bull bathing in a river painted red
„You think I’m funny? You think I care?
I’ll see your true smile after I strip bones bare!”
around his mountain, scarcely they tread,
dreading when he comes, he’ll shake one’s corpse undead
„Their pathetic posture, their featureless face,
how dare they lie things which never been theirs?”
Yet the words are still unsaid
Oh how I wish you were dead



broken, trapped, a lost echo in the stone
he lies bound in an empty theatre’s floor
his play is over, the rest all left, but this time they didn’t just make him mute
they broke his instruments, and trapped one in him with the pressure of a boot
and in the vacuum in front of the flute is often a forced groan
„The fact that I came here willingly hurts more than their scorn”
and the stone is pushed ever deeper by the laughter of the brute
and no one will ever again hear the sound of his broken, empty flute
Yet the words are still unsaid
Oh how I wish you were dead


compression, silence, the crumbling of a frame,
the dripping blood sooths the searing pain
a whip lashes, the leash presses,
all desires their balance outmatches
as the lithe form squirms under reality’s reign,
he can finally enjoy the feeling: being in vain
tearing pressure, held by force, it passes,
surely it’s not just from gray guesses
Yet the words are still unsaid
Oh how I wish you were dead


the truth, the feared, the fruit for the ones who dared,
outnumbered and outlanded, independence he declared
flies, byes, ties, rhymes, always such a hassle
tears, joy, need’s toy, he likes them best to shuffle
is the pain fake or real „What does it matter?”
„Dinos walked on pebbles!”... then I guess the...both?
no stops, rigged invites, otherwise bad things they’d say, go faster, faster, faster
in the clouds we can still hold the play, they’re hard to hammer, shatter
Yet the words are still unsaid
Oh how I wish you were dead


A lock, a door, restless desperation
Once seen, there’s no use for all the preparation
It just stands there calling, taunting, halting
And the handle thrills with an unearthly sensation
Why won’t you just open?!
Oh wait... you already are...click...and the room is empty
And the words are still unsaid
Oh... how I wish... I were dead