"Inspired in Berlin" is a little window in to my world. It contains clear, and sometimes muddy, streams of thought, poems that crawled out of the abyss, and the ones that flew in from far away planets. It also contains ways for us to connect, for practical matters as well as spiritual ones. I appreciate you staying in touch and reaching out. Don't be a stranger, stay a little, take something with you, and feel free to share with others.
Words are such crude tools. Pretending to know things. By name, definition explanation What would the world look like? If we had no words, I think that’s how it used to be. Sounds, gestures, cries. Intonation, the movements. We would use our whole bodies. Words can only hope to
Blood turns into rock Rock holds the fire And bursts forth with water Then is the lover’s thirst quenched Elements morphing into each other Tasting the infinite Only to be forgotten And remembered over and over again.
I know what you’re up to, Sending signals buried deep in dreams, I know exactly what it means, When I can’t remember your exact words, And search through the day, Fishing for details, It’s a neat game we’re playing, Hide and seek with parts of me,
Berlin Berlin, You make me shed my skin, You make the losers win, You turn water into gin. Berlin you dirty little bitch, You’re no goddess, just a witch, You pretend to be so high and rich, And blame your sorrows on cosmic glitch. You go throw around your
driving fast, driving slow, moving on, letting go, Seat check, rear view, set the heat, up the radio, driving fast, driving slow, moving on, letting go.. glasses on, looking fine, hit the padel, check the sign, look again, one more time, check the lane, re-align, driving fast, driving slow, moving
