Bandsalat im Kopf

gedichte

Andreas Skowronek

• Verlag: Books on Demand
• Jahr: 2019
• ISBN drucken:
  9783746047379
• eBook-ISBN:
  9783749443499
• Auflage: 1
• Thema: Literature
• Thema: Poetry

Eigene Gedichte von Andreas Skowronek in deutscher und englischer Sprache.

To Define Colors No.1

This morning

I receive a letter from you

And not the sun.

The windows are open.

The air has the smell of snow,

Stinging in nostrils

As the wind lifts it from the beach.

I am thinking of the Alps

Where we began somehow.

To find out the temperature

You tossed a cup of rainwater into the air.

You said:

“Our sky is green and there is no book

to tell us what it means.”

This morning with a cold blue flame

Burning down our tree’s green,

I explore the nature of rain.

The wine of our red

gets watered-down

Until it is gone.

To Define Colors No.2

56

I am color blind.

My favorite color

Is red.

The yellow highlighter

Leads me

Through the letter-traffic.

It temporarily

Releases from the pain

Of not knowing anything....

I eat a kiwi

That tastes like

Unripe toothpaste.

I am color blind.

My favorite color

Is green.

I want to go

To Redland.

Fearless

Last Saturday evening

I was walking

Towards the sun

In Woodland Cemetery.

At six thirty

A five-foot-three angel

Was still painted

With golden light.

I concentrated on the black

Huge stone cross

To avoid

Sentimentality.

The dead were whispering

In wild tranquility.

Mature olive-green voices

Were growing out of their tombs.

I left the burial ground,

Alive.

Curtain

The curtain

opens and closes.

A curtain of your blonde hair

falls in front of me

It divides me

into strips and scenes.

From time to time there is

a sudden break.

The curtain lifts.

I awake.

Butterfly or A GerMan in America

first night in New York City

initiation at the Met

Madame Butterflies

to me and touches me:

my feet, my soul

so that I do not

feel tired anymore

(so that I can

stand SRO tickets again)

so that I do not

recognize the pain

(in my feet)

anymore

and her heart becomes my heart

and her pain becomes my pain

and I become Madame Butterfly

and I guess T. S. is Pinkerton

I do not really cry;

this single tear in my eye

weighs more

than any of the tears I have shed before

because of the cultural tie

between her and me:

her Butterfly

Buddha has toilet paper in his nose

Buddha has toilet paper in his nose.

And the rain smells...

Inhaltsverzeichnis

• Widmung
• Danksagung
• Inhaltsverzeichnis
• Gespräch
• Nur eine Zigarette zwischendurch
• Gedanken über die Eltern
• Rasenmähen
• Kopf-Salat
• Schriftstellerin
• Impressionen
• Goldfolie
• Heimkommen um 3.30 Uhr morgens
• An meine Tochter
• Sterndeuter
• Ammersee
• Strand von Antalya
• Auf Dich im dunklen Mantel
• Deine Hand
• Rio Bar
• Frühling
• Ein kleiner Sommer
• Blitze
• Kalte Hände
• Tunnel
• Flugmeilen
• Herbst im Siebentischwald
• Ausflug in Paradies (in der Oberpfalz)
• Das Krähengesetz
• Lächeln
• Hängende Himmel
• Wenn der Herbst blüht
• Schnee
• Und draußen der Wind
• Glück im Spiel
• Im Japanischen Garten
• Streben nach Glück
• Fuck
• Depressionsfängerchen
• Farben-Grund
• Texte und Töne
• Film
• Nervenklinik
• Kognitive Verhaltenstherapie retard
• Schweizer Käse
• Kärnten
• Rumpelstilzchen ist fett geworden…
• Musik muss atmen
• Kreuzworträtsel oder: Noch eine Zigarette
• Nicht greifbar
• To Define Colors No. 1
• To Define Colors No. 2
• Fearless
• Curtain
• Butterfly or A GerMan in America
• Buddha has toilet paper in his nose
• Party
• In my dreams
• Museum Brandhorst
• Impressum