Nicht schlecht, Herr Specht! Sagte der Baum und fiel um.
Dream: Cute Simulation GameWhile wasting time in front of the ISP-hosted underground amusement park/university I explain to two elderly Russian women (they are surprised that I speak Russian), that against my own expectations the underground amusement park is not a rip-off and that there even is a delicious confection, which one can have for free and in unlimited quantities. I give them a piece each.
The following takes place on a small square grassland in front of the entrance to the underground amusement park. I play a game with four cute miniature people (each of them the size of a finger), who harvest wood from two trees and re-plant them after complete exploitation. They walk freely without being bound to roads. Along with wood, they collect fruit from fruit trees. I consider letting them plant two fields of crops for harvesting. Their housing and storage consists of one building made from wood only, so they probably do not require rock as a building material.
One of the people manages to get stuck on a pat
DosentomatenTomaten in Dosen
Brauch' ich für Soßen
Für Penne, Nudeln und Spaghetti
Ketschup ist eklig
Was essbares daraus zu machen
Ich brauche keine Pizzen
Ich brauch kein Glutamin
Hollari, Hollari, Hollero
Ich züchte selber Nudeln
Und esse sie dann Roh
Hollari, Hollari, Hollero
WolvesThe Howl The Night
Did Not Oppose
By Justin Borer
In the forest on this cold, misty, moonlit night.
Nature is calm and quiet with not a soul in sight.
The silence continues, nothing trying to fight.
Then moonlight shines through the trees.
The light continues to flow like a calm breeze.
Casting shadows upon the lonly leaves.
A branch snaps breaking the somber silence.
Something in the darkness moves showing its defiance.
The forest shifts reluctantly to this act of violence.
Through the shadow the moon helps soothe.
This figure has nothing to prove.
Steathy and strong it continued to move.
The figure emerged from the darkness to cast its own shadow.
Through its grey and black fur the wind does blow.
With its pointed ears every creature it does know.
The creature sat on the ground and looked at the starry sky.
He felt alone, that, no one could deny.
through its bluish-gray eyes it wondered why.
He looked up at the bright full moon.
He let out a howl and held its desperate tune.
Into the LightThe moon tonight is, simply, a white note
adrift, spinning. It patiently tracks the breeze
on the edge of genesis, floating in motes
of static. On the surface, it seems at ease.
Light filters through oak leaves and coats
its thrall, the summer heat's slow weave
through the river's margins to the throat
of the sea. Small fish leap up to tease
the moon tonight. Simply, this white note
rotates its body like thread released
from reel, alters its position over nodes
My EnglandI care not for neon lights
or garish 'stylish' clothes t' buy,
I only want the sun t' shine
in fair o' pleasant England.
I care not for new Ipads
or nipping out to take a drag,
I only want t' grab a bag
and hike in my own England.
Plastic smiles and distant hugs
I think for now I've had enough,
I only want the land I love
the moors and woods of England.
Silver bark and golden leaves
Birds sing soar in autumn breeze,
I only want the grasses green
in glowing dusk of England.
Now I'm old and still I sigh
at admirals red and foxgloves high.
Yes, I feel there's no place like
my homey fields of England.
The Maxberg Archaeopteryx
I waited in a tiny house without a light or door,
That each progressing day was slightly smaller than before,
Until I felt the sudden urge to break and struggle free.
I came into the world in only natal feathers dressed,
Among my likewise siblings in an interwoven nest,
Atop a shrub amid a land surrounded by the sea.
Each day my father came to us with smaller lives to eat,
As slowly I grew larger and my feathers more complete.
Along my longest finger formed a broad and glossy wing.
With wings to press me forward I could climb an upright wall,
And now the nest where I had dwelt was also strangely small,
And I could not ignore the larger island's beckoning.
My wings had grown sufficient to support my weight in air,
And prey could now be chased and won without my father's care.
Observing my lagoon-encircled kingdom from above,
Another hunger came to me beyond the quest for food,
To recreate on my behalf my natal nest and brood,
And prove to a companion my deserving of her love.
RooibosIf under mulch she sang a rotten
wood-like note with quiver
Nostalgic for her days alive
Surely they could forgive her
Most days it's quiet (these days it's cold)
Her bones observe the soil
But Spring is pulsing warm and gold
Teasing memories to boil
Like heated milk the liquid smell
of evening drips in branches
A honeybee who suffocates
falls near her musing ashes
"Is it wine or light strawberry?"
She asks him of the sky
Though his dead ears don't hear her query
The answer is "Like dye"
Just under mulch I hear a rotten
wood-like note with quiver
Flushing young in days alive
Of course I can forgive her
Elemental WolfI am the stellar wolf.
With eyes of amber,
Which hold fallen stars,
And that reflect the moon's glow.
I am the Inferno wolf.
With my fiery heart,
That burns for a mate.
And the passion to run free.
I am the Aquatic wolf.
With my liquid movements,
That help calm my pack,
In times of confusion and pain.
I am the Wooded wolf.
With my pine needle fur,
That stands on end in fury,
When danger threatens my pack.
I am the Aero wolf.
With my bone chilling growls,
And my light hearted howls,
That reach even the heavens in the sky.
I am the Earthen wolf.
With my sand paper paws,
That help me grip,
And rip into the earth when I run.
I am the Elemental wolf.
Though I may seem strange,
With all my forms,
I am actually one.
With one heart,
I am the wolf.
October EyesSuch gentle colors drip across your freckled shoulder blades.
A quilt of puddled watercolors soaked in auburn shades.
Spun of golden rivulets and rinsed in autumn skies,
So many endless currents swimming through your lonesome eyes.
Brushing under fingertips and over shattered songs,
Unraveling like morning glaze against my paling palms.
With beauty like October hills and hollow as the skies,
The water drops against the earth will be our lullaby.
It came in tasteful gestures on a shouldered backward breeze.
Ghosts of smiling children rocked the rusting set of swings.
Plucking yellow daisy tops, in streams the stones did sink.
While birds of cream and navy rode above a gust of pink.
The sun rays pressed their fingers through the isle of cobwebbed clouds.
Spitting shafts of sunlight lift the humming branches' sound.
The sipping of the soil weaned as dewdrops fell in threes.
In this brutte of cradled roots I lay beneath the trees.
Forest fairiesThe night covers the woods
With its black satin sky
River streams, the moon gleams
Call forth small creatures, shy
Like stars sparkle, far away
Their wings glitter 'mong the mist
Emerging from the oldest trees
Believed not to exist
Sneaking by the silver stream
Deep in the forest's clutch
Only visible in the place
That humans left untouched