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151 · Nov 2024
The Moon & the Pines
Fey Nov 2024
Wondrous porcelain above,
the pines have felt your touch beyond
and in the woods we sing –
of ephemeral, heavy spring.

© fey (09/11/24)
Fey Aug 2020
tend me like a succulent plant
let me get accustomed to
a place with more than just
an ephimeral hint
of a sunny view.

© fey (18/08/20)
Fey Oct 2020
i am just that kind of person
leaving flowers in your mailbox
with imaginary words engraved
in each and every petal,
utterly afraid,
because our language could not fathom all the feelings
i captured outside of my tongue as
some kind of endorphine induced knee kicks
lost in my butterfly-conquered abdomen

i am just that kind of person
slow dancing in the dark like
your silhouette is right beside my
worn paper-back stories of Erich Maria Remarque
and i know how silly it sounds when i say
that even your shadow is exclusively unique
inbetween the light cracks of the late October evening sun

i am just that kind of person
that wants to capture the corners of your mouth
inside an empty jar to hang around my neck
because i want to be the only person
being able to say "I wore your smile right above my heart,
like rose on titanic with jack on the promenade deck."

i am just that kind of person
because i could not be anyone else
beside you.

© fey (26/10/20)
this is utterly cheesy and i am not even in love

song inspiration "elizabeth - beautiful baby"
145 · Jun 2024
A Land of Light and Shadow
Fey Jun 2024
In a land of poets, thinkers too,
Where words resound, both deep and true,
Where spirits shine, with gleaming hue,
In Weimar, Heidelberg and Rhine anew.
Where forests whisper, rivers glide,
From Alpine heights to the sea’s side,
Where cities grow, where markets bide,
And bridges grace the Spree with pride.

But beneath all the glitz and striving,
A shadow grows, cold and conniving,
A poison seeks our hearts depriving,
A hate that sets divisions thriving.
The stranger, who as guest has come,
With hopeful gaze and weary thumb,
Feels the unwelcome, harsh and numb,
The chilly breath that words become.

Where once diversity was hailed,
Where neighborly strength always prevailed,
Now fear and anger have assailed,
A ghost that in the streets has wailed.
Remember we, what we once were,
A land being built by hands together,
Through hospitality, we once were sure,
In brotherhood, a bond to weather.

Let us raise our voices high,
Against the hate that seeks to pry,
For a united life to vie,
For humanity and a hopeful sky.
For Germany is not hate and split,
Not fear and enmity’s dark pit,
It's the power of reform unlit,
It’s the bridge to times that fit.

A land of light and darkest hours,
That always sees the morrow’s flowers,
In us, in love's enduring powers,
There blooms the hope, there springs the towers.
So let us stand, so let us fight,
For a united land, in unity's light,
For all people, far and near,
For peace and freedom; humanity clear.

© fey (14/06/24)
143 · May 2024
To whoever dares to dream
Fey May 2024
How do you call the urge to sleep on a cozy picnic blanket in the summer evening's warm breeze, with nothing but the blue of cornflowers and the crimson red of poppies to keep, gently swaying in the wind? Tender fatigue claiming your eyelids; those strong and lively limbs of yours that swept you of the highest hills and lowest of steeps, the sweetest scents of fauna heavily threading the silk of air, lingering there? And maybe there could be someone next to you you love or maybe not, maybe it's just the thought of laying there for the bare velvet sky to swallow you whole, right where the pinkish blush of sunset fades behind the dimple of stars, ready to unfold.

© fey (05/05/24)
Fey Jun 2024
In the floral trio of the noble honeysuckle,
a honeydewed sound unfolds in your place so subtle;
and when the cat warms its mosaic fur's bundle,
the carpenter bee's bold hum sparks 'midst magenta blossoms humble.

Midnight-black violet cascades,
in its mien, the feline face, serene and staid;
the last ice palaces would here ignite,
as dragonflies rose from jagged winter heights.

© fey (06/06/24)
135 · Mar 2020
nom de guerre
Fey Mar 2020
sometimes
i expect people to be mind readers
because isolating myself inquires
friends to notice my absent features.

right?
well. not really.

is it too much to ask
if i am okay or even ALIVE?
sometimes people tend to hide behind
their shallow social media disguise

and i am sick of it.

morever,
i am sick of feeling redundant
unloved and absolutely angry about
experiencing an inner abundance.

that mental illness is giving me a hard time
because lacking of serotonin means
to struggle daily with a weird kind of paradigm

meaning that
despite people telling me that they do love and care,
i will never believe them because
from the very moment they share
that same feeling with someone else
i want to get a nom de guerre
and quickly travel to god knows where.

© fey (08/03/20)
135 · Aug 2024
Learning to warm cold hands
Fey Aug 2024
It's a dark place again,
where humans lay their 9 to 5 hands
on concrete dreams for them to dare plan
but never to achieve,
for even a glimpse of a moment,
for the fracture of a canvas with no end.

© fey (16/08/24)
135 · Feb 2020
two friends
Fey Feb 2020
there were once two friends,
while the one lacked of love
the other felt it too deep
so it burned him out
and he was incomplete.

two sides of a coin and yet
two kindred spirits indeed
the one holding too tight
the other fading in light speed
to a place of constant night
she could not visit.

Despite their differences, both were lost in the slumber of the unknown
she was too eager too find something, uncertain that she was outgrown
of the feeling, she eternally longed

he, on the contrary, wanted those feelings to vanish,
the once tender and gentle touch
had left him famished
there was not a single thing sating his everlasting hunger,
so he wandered aimlessly,
attacking and devouring anything that
soothed the wild and angry hunter.

there were once two friends,
both were tricked by love,
in similiar
and different ways.

© fey (28/02/20)
135 · May 2024
Our way with things
Fey May 2024
I have my way with words,
while you draw moonlit circles
around my tell-tale heart
in the fading highway streetlights.

You have your way with hands,
firm, yet gentle like
a rose with steady thorns;
tucking away those pesky hair strands of mine.

I have my way with distance,
a star whose light long died
but never ceasing to mesmerize
those who dare gazing at the velvet night sky.

We both have our way with meek,
yours soft to the touch; rain on burning wounds,
mine a sharp long knife, smooth across your cheek,
as both we longingly complete our long forsaken muse to keep.

© fey (26/05/24)
134 · Feb 2020
what is love?
Fey Feb 2020
is it a tender embrace
or more like a blazing storm?
The feeling everyone craves,
including myself,
called "love".

in many stories and myths it seems
to be the one and only impression
one would describe as a pleasent dream,
so fierce and full of undisclosed passion.

but I am certain, quiet eager even
that I won't gather any experience
because "love" these days means treason,
lust, greed and above all

self-indulgent obedience.

I would rather idealize it forever,
to remain an ignorant and loveless bystander.

© fey (24/02/20)
129 · Jan 18
I turned in sick today
Fey Jan 18
I don't want to go to sleep.
Tomorrow whets its work day claws,
my chore doubling faults reach ankle deep–
I am a ****** up, tongue-tied government sheep;
in capital letters
MY MOUTH DRIFTS TO SLEEP
as we were taught to be silent
in those capitalist dreams.
as we were taught
not to
speak

© fey (17/01/25)
126 · Aug 2020
starlight necklace
Fey Aug 2020
i once made you a necklace with starlight in its core,
but its shine has died a long time ago,
before it even had the chance to be worn.

© fey (17/08/20)
124 · Apr 15
The rain of Berlin
Fey Apr 15
Have you seen the rain in grey Berlin today?

Above the cherry blossom's egg shell trees
where we
engaged in critical ideas at three;
pure white thoughts rippling beneath
miasmas in the asphalt creeks,
primordial, yet still so meek.

The city lights ate hopes with these
canine teeth from West to East,
fluorescent mouth to feed.
Still I am at ease;
about remaining crumbs to keep;
at the border of our fading sleep.
Am I a sheep?

I saw the rain in grey Berlin today,
tomorrow it may be too late.

© fey (15/04/25)
123 · Apr 18
Life
Fey Apr 18
I want to
sleep under the rainy cacophony of spring,
feel how
life returns to its buds in one graceful fling.
Life.
Are you here with me still?

© fey (18/04/25)
123 · Mar 2020
words unspoken
Fey Mar 2020
words from long ago, unspoken on my tongue,
merging to silence on my wary taste buds,
vaporizing the breath i fiercely held in my lungs

i see myself unable to still remember them.

© fey (04/03/20)
122 · Feb 2020
longing
Fey Feb 2020
There is a longing in my heart.
I want a piece of the setting sun,
in my broken ribcage to be a part
of and let my thoughtful worries run.

Away.
Away.
Far away.

© fey (7 weeks ago)
122 · Nov 2024
Veil of November
Fey Nov 2024
A heavy stillness drapes the morning,
as if the world exhaled and forgot to breathe back in
the lifted veil.

Fog's gathering her memories, thick and unhurried,
softening edges, obscuring distance,
turning familiar streets into corridors of gray; silencened »memento mori«'s.

Trees rise as ancient monoliths,
their branches reaching, half-dissolved,
shadowlike, shape-shifting forms,
echoes of themselves in muted twilight –
soft and broken, changing ties.

© fey (09/11/24)
112 · May 2024
Maybe I'll be safe
Fey May 2024
There the sublime clouds drift swiftly,
in a sense were the white rearranges
the future to a distant storm that hits me
and whatever on its way might changes.

I gather the moss, moist around the edges
of where my head lays still and longing,
I gather despair where the butterfly catches
the ranging motion of insects foreboding.

I tried to stay around the scorching sun,
its rays even illuminating the darkest of shades,
maybe I'll stay safe and sound on the longest of runs
life unmistakingly sends towards its hidden fates.

Maybe I'll be safe
in this cornflower-blueish maze
where the periphery of its vigilant gaze
skirts the tiniest bit of hope towards my way.

Or maybe not.

© fey (20/05/24)
111 · May 2024
How strange
Fey May 2024
How strange, the silvery strands of rain,
tuck against the ***** canopies forlorn,
the sky an unwritten paper-white
and I
feel it slipping; the control of life (I ought to keep)
as droplets keep dripping and writhing,
the starless night keeps spinning.

They keep talking about
the things to do after graduation,
as if
life is always this mundane line of time we're facing,
never stagnating, always wailing
in the distance, its heavy alarms not changing.
**** this societal construction,
virtually leaching, draining, money keeping
capitalist ******* we're never willingly leaving
behind.

How strange, the silvery strands of rain,
the only thing real, the only honest feeling
of mine.

© fey (18/05/24)
110 · May 2024
The stranger's home
Fey May 2024
I keep the monsters at bay today,
Their future claws on my peripheral view.
The clouds are swelling in a distant gray,
As life hints me to this uncanny hue.

My eyes searched for God today,
Not in a way people keep praising about,
More like how bees know where to lay
Their small and delicate tenants; hinting no sound.

I let go of sorrow today,
As the breeze carried the chatter of birds astray.
And as the last rays of sunshine wandered along,
I carried my ****** home. I carry it home.

© fey (19/05/24)
110 · May 2024
The aisle of carrots
Fey May 2024
As I kept my head down on the meadow,
all the murmurs of the bugs were speaking,
unintelligible syllables, the air in afternoon's glow,
and in the distance birches creaking.

You were striking mid-town errands,
the pace of life kept men at bay,
but you froze at the aisle for carrots,
thinking them as alien bouquets.

Instead of roses you collected
those orange flowers at that aisle,
so not alike them, disconnected
but the thought of them brought you a smile.

Me picking on that bundle carrots,
for my pesky, haughty parents to stare at,
as if you were to gave me flowers,
as if we had our own agreement,
in these secret after-hours.

© fey (26/05/24)
Fey May 11
I'd rather
sway in the paradox waltz of myself, alone–
dance in the caleidoscope mazes; forlorn,
than mind where my big, dream-shaped steps intervene with yours–
those reality-driven conformist labels, your god-fearing pose;
keep track of all the nuances we're intermingling with,
just to make you comfortable.

I'd rather be
my forever overdose.

© fey (11/05/25)
48 · May 24
Delusion Wears My Name
Fey May 24
You dreamed me in candlelight,
soft edges, no shadow, no spine;
a shape to fill the hollows
of your unfinished self.
Not a woman,
but a whisper of one.

You named me gentle before I spoke,
kind before I doubted,
yours before I breathed.

I stayed quiet while you wrote
the story you wanted me to live in;
a love with no clauses,
no agency, no weight.
A devotion with doll-joints,
pliant and smiling.

But I was never a mirror.
I cracked the glass
by simply being real.

You called it betrayal
when I stepped outside the frame.
You wept for the ruin
of your castle of mist
and blamed the wind.

But I was not the storm.
I was the truth.
The quiet, unbeautiful, necessary truth.
I never left you.
You just never saw me;
only your hope
wearing my skin.

© fey (24/05/25)

— The End —