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A living legend of lunacy and love

soft hearted
man of the world


cold hearted

booking subscriptions for
helter skelters
sliding on a procentual basis
into the defensive but
lost forever

selling the soul to
the devil wearing a
a green
no jacket, no,
never that

totalization of
feelings of love
and worry
the melancholic
a mediatory mediator
totally mediocre
with the back to the wall

having learnt to laugh
and having stolen the wisdom
of the moon,
selling the witch a
vacuum cleaner,
siemens, of course

the cliffs of dover:
never having seen them,
but sometimes, at the bar,
strategically placed
with comrades of a
similar mind


verbal adventures: the
possibility of discovering
new continents
no more just countries;

continents upon continents

declaring war
upon matters of detail
visionaries have been called up,
dreamers, the mad and others
the transual of all transuals
no one cares where to

childish the wenzel,
and so trusting,
his own personal drunkard

but drunk

ecological insight of
the present time
bio-dynamical biographies

walking across lakes:
a matter of honour,
swimming lessons

soft hearted
a man of the world,

implanting thermometers
into the hidden heat,
employing xerox machines
as butlers at home,
and renting bitches on heat
to the army

jaguar would never run
with a tiger in
its tank

loves a discussion, but,
when loosing the thread
adapting croquet as
a proclamation of
the principles of existence

sometimes cold hearted
always childish
seldom calculating

to discover the depth
of the feminine soul
without using a breathing apparatus,
releasing lagunes into the open sea
and to discuss the reasons of one's
existence with the mountains
who have never answered
a short, erotic distance
from the fencers rapier

always lending the philosopher
an ear
but blowing raspberries at
the bureaucrats

sometimes, at dusk,
there is self-made fear
for supper
but afterwards, around midnight,
the mind takes to the wing
and glides over the oceans
of time: a time never to be realised

my god wenzel
such strength in your own name
a person of christian faith
and so strong

a scholar

using the power of fantasy
to overcome tiredness,
when on the balcony of success,
always retaining the right
for a withdrawal if necessary

flying into the sun
never having heard of
but to fly onwards
into a world of uncertainty
and now:

to tempt the golf balls
to fly by swinging the
clubs in a moderated
application of minimum physical effort

a man of the world




feeling apart
but never "abartig"

defining the simple
with a
of worlds

no, never a teacher
but always absorbing
having understood the name
of his talk-show partner,
to retell, relay
and with respect repeat
in the manner of
the simplest of the


a modern day buddha
with a heart of gold
forbidden to atheists
but available to all

always sitting still
continuosly moving around
a carousel of life
sometimes "on",
sometimes "off",
but forever apparent


My love

I thought I'd meet Jesus
when I entered The Philippines
I walked through the nightmares of hope
and cancelled appointments with the dentist
of my dreams

I wore no armour
I had no gun
my mother had told me
I'd rather go blind
than looking into their eyes

Monday morning
I took the lessons
my jealousy went bankrupt
and my pride sailed somewhere

I asked Mary-Ann for the way
to the basket of hope
she smiled her smile
and directed me to the future of love

my testines revolted
and my skin turned into craters
of desperation

I asked
what is the meaning of life

she laughed

her teeth
covered the ignorance of last year's prediction

I came down to my feet
I was hoping for revelation
I was stupid

Mother - I do not ask for the meaning of life anymore

I just tremble because of my thoughts
and meaning lies in the pregnancy of

I wonder through the alleys of my needs
the trees have lost their leaves
and the beast in me
is forgotten and buried in
the caves of permeating lust

I love you
I said

but my words
got lost
in the chips
that take care
of her
hearing advice

my love simmers
and her ears
listen to someone
who has
more power
than me

my love
my precious love
my love

For the woman absent

I was washed
to the beaches
of your eyes

the winter sun
wrapped you
around my nerves

I tried to walk the sidewalk
my feet did not respond
I gave up

I am here
around my

and simultaneously
of love

my skin

My doubts

Stevie Wonder sang
I was made to love her

my question is simple:

why was I made
to love you?

The Orchid

While the rose

reaches out for traitors

the orchid flowers

for the disciples of life


The darkest hour

fetches the light from somewhere

Gimme the torch.

What a line

Loving is the ultimate disease
I get captured by my emotions
run like a kangeroo through the night-hours of the day
and get busted like any other criminal
by the mind-police

Hours later
when the sun rises
I feel the pleasure of Nirvana
not the rock-band
but equally rocking

My body dissolves under warm water
and my mind concentrates on concrete

This is
what they
want us
to be

Sweet cries

Your sweet cries
travel through my mind
and let me fly again
to the sun

It's hot up here
but I'm not afraid of dying
because you hold me
oh so tight

The geranium spreads its wings
over my body
and the candle light
shows me the way to the paradise of your scent

The warmth of your sweet cries
cautiously touches my soul
in the middle of the night
I find myself in tears


lores are lac's life
and her life is a lore
of rising to the sun
and not leaving
her sisters and brothers
behind in the darkness
of zero-lore

that's lac
living in
fourteen generations
her way

when the Creator calls
she's there to report:

Creator, I talked to the water
I nurtured the flowers
I prayed for the salmon
I cherished the plants
I loved the wolf

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Copyright © by Eberhard Wenzel, 1997-2001