What it means…

Isn’t it strange how the big ideas are triggered by…simple things.
While writing an email to a befriended musician in New York I realized…what poetry is to me.
After they denied me permission at music school in Wernigerode (still a beautiful town in mid-Germany) I set out to satisfy my artistic heart. I kept singing along, with different  intentions until I ended up with poetry.
I was not allowed to see my life through music but through poetry hmmm poetry however is not a substitute…only a different angle on art…perhaps! it is time now to move on to another angle…learn to combine them… for the sake of a broader picture.
I want to see every artist settled in his talent! Nowhere else.

Again I woke early…bleeding out half my intestines I lay awake until eight. Then the big ”fun” trucks of the Olympic torch parked in front of the house, six men in shorts jumped out and began playing volleyball for half an hour. I was far from watching the torch runner. In the end I ran only from the music, got dressed and sat by the sea, away from the crowds to wait for the pier to crash underneath the heavy weight of hundreds of people. Well, nothing went wrong for now…a coffee calmed my mind but not my belly.

The crowd divided at the pier…most passed by behind me and I thought of how you would have never sat there with your back to a dozen strangers. I enjoyed looking away, the fear of being stabbed underneath the too bright reflection of sunlight. Police gathered by the narrow lanes, even on sea….just in case someone might grab the torch worth over a hundred thousand pounds and escape swimming the 25 miles to France.

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