sketch pad

meine umwelt

avec moi, sans moi,

par moi

Ahh… and the tales I shall unfold

May blast comprehension if the truth be told

An ode to the masters, martyrs and whims

A satyr on life and sullied daydreams


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An orb of molten silver

In a velvet sky

Speckled with droplets

Of fire-dust.

Shadows of a mythical past

Flow across night’s raiment,

Silhouettes of a promised future

Gleam in the old man’s eye.

A dusky scene

Of omnipotence withheld,

A view of taunting pleasures

Dancing past the windows

Of the soul.

Feel the freshness of the dawn,

Watch the sphere disappear,

Gone with your dreams.

(Sep ‘91)

Lost in mind and spirit,

A wistless will-o-the-wisp

Whirlpools of fears

And confusions

A solitary gathering of shadows

Wraiths in impregnated darkness

Scared of the unknown

Involuntary steps towards the future

Pushing more into a swelled flood

Taking a handful of dust

The beginning and the end

From a bursting vaccum

Scenes of fiery beauty


Visions, hallucinations

Separating the dreamed of

The clouded truth

From the distortions of the intellect


Lost and lonely


(Sep ‘91)