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Niagara Falls


	On the jump
	to nail down a word
	to measure by steps
	its limits,
	the passport
	to transgress them
	ready at hand.

	Peter Bellmond - 2004


	Being threatened by the environment,
	being threatened by oneself,
	to dive henceforth into a ditch
	that doesn't exist.

	Sylvia Reuther - 1981


	Reposing on a cloud,
	I realize - someone sits opposite to me,
	who looks like myself.
	I start to address her.
	However, only with a smile does she react.
	- And I cry!

	Sylvia Reuther - 1981

	I am going to run away from myself,
	run away,
	when I hear the brooks lisping
	about myself.

	I am going to run away from myself,
	run away,
	when I hear the winds laughing
	about myself.

	I am going to run to my death,
	to my death,
	when I hear people remaining silent
	about myself.

	Wolfgang Hermsen - 1983


	Lyrics are written
	on the OuterWalls
	of our InnerLife
	to radiate!

	Gerhard Seidel - 198x

	Pictures of Depression

	creeps an adder of pain
	into my stomach
	and hooks up firmly.
	Worms of worries degrade
	the blood,
	fatten themselves
	from my nerves.
	Viruses of mania pound
	in the temples,
	eroding reason.
	Spiders of anxiety spin nets
	of hysteria,
	where values entangle.
	Panic vultures attack the psyche,
	pair with owls of gloom,
	veiling the view,
	hope smothering.
	My quivering It
	of death wish lava.
	The last moment of bliss
	bathes in pearls
	of sweatty fear.

	Paula - 2010

	Shops set in one cast
	At pommes I line up last
	Steps up a guy like a fat ox
	Shoves me like a toy box
	My spine back in pose
	One reflex to the nose
	Bursts the skull into shambles
	Crashes into the next pane
	Showing minks
	Chinchillas and sables
	Sirens howl for miles aloud
	Police cars, officers jump about
	Wanted pommes, majo, a light
	Sit in now, hand cuffs up tight
	Am chased by docs, injections
	Unending torturous questions
	About a single second

	Heidrun-Auro Brenjo 2002 (ed.)

	There are words rich with stones,
	without tongue, without heart,
	careless, without shade
	that might hint at a light.

	There are words of wide meaning,
	which hide error and deception,
	sowing distrust, with intention
	cut deep roots into anxiety.

	There are words, which fall silent,
	Motives, goals drift apart,
	dissapear, submerge.

	Peter Bellmond - 1999 (ed.)


	My art with words
	is for the docile:
	they might be dispersed
	around knotted throngs,
	whom I can give
	some information, they
	hear it: they keep
	their shells open: they
	alone will
	the language
	without loss.

	Peter Bellmond - 1977 (ed.)

	Mute the stone
	since eternal times
	Mute the cry
	of the man in agony
	Mute the eye
	of a God far off
	at the end of time.

	Peter Bellmond - 1998

	Round like the earth,
	is the truth.
	She attracts lies
	and builds up atmosphere
	like a veil,
	pleasant and breathable.

	Matthias Schmidt - 1973

		is the name of my mother
		who I
		    from time
		    to time still
		need . . .

	   Her junger relations
	   I feel
	   		attracted to - - -

	Matthias Schmidt - 1973

	The modern age said:
	Post-modern age says:

	The day after tomorrow
	We are
	At the border
	Of time
	In quicksand
	And look back . . .

	Matthias Schmidt - 1983 (ed.)


	Touch the glas-bead-chain
	of your youth.
	Turn around
	and give the
	a few thoughts.
	Search in the mirror
	your childish laugh.
	Don't take yourself
	so dramatically serious,
	screw up a long nose
	and cry out:
	But that's me,
	an aging child!

	Jutta Onken - 2000

	Family Related

	In our museum -
	we visit it every sunday -
	a new devision has opened:
	Our aborted children,
	pale, serious embryos,
	sit there in plain glasses and
	worry about the future of their parents.
	What fate did they likely escape from?

	In our weekly -
	we buy it every friday -
	a new picture report has started:
	Children of our world,
	living skeletons, tearful eyes,
	from hunger inflated bellies,
	misused and sold babies,
	also in waste containers,
	small childre, defiled, also by their own
	parents, fixed broken for the rest of life.

	Jutta Onken - 2000

	When I
	the cold at the root of my life
	should not feel,
	the hanging end of the noose
	not remember anymore,
	you could pass judgement about me
	and easily peel my faith off my heart.
	You are stingy, false, just move
	to gain a minute advantage,
	remain but mute,
	when all people are concerned.
	You have the eyes beyond yourselves
	by television sets and illusions busted.
	Correct your own children,
	before you execute justice.

	Jutta Onken - 2000 (ed.)

	The Freedom of the Winds

	Do not defame the bells
	resounding like thuds
	at night.

	as handrail
	the good will of all

	with a vague light over steps
	street lamps on ironposts
	and sometimes sway lanterns
	the freedom of the winds
	knowing to utilize
	as starting point.

	Martin Blumenthal - 1979

	Assumptions about Daily Life

	I tear a hole
	into daily life and
	will call it
	home country
	if I will
	          late evening
	recognize it again.

	Peter Langen - 2004

	Man and his God

	Desiring to measure God's ends
	is about like
	desiring to manipulate

	Peter Langen - 2004

	worth a smile
	I wish in my
	before I leave it
	into the next

	Peter Langen - 1998


	Be glad, you don't have
	to see this anymore, Rudi.

	Your female and male friends
	have now occupied the departments.
		Not out of protest.
		Not out of solidarity.
		Not for emancipation.

	They are discussing for sure.
		Not about protest.
		Not about solidarity.
		Not about emancipation.

	They have developed themselves.
	They are dissociating themselves.
	They are marketing themselves.

	They do not remember
	past times.

	Be glad, you don't have
	to hear this anymore, Rudi.
	For your female and male friends
	You are now a terrorist.

	Miriam Rheinhard - 2001 (ed.)

	Autumn Leaves

	We walked
	through the autumn leaves
	of transition times
	God's Word observing
	who remained silent
	tracelessly mute

	Tracelessly too we walked
	not even rustling of foliage
	we were like feathers
	and didn't amount to weights
	of wilting transition times

	They have been times
	where you talked about foliage
	because of the beauty
	the beauty
	the press speaker said:
	silence is better
	because of the beauty
	the beauty
	of the golden leaves

	The trees grew mutely
	and without roots
	like condemning
	we too were rootless
	and far off from words

	We walked
	through the autumn leaves
	of transition times
	which painfully
	disintegrated in time

	Miriam Rheinhard - 2001 (bearb.)

	The Headband

	Politically I am Mr. Correctness,
	converse politely without edges,
	carry my muzzle on a straight nose
	as decent men from head to toes.

	The headband around my mane
	guards successfully my brain,
	that my language will not fail
	and woun't tip up a rusty nail.

	When from a children's book
	I read some story of old stock,
	at a few places I gently cough
	for a word to be skimmed off.

	I woun't tear iron bars in halves,
	don't wish censors to their graves,
	probe all to be safe and sound,
	else I'm stamped into the ground.

	Preferably I just shut up,
	that lets me stand up top:
	I elude the shit storm blowing
	and pangs to my worn feelings.

	Ilka-Maria - 2015

	Christmas Poem

	It snows with heavy flakes,
	the hills are white already,
	I search the child (of that night) (within myself),
	but it doesn't live here except in my childhood.

	Ulrike Stahl - 1992

	In cognito

	Intentions rise from countless notions,
		like a shoot out of darkness
		of prehistoric times,
		scarce of artefacts,
	Up to the warmth, still hidden from light.

	Intentions are unfathomable like illusions,
		like rays and shadows glide over,
		just by chance to decipher
		some human forces,
	Wandering in cognito, camouflaging, winding.

	Intentions extend into endless dimensions,
		like a bamboo bolting to the sky
		up into vast space,
		loosing past gravity,
	Giving Mars men notice of a hostile takeover.

	Udo Frentzen - 2022

 Ex affluenti

 You employ me as the manager of your daily affairs,
 I whisper to you                  my advice is abundant,
 I am reality                         to ensure your success.
 With my images you point, blend, fit, mold and work,
 I am out of life                    let me charm you.

 Let me propel you from the unconscious to the virtual,
 I call to you                              raise the magic cane,
 I am hyperreality                      to praise myself.
 With my colors you paint, lighten, stress and embellish,
 I am out of phantasy                 let me enchant you.

 But, but, it’s my ancient race, I reject logical treatment,
 I absolutely oppose                     architectural designs,
 I am flexible                               I jump across realities.
 Conceptions are distilled, served at a magician’s factory,
 Look at me                                 I am sensual.

	Udo Frentzen - 2022

	In solitude
	Many miles from the next housing
	In the gleams of a beech wood fire,
	A plain, sharp mind absorbs His lines,
	Pursuing eyes of a spy mutilate the picture
	To issue, 'His quiet voice has never risen.'

	In desolation
	Secluded from recuperating sections
	In a muffled ward for the dying,
	A person's breath is softening, fainting,
	Toxic drugs freeze the face in agony
	To proof, 'His peace does not exist.'

	Udo Frentzen - 1981

	To be alive and awake with your eyes
	Is better than all time that flies.

	Wen Notta - 1982

	Lean bars spring into foliage,
	Posingly crafted fencing the estate,
	Leading to an arched and open gate
	To show the owner's hospitality, -
	So language and each word deline
	Guard and key of the mind behind.

	Wen Notta - 1981

	You have heart and compassion,
	Your friend will remember it.

	Now a poor beggar accosts you,
	His skin and hair smell septic,
	The cloak falls loose and open, -
	Clothes are of Adam's sin.

	He spits and curses on bad luck,
	Fishes a bone from the litter
	And spends your gift on liquor, -
	Be twenty and strong again.

	Do not recoil from tatters
	Or shudder at depravity, -
	Understand and forgive,
	He will thank you for it.

	Wen Notta - 1981

	Once Adam and Eve sinned in paradise
	Once Moses handed down the law
	Once Jesus our Lord walked the earth

	See light and peace, decide yourself
	Jesus or sin, who of the two?

	Once your heart will break in death
	Once the Lord will pass your sentence
	Once his Word will hit with force

	Anonymous - 2009 (ed.)

	A pilgrim takes his staff
	And sets out, place by place,
	To reach the heavenly land,
	The Lord promised his heirs.

	Happily he anticipates the goal,
	Shoulders pressed by the cross,
	Faith demands him to carry
	And His Word points the way.

	The heavy load forces a rest,
	Exhausted he lays it on bocks,
	Saws off at the bottom center
	And proceeds with firm steps.

	The pilgrimage is light and good,
	He stands at the river of atonement
	And a brother throws his long cross
	As a dry bridge across the waters.

	His however falls a length too short
	And he calls the brother for help,
	Him: 'What part did you saw off?'
	He: 'The one of social responsibility.'

	Anonym - 2010 (ed.)

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Niagara Falls

Author Udo Frentzen
V.i.S.d.P. Benfleetstr. 13
  50858 Köln
Translator Udo Frentzen
Mail rg@randgedichte.de
Web God-Nature-Man
Web No Response Poems
Web Misuses of genetics

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