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Poem

this non conformist city
breathes a calm but edgy air
through gaps in the graffiti 
and the street art everywhere

its face is sometimes brutal
but its heart and soul seem not
and it walks a sexy diverse walk
that’s cold yet somehow hot

(but I know I’m getting older
when those fun thoughts in my head
reject the swinging KitKatClub
for KitKat bars instead)

and all those wearing AirPods
sipping hot drinks on the go
pass tourists taking boat trips
slowly going with the flow

while the 'high tea' of a bratwurst
served from food trucks on the street
is eaten at tall tables
en plein air without a seat

and just like high end stores at home
the windows dress up nice
displaying bling that's priceless
- as it’s shown without its price

note too that no one jaywalks here
by crossing roads at will
not even during rush hour 
when the traffic’s standing still

and when it comes to bridges
here’s a fact that crossed my mind:
there are more here than in Venice
and in Amsterdam combined

and by saving time by taking trams
that move berlin about
we spent time taking time in parks
where locals take time out

while the aiming and the shooting
by the wall towards the west
was just us aiming cell phones
shooting selfies with the rest.




but the death camp films and clothes we saw

of the many that were killed

brought tears that drowned a silence there 

for the blood that humans spilled

and I cannot start to comprehend

the minds of those who kill

and just because I went there

- and just because I stood there

- and just because I wrote this

doesn’t mean I ever will.

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