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Admiral Mahic Poem
Nations and nationalities, you are not chocolate,
you are the sweetest Jam cooked from bitter labour!
You are the original egg, the supreme cause of war and peace!
You are the homeland of the rising sun and moon.
You are the cameras recording
from all angles the smashed egg. You know everything,
but have no one to add it all up,
so I'm glad that you're both there and not there,
I see you and I don't see you.
Nations and nationalities,
self-love is the caries of the soul.
What enterprise of violent death
wants to remain unpunished?
Nations, have you inquired of each other's health?
Have you dreamt of a homeland
where the sun and moon do not rise,
a homeland without the vain pride of the envious,
a homeland without sexual gymnastics,
a homeland without boxing money,
have you dreamt of the homeland as a full glass
of love with no jealousy?!
Long live the full glass of love without jealousy!
Copyright © Admiral Mahic | Year Posted 2015
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Admiral Mahic Poem
Someone has pulled me out of the grass
Because I had fallen
From a black branch.
O sweet! O wild!
The cats are evil here!
O am an ugly little bird – with my soft beak
I keep pecking at the running brook
And I screech when at someone
Bruuised by the brute force I look!
My wings still cannot fly
But I love to travel.
My little feet I can hardly raise.
Restraining my wild little shudders
I feebly into the sky gaze.
I do not want to be in the nest
In which darkness keeps me warm.
Alone and all my own
Weak and strong,
I remain out, in the storm!
Copyright © Admiral Mahic | Year Posted 2015
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Admiral Mahic Poem
This is where God breathes! Here is
the mountain wellhead that cannot believe
our bodies are drenched in darkness.
Drops of water burning bright like verses from holy
books.
Here my heart smiles at
Goethe's heart, like a sun at a sun when they meet
in the precipices of the universe.
I was born to experience motion, to undulate like the sea
in a dream, to absorb everything with my soul. What do I know of the death
of the body. What of Swiss wellheads. What of this village
Lauterbrunen. What of nude virgins. What of war. But my
feeling I know. It keeps up stalks at the edge of a cliff.
I step into the shade of a mountain wellhead
that told me how after death all family relations are severed.
Here love is simple, for there is no single universe. Many
universes are jolted into motion. Rooms. The universes are rooms! Vanity is
shut up in the rooms. And I beneath the waterfall of the worlds.
Dead hands are no longer
dead here. Hands grow out of the water, the blue
in the sky. Sleep. Drift. Do not count the drops.
The water is too good.
Copyright © Admiral Mahic | Year Posted 2015
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