I'm anonymous! No autobiography. Georg Trakl did write a poem called "Helian". It's an abstract beauty. Maybe dangerous.
Poem: 28
What is a poem worth? Cold water Clean
A hand In gesture beam
Resurface a dream Find it gleam find it gleam!
Poem: 27
Does the heart beat Or is is strung
Fear eats the soul The heart beats a war drum
The soul eats fear The heart is strung
Rising and falling Firmness in fluidity Consciousness has begun
Poem: 26
Press this against that and make another Letter, picture, something new Though they say reproduction: Each is each it's own
Which mind from this will awaken? Again and again If the work is made with the right heart
Poem: 25
My heart and your heart White today fluttering The sun is brighter now The birds are more awake See them fluttering in the grey grasp Winters iron fist frozen tight Release me from your bind Our heart fluttering White as snow drifting drifting In the light
Poem: 24
I don't remember Whose hair it was But the curls were tight Clung to the skull With might
It was a woman And I admired
Me with my dull bun Hair twisted torqued and strung Au natural a chemical never sung In my hair margarite My hair your sorrow clung
Poem: 23
I woke up with the morning frights Sweating shaking pure blitz fear Nothing is right All is asunder
A shoe A letter A sweater
What will be there If I look in the mirror glass? Who will face me? In this dark
Poem: 21
A ghost sun High strung Seeing us through the night
"A religion in my head" Makes me wish I were dead or fully fully alive Whiteness is the coldest color And I am implicated
Poem: 21
Forgive me for weeping When my mind turns to creeping The sea of my eyes Springs from soul pain
The body knows such a thing exists The soul: Even though we falter and falter and falter To think of it correctly
I too snarling in contempt At something that seems nothing But a suggestion
That state of vague presence Is an identity stolen through the back door You runs fast and furious with the invisible loot--a history of religion-- Capturing the weaker ones
White rabbits in the snow With a design not meant to be explicit But trusted in the deep sea of yourself Silent but surging strong
Poem: 20
Breath that golden light Breath with all your might Pull it in that nectar Golden again and blue So right, so absolutely right! For life
Perfect gleaming golden streaming air We share in the blue silver
Without you I would be a rag doll Of a thing Will less Golden globes in the sphere I bow before your feet
Poem: 19
"Why do we get angry at each other anyway?" She laughs like my bird escaping to freedom
Yes why. Except how horrible if we didn't. No surprises no demises of what is already dead no spring to joy ahead
Investigate your head
He said "its a cliche But how can you solve a problem with the mind that created it?"
Idiot! What else are minds for but to solve their own problems. Yes I know I know it's not worth getting angry about The struggle of that responsibility
That joy ahead
Poem: 18
Bam bam Shoot me dead A hundred halos Above a head
Shoot my hesitation Shoot my habitual desires Shoot my meanness Shoot my fears
Bam bam
Poem: 17
It was morning And I was in bed When the sound of struggle Came from the chimney
A ferocious beating of wings And a bird emerged Where fire should be
Blue black slick Clean eyes gleam Whap, rap, tap Wings
Alive! And something gentler filled the room And I leaped out of bed
I flung open the garden door The bird flew free
Poem: 16
Anything wet Is not here now Outside this winter Manhattan
Locked and socked And frozen stiff Our eyes our sighs our nimble minds
Sky hung In frozen solitude
Sorrows bit Pipe dreams riffed Somber vilifying solidarity
Poem: 15
What does Zyklon B Mean to me A bitter taste a sacred waste Dying everyday
Still is the shade in the shadow Hiding from the fright From his deep life light
Poem: 14
Your heart full of glass Still beats It's as if there were a keyhole On an invisible space Between your shoulder wings What turns it on or off The willing
Last night I dreamt Of a Russian in a polyester suit 80's style, bright, big I held his aging hand His slicked back black dyed hair A government official I was sad but I wanted him
And there was the sea Churning on and on Green clean and glorious
Poem: 13
Again I woke up Crying Light streaming through Windows glass iron gate
The sound of the vacuum Soul crushing and senseless A patch of golden light Near a door hinge
One solution to the madness is play 6 & 7 again Being led By a sound structure
Each pain resolved Never repeated but drawn through Mourning
Poem: 12
Wind whirled White twirled Snow swirled
Father Your smoke no longer Curls
Above my head The book you have read The life we have lead
It's better to suffer the injustice Of quitting Then crying over the dead Father forgive me
White snow winding
Poem: 11
Listening to Beethoven 6th and 7th Sounds like battles tonight
One part is untouched Can you guess which? Listen gently
Poem: 10
Softer I remember the poplar fluff How it comforted me As I refused my own language
Snow in the summer
I walked and walked and walked Attended my lessons In the vast blue domes But barely talked to my beautiful foreigners
Observing my strange sad surrounding Glorious aching littered with light Incense
I'm seeking what is missing I hear the alarm:
I will return Impulsive and brightly We have a lot to learn