It nods and curtseys and recoversWhen the wind blows above,The nettle on the graves of loversThat hanged themselves for love.The nettle nods, the wind blows over,The man, he does not move,The lover of the grave, the loverThat hanged himself for love. Nov 24, 2024 - Fabian Biese>
EpitaphDen Tigern ertrann ichDie Wanzen nährte ichAufgefressen wurde ichVon den Mittelmäßigkeiten. Nov 24, 2024 - Fabian Biese>
So it's off with the shellsuit and on with the Armanis,Bring out the champagne and the caviar sarnies Nov 24, 2024 - Fabian Biese>
unless you're the lead dog the view never changes...mercy out does justice every time:always find your way back home/ Nov 24, 2024 - Fabian Biese>
Contemporary poets got so obscure that poetry kind of fell out of favor, Nov 24, 2024 - Fabian Biese>
you told me onceabout how they usedto build whole city statesout of poemshow everything you see hereis made out ofthe bones of dreamshow having a stiffdrink with lorca meantyou had to writeeverything down right awaylately the words justwon’t come Nov 24, 2024 - Fabian Biese>
Nobody reads poetry anymoreSo who the hell are youI see bent over this book? Nov 24, 2024 - Fabian Biese>