Archive for the ‘Writing’ Category

Autumn gently turns into winter

November 23, 2011 Leave a comment

We don't know where we are going to - but we bath in   the perfection of this moment.

Autumn gently turns into winter and the year is flowing by like a deep river into the sea.

A haze is rising from the waters which are warmer than the chilly air.

We don’t know where we are going to – but we bath in the perfection of this moment.

Categories: photo, Pictures, Writing

Do you see that bot sit

November 15, 2011 Leave a comment

I live in the internet world – but what a bot or a bit really are defies my imagination. Writing around that a bit … a bot …

Do you see that bot sit
on the little odd bit?
What’s it going to do?
I don’t have a clue.

It’s on or off or good or bad
it’s yes or no or happy or sad.
There’s going to be a decision
that’s the bot’s mission.

They sit and chat a millionth second
They’ll never meet again I reckon.
The song of the bot and the bit
And this is it.

Lyrics by Detlef Cordes 2011

Categories: Lyrics, Writing

Breitenstein is not an old man to me

November 10, 2011 1 comment

Breitenstein is not an old man to me, because I knew him 50 years ago, when he was in his thirties, always in a hurry, always looking like a CIA agent with his conspicuous hat, long black coat and the brown leather briefcase. I like that he didn’t change his outfit one little bit in all these years – except that he is unable to take the briefcase as he walks with a walking frame now. His back hurts badly and he is unable to stand erect.

But Breitenstein is still in a hurry as he is a writer and eager to get back to his typewriter, yes: typewriter. I hear him hitting the keys as early as 6am when I pass his apartment walking the dog. Typing, typing, typing for decades without ever publishing anything, apparently without any reader on his mind, any reader but himself.

Breitenstein, a configuration of remarkable energy, always under pressure, receding into the haze of time, leaving an apartment with shelves of paper, paper, paper.

Categories: story, Writing

The problem

June 23, 2011 Leave a comment

Two young women are walking towards me. As they pass I catch snippets of their conversation:

“So the problem is: he lets his parents push him into being a farmer.”

“It’s very interesting you say that. I never saw it that way. I always thought that I am the problem.”

Categories: Writing

Human Nature

June 11, 2011 Leave a comment

into human nature:

are you ready to accede your acre?

are you ready to succeed your faker?
are you ready to meet the maker?
are you ready to bow or


Categories: Writing

the mystery of the union

June 10, 2011 Leave a comment

on bin
under din
creating sin
you are the faker
lust is the baker
you relax a breaker, when the grunt is direct

Categories: Writing

The clock is right behind him

June 6, 2011 Leave a comment

So then he is sitting there and I am bored. The clock is right behind him but I have to look into his eyes because he might notice I look elsewhere. The next time I dare to look 3 minutes have passed. I calculate that I have to listen to him at least 17 more minutes. I try to talk about something that interests me. There is always the toilet.

Categories: free association, Writing