Passing to the 12

The times of sun turn longer on one

half of the earth 

but shorter 

on the other

There is no way to tell up

and down in this turning and spinning

Ebb flood and flow follow

the circling pale’s narration

some of earth's heavy tremblings 

and the winds' fiercest persuasions

 

Bluewhite light's living grace

floating soft in wide and open

endless space 

blessed by a light and its attraction

Comes a year anew

mark of human view

the gaze turned from stars’ wide open

                                     endless daze above

to the tick tack tock of the pressure clock

right on the low pulse of rigid counting

the change into a new number

of exaggerated overvaluation

Offering a change from death to life anew

time to reflect on the self and the whole

over fireworks and celebrations

incantations

Overhead galactic bends

yawn

Underfeet the earth crusts

in silence

all vibes in-between

blessings of being

In other words: Happy New Year, concentration, unconditional love, many smiles and all the best for twothousandandtwelve!

d

Hacktivism

[after reading Jillian C. York's Opinion "Hacktivism for Syria" and "Syria's electronic army" on the English Aljazeera web page]

"As living beings spending that much time on the line and entangled in the web, 

how could we love and live without taking protest with us?"

myself on fb

And then you realize

you are not alone

but with the many

who as you
far in your room

in front of blue-screens

despair

are not alone

cause those anonymous

have typed

your mind and heart

You catch yourself reading 

half open-mouthed full

"To the Syrian people: The world stands with you against the brutal regime of Bashar al-Assad. Know that time and history are on your side - tyrants use violence because they have nothing else, and the more violent they are, the more fragile they become. We salute your determination to be non-violent in the face of the regime's brutality, and admire your willingness to pursue justice, not mere revenge. All tyrants will fall, and thanks to your bravery Bashar Al-Assad is next.

To the Syrian military: You are responsible for protecting the Syrian people, and anyone who orders you to kill women, children, and the elderly deserves to be tried for treason. No outside enemy could do as much damage to Syria as Bashar Al-Assad has done. Defend your country - rise up against the regime! - Anonymous." [video]

And you watch and

you read a second

time cause you can't

believe

that your thoughts

I salute your determination to be non-violent

have found ways

into the opening

All tirants will fall

and reflect

back to yourself

from your far close screen

and suddenly you feel Yes! 

everything's gonna be alright

have no more doubt

(c) Daniel Graziadei (btw 4 all photos @ "It's Time 4 dAn";)

Mare e monti: Between Mühltal & Istanbul

In the meantime the dinosaur has found the wide awoken eye of the narrator and tries to hunt it down.

Finally, as we start watching, he traps it on the seaside. The mountainous beach turns red.

Side by side they weep until darkness collapses around the last real blink of sunlight.... ight... ght... t... .

Under bridges over calmed waters
between continents and seaways



we eat the fruits of the wet
and yes we are
thankful greatful
and soon also bellyful

A blessing it is to be here
A blessing it is to fly here
A great lesson it is to be

The sun agrees and sends some
beams and wind with it
illuminating the house of death
showing peace and patience



Every little thing is changing
and yes we are with it
in it
for and in
so many dimensions

ever changing ever grinning ever spinning
in this wheel of foreign fortunes

wheeling with the gulls
in between somewhere nowhere everywhere
always deciding if the sun should rise
or if the clouds in tides
should crisscross the sky

with bridges and calmed waters
underneath



& when imagination strands
in a shipwreck













without island

it is seaweed
or a fleeting sandbank
that will do
water games
write funny names
into currents
and water jets













every drop
rhythm
information
and {the possibility of} a
rainbow

...

Even the smallest
and most meaningless
matter
is light

image and part of the whole
written down

to go up

 SouthTyrol / Istanbul summer 2011

Freedom of Speech

Tomorrow I will read/perform in Munich with wonderful writers and artists: freisprechanlage. staging opinion (as already commented extensively on my German blog). Our common topic is freedom of speech. Obviously one can always say too much and do too little for it. That is why only some lines will follow. And the invitation to check it out!

To speak or not to speak that is the bullet
to raise your hand in proprotest
to raise your voice
your hearts
and souls
is that
free
dom
??
!
.
.
...
or do
you need
quite some
more reflection
research and insight
some cover-up perfection
instead of direct emotions
manipulated by headlines and pictures
by politricks and propaganda strictures
without counter arguments nor space to think?

to think out and speak up - that is the sensible way

Have a most wonderful day and surf!
d

Reading for the Dirty Wall Project: Munich

On Friday in a little cozy book shop in a Southern German city called Munich, usually known for its sausages, football team and beer festival: An evening for international solidarity on a one to one basis.

There will be art and talk and machines:
- Portrait Pictures taken by Kane Ryan in India during one of his many visits of solidarity and work. Kane is a one man NGO, the dirty wall project (DWP). Together with local sources he helps were he can, for example by building a school in a so-called slum. He will talk himself (via skype) of his current projects.
- The presentation of the DWP racing bike by Sammy Kama that will be auctioned @ ebay
- A poetry reading by Daniel Graziadei
- Furthermore there are T-Shirts of DWP available
- The book shop and editor KUTV as always offers good drinks and literature in a cozy atmosphere

Come and have a good different start into your weekend: Friday 13th May 20h Ligsalzstr. 13 Munich Westend.

SUN IS SHUT

O U T

OF MY ROOM

PLEASE WEAR

LUCIDITY 

...
Sun comes up from the depth of a dark eye
Universes suddenly set alight and shining bright
Sharing a circle and a laugh we are sitting here and now
dining on a spoon of rise and a cup of quite clouded water
underneath the starry blinking of another night outside alright
Night becomes a counter day cuddling us into silent peacefulness

1128090511 MUC

Humble mumble from somewhere

Easter Sunday (ups, now it became Monday) - some will try their luck today (again): bunny hop. No, not on a bike but on a boat, not a small obstacle but the Mediterranean. A miracle so to speak. Overload and too little wood or plastic to surf the open sea, too little horse power to ride against the waves. A nutshell, out on a pond. Ascension may come but how deep is the fall before and how to revive? The slow descend into another element, life bringing substance that brings death. Too salty and too much of it. How much can you take before engulfing it all, becoming sea, never to be pulled ashore?

A day like this, when the story of the pain of a human is brought to her first triumphant climax, when the white and red lights are cast upon earth after the storm has passed and the material temple has been scarred, on a day like this not only the new arrivants are present in their hopefull bunny hop. Many ancient, old, new and untold stories of deceit, imprisonment, torture, struggle for survival, staring gazes and loud cheering to one's death are present as well. Two of them searched a voice and found a humble vase of words stuck to the silk of this digital web. Here they are.

Number one pushed to be written a month ago in Venice and published today online. It is the well-known ordeal of a woman of the tribe of San, brought to England by a cunning doctor, portrayed, exposed, commented and written about, laughed at, used and abused both in England and in France by the supposedly most learned and fortunate men of the Empires. It is no other but the woman that was named The Hottentot Venus. There are disputes if Saartjie Baartman is her real name or merely the first one to be imposed by a European. For those who don't want to read: The Cyrcles Edge offers image and sound followed about a rant.

In any case: there exist two literary translations of her and her story. The South African poet Diana Ferrus wrote a "A poem for Sarah Baartman" that may have influenced the French minister of research and law makers to return the long displayed remains to South Africa in 2002. Secondly, a play has been written and produced by Suzan-Lori Parks titled "The Hottentot Venus". They are both better researched and probably written with more premeditation. Probably they could defend themselves better against the criticism of writing about things "they don't really know about". I confess that my lines are written by a sudden shiver in the spinal cord whilst hearing for the first time about this woman-in-constant-exposition. 

Fi nameless 'uman on display

1029180311 Ca' Foscari

You standing in a cage they put around

you are moved into the lights of Empire

as a shadow under scrutiny

by pale darkness with gloomy eyes

and spit drooling from open mouths

You sitting in your cage whilst

the latest buyer fucks your great

anatomy right from behind

are running the savannah

behind tearing eyes

are lying on a beach

beneath your burning skin

where the marks of insecure

short dicked bullies write

H U M I L I A T I O N

on your ample body's lush widths

where herds of eyes graze upon

eating the light and reflection of your

nameless beauty of Otherness

May your parts fully rest in peace

and may the eyes now close shut tight

May the show be over and done

May the show be over and out

May the show be gone

Rest in peace and respect

Number two has to do with a similar exposition of bodies. But this time in ancient times and in a bloodier way. Gladiators in the Collisseum. Not the way the Hollywood movie portrays it. Not entirely at least. 

glad? later. 

maybe one is glad later 

but as a gladiator

I is just another slave

on the way to work myself

to death

The games are promised

to thrive

for 101 days...

The Roman plebs is hungry

and blood must run

and entertainment come

If no good show this Caesar must run

Senate might even return

He don't want no run

Thus blood

from enslaved people

out of the cages into the arena

from the underground 

to the spot of some thousand eyes

to this roar and this stomping

I had never heard before

Like an over-sized elephant herd

fleeing bush fire

Maybe one is glad later 

but how should I survive 

if summoned on inauguration day

with another hundred days to go

Luck 

and a fingertip of earth powers

and a fingertip of star dust

and a fingertip of water from the Tiber

might prove to be enough

if spent wisely

But now out come 

the hungry lions

and maybe I am glad later

but now I got to fight

or fall victim to sharp teeth

whilst the masses cheer and laugh

at my bloody death