Fatigue without a battle
soldiers for the no-man's land
a flag that says
We are all migrants
a spinning planet
A turn of a tide
or a sheet of paper
and all will be gone
in the wind of some change
blows the pipe of our notions
just for the fun of seeing
our unrecognized mis
Never blind but senseless
in the ever seeing darkness
stumble through nothing
From the hammering
caress of a doubt like a cloud
on the frown of a sincere mind
we rise into a dawn of questionings
Am I dreaming a mare called reality?
is this just a pessimist partiality?
And why is the simple breath so much brighter?
The quality of any answer
not to be judged
A question born in the alps
from the winds under the wings
of an alpine chough
A question oscillating
in the feathered dance of her approach
in the sparkling of her eyes
the shimmering of her beak
Punctured by cries
How do we interact with the many forms of life?
Are we just babbling or do we truly communicate?
How do we relate?
And how, how do we listen?
Which way shall it be?
And an answer is
turning into the wind
circling in the upcurrent
higher and higher
_The meeting with the beautiful yellow-billed chough took place during the descent from mount Schinder on the Tyrolean-Bavarian border on June 6th 2015.
Thursday, 4th of June. Protests against G7 and all the hypercapitalist hubris that comes with it. Munich, Bavaria, Germany.
A leftist newspaper titles a section: "Rowdies desperately wanted". Riotpolice stand idle in the shades of trees, like tiger watching lambs. But, against all the tales from the interior ministry, happily lapped up by the simply-not-minding-to-get-out-and-do-their-job-in-an-investigative-manner media, there are no bad sheep on these streets.
There are old men and old women in traditional dresses, there are parents with children, children with parents, boyz n girls, there are many young people, costumes, elaborate constructions, small cardboards, there are voices, many many different voices.
And they feel that they will be heard, even without shouting.
Because we are many and we are creative.
Because we are combining so many small fights into this big battle.
Because we do it without fuss, hate or violence.
G7 confronts us directly with our system of consumption, hierarchical domination and international politricks.
With 7 bullies thinking to rule the world due to a mixture of colonial legacy, imperial primacy and a perspective on the country that is merely economical in its exploitative capitalist way of measuring. Otherwise, these would not be the seven greatest.
But it is them. It is our democratically elected leaders behaving like kings and queens of the world. The greed for endless growth combined with the fear of loosing an election every four years, what a bad coupling. We can imagine better forms.
And we are here to say ¡STOP!. Stop the confluence of big business with big politics. These politricks are just not good enough for us. You "don't sell our democracy".
There marches a joke and the joke starts like this:
"7 Bullies walk into a German castle..."
and ends in creativity, exchanges of ideas, fundraising, good vibes and a lot of understanding. There is a high sensitivity that the problem is enormous, that we must act now and that we have to cover all of the problems.
That we have to work on it from every side and every corner at the same time. Inside, outside, all along, far and wide. Because people are dying right now in deserts and on seas because of this senseless greed.
So this is what we ask for. Peace. A world with less greed and more love: "Kill the greed - Love is all we need".
When evening comes, the sunny protests are done.
The Isar continues to flow like a wild/tame river, renaturalized, meandering through Munich.
Sun sets. It feels like everything is gonna be alright.
Hope is alight *
I feel lucky.
I had been invited to read in the Artist's Panel of the Images of Identity conference in Zürich. For a title of my picture-poetry combination I chose "Images for the I".
The reading took place on Saturday, 31st January 2015 in the Aula of the University Zürich.
That means that I read in an aula where Winston Churchill once spoke to the European youth about the United States of Europe rising from the ashes of WWII ("Therefore I say to you let Europe arise"). So much for a historic place.
Not a bad place for my first reading of English-poems-only, wouldn't you agree?
I read, among others, my old favourite: "Blue yet defining".
And I read unpublished new ones like "Pictures of past masques", whose beginning I'd like to cite here, followed by a photo of the projected picture that goes with it:
Pictures of past masques
Observing former masks
standing there smiling
from photographic paper
Sooner or later we have to ask ourselves
if this really is the same two-letter persona
m e = me?
is this merely a manifest of a moment
a pamphlet for a whole life
a banner on the climax
a looming goodbye
a sad farewell
to good times
I feel lucky and thankful. This life is full of presents. We may accept ours.
During a stroke of sunshine
I took the camera
to see a difference
in front of me
what I had felt when
the first rays cut the grey
to meet the shiver of my winter skin
Through the lense I could see
a dance between light and matter
opening an in-between of positive vibez
like a humming bird's world connecting flutter
And that is how this ray of hope beamed me into the islands
of Miss Lou and Derek Walcott as well as Edward Kamau Brathwaite
Hereby I oppose the ways we treat pioneers who cross the deserts, mountains and seas in order to reach our shorescritiquePosted by Daniel Graziadei 2014-11-28 02:33:55
Walk on, citizen, walk on
And while I drive by in one of these wonderful vehicles of communal transportation
I see barriers and I see cops dressed for the third world war
protecting a fountain and a hilly square
where migrants had protested in the cold open
until they decided to stop taking any fluid
as to protest their incarceration in the name of illegal immigration
under conditions unbearable to the pioneer
came for a better life in safety and an open sphere of possibilities
The ministry of interior could not calm the temptation
to bust them in full force and two hundred strong
protest from the square back to incarceration
All clean all empty all fenced now
and I drive by in one of these wonderful vehicles of communal transportation
and shout at those men dressed for another class war
that shame is on them
and their upholding of an order
of walk on walk on
there is nothing to see
Consume collect inflict and thereby be
walk on walk on
the dark side is not here for you to see
walk on walk on
or meet the force of temptation
to quell you into moderation
walk on walk on
there is nothing left to see
appears to have taken
place in the capital
of Bavaria on
that very spot
the eye came late
and strolled through
a wide open space
full of sun and dust
and stands and stuff
and sand and enough
rarities and kitsch for disbelief
like another world
in the making
only the menace
of those trucks in their row
and the presence
of fluorescent men
marked a future
of the past
inna di border zone
on the jump on that
Flea Market of Worlds
[ for full view click ]