and the rest is your imagination

Playing with the Fire

Indeed,
if one day we succumb
to the view of these fools
under occupation of outrage
their rebellion will soon turn
into systematic oppression.
And yet it’d be the fools
who used the law
to annul it blindly.
They sparked the fire
in which they‘d burned.
Their blaze shall warm my hands
on the darkest days.

(mehr …)

Invisible

I’m on my way again,
to plunge back into the mill
amidst a legion of comrades.
We all assemble in this scene,
but still haven‘t fully returned
from elapsed amusements.
No one stares at each other.
We stare at something – anything.
The floor, the phone or just in the air.
I am invisible.
I feel detached
I am beyond everyday life.
I overcame continuance
and I found my stash –
Monday mornings in the subway.

(mehr …)

Dreams

His hands on the handlebars
he waited at the traffic light.
A wedding car passed by,
followed by the honking convoy.
So the boy joined in
with his bicycle bell.

(mehr …)

Land of Cockaigne

We are well-fed,
but we‘ll never be sated.
Surrounded by plenty,
we bemoan our plight.
The lament is endless,
a shelter of indolence,
where we adore yesterdays
but there is no tomorrow.

(mehr …)

Longing

As the year goes by,
my head goes down.
Too heavy were my thoughts,
too constant is the look down
on the world in pixels.

Instead of staring to the sky,
I now stare at ceilings.
Instead of the upright zeal
I exercise horizontal patience.

(mehr …)

The New Normal

The return path is sealed. 
We conceive the normal 
every day anew.
Day by day
we fathom the unknown
to confide in tomorrows.
Because our world is destined
to become forever
but never to just be.

(mehr …)

Until we dance together again

Let yourself be fetched 
by blithe and rousing tones.
And when you‘re unbound
the madness of your soleness
becomes the ease of abandon.
Off you breeze into elation
incapable to grasp the expanse
of one moment and its continuance.
You covet the splendor
of your recluse self in motion.
Why have you ever danced
unlike this before?

(mehr …)

Becoming

The lockstep’s beat stifles
in the echo of silence.
In isolation I sort
all the goods I carry with me.
Where my yesterday thrives to tomorrow
the becoming matures to being
under layers of the experienced,
shaped by the rhythm of everyday life.

(mehr …)

Nocturnal Desire

illustration by the amazing David Guillén (follow him on Instagram: @joenux)

My fingers root through
your wild chest hair, 
finding the way
to your nipples.

I circle them gently, 
almost court them,
to eventually snatch them, 
and fuel the blaze.

I obey your lewd roar
of your dammed lust 
that guides me through
your nocturnal desire.

and the rest is your imagination

about

OOOH SO SHORT is a platform to present my personal and self-conscious micro prose that entertains, that provokes your thoughts and that inspires – with a minimum amount of words to stimulate your imagination.

Because writing helps us to process experiences and to become more aware of ourselves and our environment.

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Schließe dich 2 anderen Abonnenten an

the author

Ralf

Based in Berlin I write and draw about my everyday impressions and thoughts. I earn my living as a content director, planning digital communication for ministries and public organisations.