Note: You can change font size, font face, and turn on dark mode by clicking the "A" icon tab in the Story Info Box.
You can temporarily switch back to a Classic Literotica® experience during our ongoing public Beta testing. Please consider leaving feedback on issues you experience or suggest improvements.
Click hereTen to midnight on a laser brain day,
east of the wall (possibly, probably) but surely
somewhere between Brandenburger Tor and
forever,
i popped another mint and hummed along
to Snoop Dogg oozing from a third story
cracked frame in this coal charred Stalin's
Stonehedge, and the cracks in the pavement
leered a tar and pebble grin up at me.
"Now, there's something to write a poem
about," it croaked, "Russia rots like
gangrene, and America spreads like smallpox,
where's your pen, man, where's your paper?"
"What's there to write," I hissed
into the back of my teeth, behind rigid lips,
because pavement speaks to me and me alone,
and who knows what Polizei do to random
loiteres who talks to themselves? "now
that you've already said it all?"
It spoke no more, but I could feel both
discontent and petty pride under each step,
together with the slight trembles of pent up
wanderlust that any road will radiate which
only runs around the block.
Five to midnight the music died, the
voltage hum crackled and dissapeared
and every window went black.
And I was left with the hollow obelisks
edging closer, a faint St Elmo's Fire
stretching between the roofs and very
old, very angry words rushing in to fill
every last pocket of silence with
an even deeper one.
God only knows how many scars, correction - live wounds still hurt every day, how many people in and out and in-between the now united Germany. The always ‘wunderkind’ of Europe, both in excellence as in disasters, both to the rest of the world and to its own citizens, the country brought oceans of pain. Even the most sincere state suctioned efforts could never fully acknowledge not mentioning compensate.
Sorry for going so long on that, but this one worked so well precisely because of the restraint in the expression of anger. So many efforts fail or fall prey to kitsch. I am desperately curious to know in what way (if it touched you in a personal way)have the history of Germany- divided, then united - have touched you, but respectful I shall remain to what you have already disclosed.
Some really strong imagery here, making you feel like you're in the poet's shoes getting inspiration from your surroundings.
Another excellent poem. I have the phrase "laser brain day" stuck in my head. :)