An older piece, written back when I was young and the founding member of a motorcycle gang.
Dead while alive
I ride into nowhere.
Them birds have all died in my hair.
This is nobody’s path.
Except the engine’s roar there is no sound.
Fire wheels have overrun the serpent.
Many moons ago dead.
Beyond all bearing alive.
High on dreams and nightmares.
To hear, to see, to feel, to understand.
Right and wrong become complete.
To a thunder I grow.
The edge of the gap draws near.
The mist is thick.
The engine’s roar vivifies what’s left of me.
The words rolling from your lips
Are viscous like blood,
While tasting like honey.
Can’t recall the time spent hiding,
But centuries must be too short,
Moments too long.
And I just can’t envision
The map of your new world,
Lying in tatters.
Unbreakable is the silence
Of your monologue,
Without the clothes adequate
For such an occasion.
Therefore, I turn to the myths
Filling the pages of a book
Read somewhere down the road.
But that was way back,
When all was eternal.
Civilisation as we know it did not first appear in Mesopotamia, but some thousands of years before, in the Balkan.
If you don’t know who Harald Haarmann is, give it a search. Same for the “Danube script”, Tartaria tablets, Marco Merlini and the rest.
This is an excerpt from, as far as I understood, an upcoming documentary on the subject.
Something for the german speaking audience:
Marco Merlini’s study on the topic:
And some other stuff: