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Buch Leseprobe Wicked Tale, Peter Pitsch
Peter Pitsch

Wicked Tale



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Globe
I took a plastic globe along with me
through towns and yawning villages
until the bridges collapsed behind me
and my orbit changed unalterable. 
I rotated around an axis of solitariness
in the centre of a cell, pondering about
those strange ways of life in the dimly
glow of my blue sphere. 
I put my mind into the artificial world
and fell asleep for a long long time,
kept spinning without ever knowing
and left the globe behind.

The Universe
High above the street I sat by the window,
the radio tower was bathed in fluorescent light,
unable to reach the tangled spiral nebulae
rotating for aeons in their own inscrutable truth. 
Nevertheless, my world was down below,
the rain drummed firm on metal plates,
every scene was familiar in its strangeness,
two hookers shared an umbrella and one client. 
I went to the kitchen and found her unconscious,
half of her face got stuck to a glowing griddle,
that's not what you expect on a rainy evening,
feverish fantasy about a plunge into the sun.

Jesus, today 
If the spotlight fell onto him,
what would Jesus preach,
and if millions invisible and
greedy would observe his deeds
in Internet's godlike space? 
The rings of a tree would
narrow around his heart,
to yearn for death in advance,
addressed in a single voiceless
prayer to a distant silence. 
His face would dwindle to a
red dot which glows beneath
all screens in standby mode,
and only the animal kingdom
would make any sense. 
Dwell therein, dwell! In the breath
of all cats, curled up until
the Last Day, decrepit pass away
until no one misses you and the
word fades finally away.


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