(Jens Hartmann)
The dream that drowses deep inside
Arises from a lonesome sleep
In the world two souls collide
To share the fantasies to keep
The time that passed so slowly
Prepares to fly across the lands
The time I passed so lonely
Prepares to run out of my hands
To share that flashing moment
That glimpse that lasts forever
The wave that needs no comment
Rolls down the silent river
And so my boat drifts into the ocean
The vessel in ragged winds and waves
It boldly stands within the motion
Of the liquids that mislead the braves
To sail into the quiet heaven
To take a rest in nature's lap
Watch the flight of the white raven
Through the blue sky's charming gap
All the powers of my wishes
Finally shall be released
And the nature's finest dishes
Oh, we eat and we are pleased
I give myself into the flesh
I throw out the anchor
I take a nap in the warm lap
I am home at last
I am home at last
Siehe bei The great opening of the internal waiting room
(Jens Hartmann)
As winters chillness retreats from the land
She carefully stretches out her first weak hand
Through the shell that kept her save
In the frosty tidal wave
To be embraced by the new born spring
To kiss the light, to be, to sing
See the sun warm up the limbs
As the summer sky's blue swims
How many ever get this far?
Some are lost in human worlds of tar
None of her sisters made the race
None to be seen around the place
'Oh, my life, my kin's nowhere
Still I tell you, I am there!'
So she prepares to do her best
Not a moment's time to rest
She sucks in the spring's vitality
To complete her concealed activity
Again in a protective shell
She drinks from the rainy well
'Oh, my life, not long ago
Soon you'll see my little show'
With all her will and all her might
She unfolds a pleasant sight
With all her colours in her gown
She will please someone somewhere downtown
'Oh, my life, I now am there
I bet you now see where'
And with a little song to whistle
A young girl finds the new born thislte
No eye she has for highland beauty
So she ends the hope of life's certainty
A little step onto the flower
Terminates the mighty power
'Oh, my life, I fade away
I only hope my race holds sway
Crying this she ceased to be
Human race will pay the fee
Siehe bei The rest of Eskiniwach
Siehe bei The great opening of the internal waiting room
(Jens Hartmann)
(Mrs. M., Clare: wife of Frank G. Mother to 3 children. Age: 45 years
passionated dust-hunter and health fanatician)
Oh, my God, my son returned
Leaving muddy tracks behind
On the neatly polished floor
And the handle of the door
A morning's work, all in a mess
Have to start again, I guess
Just fill the washing machine before
And clean the dishes, was there more?
Got to be ready when my husband returns
Don't like what he won't like, 'cos of this my cheek burns
Brush, hoover, clean and wash are my daily duties
Hug the children, feed them, cheat them
- just to their favor of cause
Dirt, dust, mud and soil, no time for parties
Meet the doctor, eat my pills
- just for my health of cause
The little one cries, what has he done?
The girl had to watch, where is she gone?
I don't know what I've done wrong
She retreats from me all along
Won't help me with the house and shopping
Prefers to be with her friends and jogging
How can she earn a young man's fondness
If she does not learn a woman's business
I keep telling her but she pays no attention
Says it's me who's wrong, whatever I mention
Brush, hoover,...
Feel a little sting in my breast - surely it's cancer
The doctor says there's nothing to see - but he must be wrong
He says it's the way I live - what a fool - I'm no dancer
No time for any fun but to watch T.V. - soap operas and shows among
What does he think, housework's a holiday - no way
I love my life, won't miss a second - except this emptiness I pick
When I think, there will be no one needing me - one day
But I brush this away, they will need me I've got my own trick
I will love them, care for them, feed them, chain them
Chain them in my love - lead them from above
Never will they leave me - never will they treat me
Like an old crone - weak bone
I am their mother whatever they do
They're in my cage - even when they've got my age
They carry me inside - they are all my pride
Whatever they do
They will be mine all their lives!
(Jens Hartmann)
(The house-fly. Age: 27 hours.
Though very young by human standards
he has achieved an incredible understanding of human society
by observing his hosts - family M. - who provide in all respects
a revealing insight into typical family structures.)
Welcome to the real world, I am the fly
Never ask much, just watch, I am too shy
You would not believe me anyway
You just swat with your fat hand anyday
Never will you comprehend, never can you understand
My point of view is too strange for your brains of sand
So I form my short life's memories
Into my little private cabinet of horror stories
Maybe you can read me
Or maybe you will eat me
Maybe you will feed me
But never will you beat me
I am the fly though I am shy
To fast for your eye are my movements
I call my friends and you will cry
Poisoned stings are nice improvements
Carry on and you will fear
But I shed no single tear
If I warn you, will you hear?
Maybe you're just a bear
Though I may die, my race will live
Kill yourself and kill your sisters
We are one, share what you give
And I tell you my stories, dear Mrs. and Misters