
He said ‘I know an old farmer doesn’t trust the bank
Keeps his money buried out behind his water tank
He told me once when he was out of his mind’
‘Oh boys our time has come
To live among the privileged ones’
tobias m. schiel

I am the man on stage slurring your favourite songs.
Making up a few of the words as I go along.
Taking the edge off of me
Is a necessity when I’m singing these words that I no longer mean.
I am not a poet, I’m a broken heart
And though you didn’t dispute it, I don’t really play the part.
I am not dishonest, I’m a lost detail
Leaving out the good words to hide my trail.


A contribution for Jo’s Monday Walks, this post completements the morning walk I shared earlier this fall.
“Saget, Steine, mir an, o sprecht, ihr hohen Paläste!
Straßen, redet ein Wort! Genius, regst du dich nicht?”
J. W. Goethe, Römische Elegien, 1
While the poet begs Rome’s walls to talk to him, the walls in the streets of Arles sported many messages, some of them obstructed by noise – ripped off, painted over, gone enigmatic. I was fascinated by the layers, by the idea that someone left a trace, only to be obstructed after a while…
A famous song text by Bertold Brecht. One of the English translations is, “Oh, the shark has pretty teeth, dear…” — I am still wondering though if somebody might have bought it if this post’s title had been “Been diving…” — And I just realize since this is a marine animal it might be a good choice for Paula’s Thursday’s Special.