Tag Archives: Poem

O Holy Stones!

6 Nov

Photo by our staff-photographer Andreas Baier
Click to enlage stonedly

O holy Stones, so strong and sweet:
Give me the strength as you were meat.
As you were power, seed and justice,
As you were fortune, faith and Pastis.
As you were gleaming in my soul,
As you were joining fish and bowl.
As you were secret, key and my account,
As you were you that I once found.
As you were hope and my solution,
As you were thoughtful brain pollution:
So sharp, so tough, so you, you, you:
O holy Stones – my faith in you!

Comments disabled.

Croissants D’Amour: «Je suis un poème»

3 Aug

«Croissants D’Amour» – flashlight painting by Andreas Baier
Click to enlarge eiffeltoweredly


Je suis un poème parce que je t’aime.
La lune est ma tribune, la lagune bleue
et je veux te dire que tu es mon plaisir.
Tu es la crème sur ma glace,
le système de mon future en masse,
le foie gras, voilà, les brunes
dans mon cendrier à Montparnasse,
les allées comme les Champs-Élysées
qui sont les traces de mes sentiments
et les pigments sur ma peinture de toi.

Tu es la place dans mon cœur et je suis sûr
que l’odeur de ta nature est la cure parfaite pour moi.
Ton intellect est direct comme celui d’un roi
mais trois fois plus. Ce soir je prends le bus
pour voir ta lumière pour la première fois.

Tu es le miroir de Juan Miró, un château de la Loire,
mon gâteau du soleil et très mignone, mon appareil
de téléphone qui me réveille et la Sorbonne dans ma tête.
Ce soir je prends une bicyclette
pour voir ta lumière pour la première fois.

Je crois que les mois d’été sont préparés
pour les jouir devant les cafés
des Grandes Halles de Paris
comme Jacques Tati ou Braque, compris?
Je suis un poème parce que je t’aime.

Sensitive topic. Therefore comments off.

A Way To Success In Winter’s Time

21 Dec

mono-teapot «ellipse», designed by Tassilo von Grolman


When winter’s hazy moments of care and hood
Let us walk fairly and squarely barefoot.
When riders on the storm are not only good
But more than just perfect – it’s understood.
When milky and gleaming and shiny snow flakes,
Combined with luck – let us grow cakes.
When years have come with truthful ends,
You’re drinking tea with your best friends:

The bravest of all, of harvest and moon, and also these men
Have thickened the boom. They now know they can
Be the great part – they wanted to be for ages!
The tea’s best secret is turning its leaves into pages
On which, as it seems, brooms have no places.
But drinking the tea to support all the races
Enlightens the spirits of masterminds’ spaces
In order to stretch their well-deserved wages.

Oh tea, you and your tree, you’ve got to be native:
A necessity to keep me creative, to keep me alive,
To bounding the sheep to their state to be stative,
To reap Meryl Streep – and call her my wife.
Oh tea, where the bell, shall this all end?
I’m already sent to your promised land.
Do you understand? Understand without stitches?
‘Cause «Fortune» ‘s the mother of concrete bridges.


Spontaneously written by our copywriter-in-chief Hamlet Hamster himself after enjoying to have watched the great teapot’s design by no one less than Tassilo von Grolman for hours – and also observing its candlelight that was waving for the same amount of time softly, gently and smoothly in the wind; a wind which was digging its small and mostly fragile way through a so-called closed window.

The magic teapot «ellipse» manufactured by mono and designed by Tassilo von Grolman can be purchased here. It makes you feel, as just proven, highly creative, turns any Christmas party into a very special event and separates – most importantly – the best from the good. So, all you need to do is to decide which sort of quality you might like to see represented by yourself.

Sensitive topic. Therefore comments off.

Whitney Houston: «Nose’s Overdoses»

14 Feb

Photo by Alexander Kosinski

Photo via Zéro


Hey, little Whitney:
You funky, chutney overdose.
I’ve got your smell
In my sober nose;
In my sober nose!

It is screwing like a shell bell
Into my brain
And into my mind!
It is ringing like a shell bell
In the rain;
It makes me so blind!

Hey, little Whitney:
You funky, chutney overdose.
I’ve got your smell
In my sober nose;
In my sober nose!

Website Whitney Houston.

Sensitive topic. Therefore comments off.

Cake In The Sky

17 Jul


I close my eyes – and you appear.
I can smell your smell’s so near.
I see you riding through my dreams.
It seems you’re happy – so it seems.

I‘m still awake and still so shy.
All I can say: there’s a cake in the sky.

You’ve been walking smiling faces –
With your sneakers many races.
You’ve been enjoying your slim curtain;
And all the movies from Tim Burton.

I‘m still awake and still so shy.
All I can say: there’s a cake in the sky.

You’re my warmly welcome dreamback rider.
Only way too young – leider, leider…

So, where’s the lake for my nice-try?
All I know: there’s a cake in the sky.
I’m still awake and still so shy.
All I can say: there’s a cake in the sky.

Sensitive topic. Therefore comments off.

Man Ray: «Poem»

19 Jun

Diese Zeichnung von Man Ray aus dem Jahre 1924, die er im Wonnemonat Mai in Paris anfertigte und «Poem» nannte, erinnert mich im übertragenen Sinne an Kurt Schwitters «Zahlengedichte» aus seiner «Ursonate».

via: This isn’t happiness

Sensibles Thema. Deshalb keine Kommentarmöglichkeit.

Whale Hangover

13 Feb

A whale was swimming through the sea,
He did it just for you – and me.
He jumped so high, so tender sweet,
The man aboard thought only «Meat!»

He thought about it very much,
and asked «What if, if such
a largy, largy, large, large fish
Would be my next rare smarty dish?»

We see the photo and the pic,
We learn the man is not a prick;
We learn the man is so impressive
And that his throat is so agressive.


11 Aug

Oh Körper, Du, Du weißgetünchter,
Mit Hirschgeweih und Krötenhoden,
Mit Schildplatt drauf, wie ein Verwünschter,
so folgt man gern den Künstlermoden.

Bedeutungsvoll, relaxed, entspannt,
So steht das Männchen vor dem Blau.
Wie lange bleibt es unerkannt?
Oder ist es eine Kämpferfrau?

So eine, die mit Tee rumwirft
Und Männerschwänze schneidet?
Oder Bioschimmel kifft?
Oder als Kuh auf Wiesen weidet?

Ein bißchen krumm, sie steht wohl schon’d…
Vielleicht auch ist sie ausgelaugt…
Verbirgt sie ihre Haare – blond?
Ihre Frauenbrust scheint abgesaugt.

via: Cakehead loves evil