Lovely Sphinx by Raimund J. Höltich (best black authors .TXT) 📕

Many women cry.

Many friends die.

Their life? A lie.

My head was burning and sick.

My life was waiting for a death kick.

I was ill and had no wife for my dick.

Fear to be mad.

Which kind of 'dead'?

But not bloody and not red.

I would kill myself softly, not hard.

Heroin for my brain and my heard.

But I create poems, music and art.

When I die,

eye in eye

with death and life am I,

when I die,

when I die.

When I die,

no one stands by,

no one asks me why,

no one says good bye,

when I die,

when I die.

When I die,

please don’t cry,

it’s my last trip, my,

when I die,

when I die,

When I die, 

I‘m looking into the sky,

I try

so high.

and I fly, 

when I die,

when I die.

One is the woman,

the Woman Number One,

one of all billion women.

Who has won?

The Woman Number One.

One is the woman,

the Woman Number One.

A hitchhiking woman

was standing on the road again

to get a lift from a man.

She didn't wait very long.

A car was coming the street along.

The driver stopped the car, but he was wrong.

A minute later a sticky hand touched her knee.

The man had dirty wishes and a dirty fantasy.

He had fecal shit in his mind.

He was a man of the dirty kind.

The woman hit the man and began to shout.

A minute later she was out.

I’m staying alive

in the tragedy and in mystery

with or without a wife.

Dreams are my reality.

A writer, a painter, a musician, a sculptor am I.

Sometimes I feel love, sometimes I feel pain.

I’m dreaming. I’m feeling. I fly.

I’m loving my fantastic brain.

Sometimes I lost my fear.

Sometimes I feel emptiness.

Sometimes I miss your near.

Sometimes I feel loneliness.

I came from the dark side of my life.

I had lost my way, lost my wife.

Chaos in my brain, chaos is my life.

Can you say a way?

Can you go a way?

Fire in your mind,

fire of feelings, every kind,

between emotions and reason,

pain and thoughts of suicide in an endless, dark reason.

How many years of tears?

How many years of suppressed tears?

How many death, friend after friend?

The last friend is the end.

Too much acid in your brain.

Backflashes comes again and again.

Sometimes you don’t know what’s reality, what’s a dream.

Your ask yourself, but no answer. Your head works at full steam.

I’m old.

I’m cold.

I’m the last

of the past.

Teardrops are falling down.

I can’t stay.

Love is lost.

I pay.

I go away.

To late

for love.

To late

for hate.

I have nothing.

I lost.

I lost nothing.

I lost me.

Raindrops are falling down

on me.

I’m alone.

I’m free.

I’m full of fantasy.

Loneliness

is my fate.

Writing, music and art

is what I create.

I’m not nothing.

I find.

I find all.

I find me.

Writing, music and art

are my life.

Writing, music and art

are my love.

 I’m live my life.

I’m love my love.

I’m love my life.

I’m live my love.

No money,

no power

for our

lady of one hour,

for Honey,

the funny

money

bunny,

for the rich

bitch.

D  ay’s of chaos in the underground.

I    t’s a lonely search round and round.

A  drug is the cold and burning night.

R  eality and dream, a trip through darkness and light.

Y  ou can’t tell me, which way is the right.

Sorry, Lady,  you are not that, what I want to buy.

Sorry, I just will die.

I don’t fuck your monster hole,

because free is my soul.