2 poems by Tom Mega:
 
► Geisterstadt

Distel (Thistle)
(see German original)
 
I know my way in every maw
jumping, skipping, dashing,
sometimes I hit a grotty hole
a flower in a vase
 
I come, I go, I'm fleeing,
but never, never can I stay
and when I slam a door
I'm leering at the next one
 
Oh, if I were a thistle
in deserted wasteland
I'd be sitting in the ground
and dreamt that we were two.
 
I doubt and cough, I burp and fester
my belly is in uproar
I dig and rut, turn every stone
I stray just everywhere.
 
And what I find, litter, crap,
I shake it, bend it, turn it 'round.
There is no peace, I go for everything.
That's what plagues me on and on.
 
Oh, if I were a thistle . . .
 
Inside I cry for meaning, more
not even when I piss I'm calm
sometimes I think there's something, yeah,
't was just a joke, me silly cow!
 
And hangin' 'round with other guys
just gives me empty blarney talk
And when I give it a closer eye:
it's the same greed but different titties
 
Oh, if I were a thistle
in deserted wasteland
I'd be sitting in the ground
and dreamt that we were two,
and dreamt that we were two.