Saturday, January 26, 2013

Berlin Mauerpark (wall park - open air poem)

when I was a child there was no grass
instead of birches
watch towers stood under gray clouds
and where now the multilingual calls of the ballplayers fly through the air
once gunmen with shepherd dogs
patrolled in the freshly raked sand
of the death zone

now we
casually lay on the hillside meadows on sunday in the middle of town
and yell to the pop hits of the karaoke singers on the open-air stage
jugglers jazz bands and drink retailers cavort among us
between bicycle riders, family picnics and dragon fighters

maybe you want a plaster head of karl marx (unfortunately without nose)
also offer hitler's razor and stalin's fur hat at low supply
says the
paris born congolese to the peruvian student of chinese descent
and his polish girlfriend (who just recently moved to berlin)

the baby in the sling worn by his haggling father
does not know where the mauerpark has its name from
(perhaps from the friendly stadium wall covered with colorful graffitis?)

in former times i always shunned berlin this bleeding sore of hatred
now i live with pleasure on this unprecedented flea market of dancing relics
full of incoming dreamers with big hearts and little money

a babylonian triumphal procession of the curious covers the
chattering scars
of the gigantic patchwork carpet of my story
called berlin

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