A Scrapbook of Lies

Von Knut Stang

A German artist, poet, historian, suddenly writing English verses.
No intention to create the next German song entering the charts. Instead, delivering his utterly unready attempts as such.
Like a painter not exhibiting paintings but pages ripped out of some scrapbook.
But in a world of lies, what else would such a scrapbook contain? Or if your truly honest what could you offer but lies?

• Sprache: Deutsch
• Herausgeber: Books on Demand
• Erscheinungsdatum: 21. Nov. 2023
• ISBN: 9783758388903

Knut Stang

Poet, historian, artist. Born in Bremen, living in Germany, in Ireland, and, increasingly often, on the threshold between nowhere and nothing.

Buchvorschau

Inhalt

Preamble

White Chalk on Grey Canvas

I Heard the Faeries Call my Name

Dang Dang Ding Dong Dangeling

The Sand

Close Your Eyes

I was Asked

A Scrapbook of Lies

I Would Have Been Ready

It's Thus

Glimpses

Men Walking the Beach

Interlocution with Sparrows

Salesman

We Shall Prevail

Keeper

Language: Desperately Lost

Here’s to You One Last Goodbye…

A Borrowed Face

Despite the Butcher was Dead

Highwayman

All the Pirates

I Remember of Course

Lost

Miankou Mikosama

Drifting

The Cat

When All is Lost

A Man with Scarlet Foot

Patches of Trees

No, Tom, No

But Live

Echoes

The Lion

The Wave

The Mill

You Cannot

The Vulture and the Victim

When I Walk

Touching

A Night in the Vineyards

The Old Castellan's Tale

In Pale Light

With Gargoyles I Speak

Black

Red Ink On Very Green

It Poem it Lies

Harboured

Me Ain’t

Ruffle my Shingles

On Threshold

Mothers

Please

Leopard Man

Sugar Girl on Sugar Bed

Fallen From

Melodious

Me Like

Commerce

A Year

Creation

Nopeenopp

Freetown 1997

What About?

I

The Flake

Two

You Never See Her Eyes

Me

Lavadee

Measure

The Not-Being-Lied of Birds

Yumee?

May I

Rotten

In Darkness

Fake

Oratory

Me: The One

Haittihooka

I Had

She

Fail

Yummeeyummee

Black Coal To Cover The White

Why Would Anyone

Letters

All is Glass

Still Can

A Second – Helping

Strategies, Systems, Solutions

Cart

Perspectives

Can We Not

No Way

Language of Course

Naturally

Would? It?

What Might Have Been True

The World

I Thought

Could I

After Some Vague Acquaintance’s Suicide

It Was Never God

Infantry Man

Sad Fish and Lonely Chips

The Face in Broken Mirrors Fell

If All I Could Have

In the Mirror

Take

Shoelaces

I Fell Asleep

Pale Shades, Grey Shades

Is this a Knife

If a Book of Poetry I Were

I Could Say

The Unanswered

Need

Who

For Instant

Nothing

When They Said

Glistening

Diana

There Are

In School

So Far

I Remember Paris

Belanglos

Back

Dreaming of Mountain-High Letters

Waves

On No

True

I Happened to Fall Asleep

Words

Fact Is

To Fail

Don’t

Catharsis, or: When this would be the Best

Poems in Alphabetical Order

Preamble

Who would publish this / Georgie?

Georgie

ran the stream through

the forest while silver

dangled from the clouds

onto the emerald leaves

Who would publish this / Kathy?

Kathy

gathered splinters from some cross raining

onto our concrete suburban utopia

she named us European cockatoos

caged. Pecking exterminatory rubber wheels

Who would publish this / Furry?

Furry

she was the maid.

we had been through

this before. Our emptiness

was handmade.

White Chalk on Grey Canvas

I Heard the Faeries Call my Name

I heard the faeries call my name.

From whence the whispers came

I do not know,

but to the forests I must go.

A face to young to face the rain.

Seal unbroken, brethren, unbroken seal:

Send it to the rivers, to the ocean.

As if my heart knew how to dream,

to linger in the faeries’ gleam.

But only shadows walk with me,

their riddle is not mine to see.

Is this an empty corpse in motion?

To fade is more than to sustain.

The reel of world, but woe is real.

The trees lie hewn, the mountain’s high,

red clouds are all across the sky.

And I am frightened to the bone:

so lost, betrayed, and so alone.

Heal the desperate, too desperate to heal.

The dew on the leaves: a secret potion.

And fate holds answers to your pain.

I hear the faeries whisper: Just be strong,

because your way is dark and long.

And none but us is on your side.

(Alas, we are naught but tears you’ve cried.)

Dang Dang Ding Dong Dangeling

dang dang ding dong dangeling

hear me call your name

in my handmade forest spring

grows a many splendoured thing

run to me, and thence be lame.

lame? my

name – is my name

to you? I’ll be

game?

lame game?

underneath my tree roots dwell

dang dang ding and diddle

dreams I buy and nightmares sell

can’t you hear my household spell?

play that grassroot fiddle.

mare? I to you

ride? lame?

night – a croaker?

lame healer?

for you – in crackers.

life’s a coin: you’ve lost it here

dangelong, dangelong a-deedle

wash your eyes with sandy tear

night is nigh and end is near

life’s a