Jakob Magiera - Poems


This is a collection of poems I have written. Some are in English, some in German. May the thoughts and feelings they express cause you to think and ponder about the themes they contain.


Date written: January 7, 1997

My eyes are heavy my body is weak I need some rest I need some sleep Come, sleep, lull me take me up and pull me into your arms where I can throw my thoughts, my fears my hopes, my tears. I know you're an idol don't try to deceive me you're not worth my devotion yet I wish you'd receive me You're strange and a stranger I hardly know you there must be someone to acquaint us two. By the time I realize you got your grip on me I hate myself because once again I could have yielded long ago - I hate you because you're not even strong enough to overcome my weak and beaten body shame on you, sleep! you're always late, and not very persuasive. In the end I must yield to my weak flesh's demand drift off to amnesia false heaven's loose band I wake and harshly bid you farewell I didn't plunge into your arms - they grasped me and my eyes are heavy and my body is weak Why can't I do without sleep?


Date written: January 9, 1997

Ich kenne dich nicht, Du kennst mich nicht, Und wir spielen Versteck. Warum haben wir Angst voreinander? Bin ich dir gefhrlich? Bist du mir gefhrlich? Ich habe wohl Angst vor mir selbst. Ich kenne mich nicht. Wrde ich mich kennen, So htte ich keine Angst. Oder machen mir die anderen Angst? Was, wenn sie erfahren, Da ich keine Angst habe, Aus meinem Versteck zu kommen? Ich kenne dich nicht, Du kennst mich nicht, Und wir spielen Versteck. Ich spiele nicht mehr mit.

Lust und Frust

Date written: 1995 to Januar 1997

- Ein Traum, der immer wieder neu entsteht und aufs Neue zerplatzt - Neugiergig suchend ersphen die Augen den neuen alten Reiz Aufgeregt schwingt das Herz Ist das Liebe? - mir scheint der Drang liegt tiefer. Das Blut pulsiert, erfllt mich ganz Mit begehrendem Entzcken. Mir soll sie gehren, jetzt, lnger, immer. Als Besitz will ich sie verschlingen mit unendlichem Rachen; Ganz und gar wehrlos, hrig, nhrend. Ventil meines Hasses und meiner Frustration, Zweisam eins, doch nur mein, mein! Ewig, unaufhrlich - Es ist schon wieder vorber Und ich erkenne: es reicht nicht. Der Ha steigt auf, doch er ist ein Spiegel; "Wer wird mich retten vor diesem Leibe des Todes?" (Rmer 7:24)


Date written: May 4, 1997

Year after year it seems too long 'til spring time arrives, and winter subsides to nature's green. When trees boasting with leaves, as if they had shown them since long time ago, though they are younger than my memory.

Frisches Grn

Date written: May 20, 1997

In der Zeit des Erwachens sah ich einen Baum; er war ganz bekmmert, denn er war seiner Krone beraubt. Doch in der Zeit des Erwachens nahm dieser Baum die Kraft und brachte aus seinem Innern hervor Frisches Grn. Und obwohl es sprlich war und sich nicht messen konnte mit dem Grn der anderen Bume, war es nichtsdestotrotz Frisches Grn. Und mein Herz jauchzte vor Freude, als meine Augen erblickten das Sanfte Rot einer einzigen Blte. Wie wertvoll diese Blte ist, im Frischen Grn - der einzige Schatz, den der Baum besitzt.

Death Train

Date written: December 14, 1997

I'm running on a train. Faces right and left staring nowhere. Hard to believe that these faces are windows to something they would call 'life.' They all only remind me of death. The bearded man, from whom this obnoxious stench seems to evolve; the young woman, with the umbrella and the nice coat; even the man in the hat, who smiles as he talks to somebody sitting across him; all of them say it: death, death, death. The woman on my left seems to be struggling; looking around frantically for something alive. How futile! A group of lively talking youngsters enter the train - a remainder of life as we know it, knew it, hope to know it. Will they, too, be swallowed up by the quietness of this place? The doors are still open. Wait only, when they close... Intruders! Why don't you just shut up? The death train hates talk, hates all the noise, and, worst of all, laughter. Stop being so gay! You are killing us all the more. The inhabitants of the train, who have conformed to its silent voice long ago. Dead. Silenced by the deafening voice of the death train.

Knowing "Me"

Date written: December 12, 1997

There is a longing inside of me I'm carrying around. It's a longing so deep it has the might to fill my thoughts and consume me. For some time now it's been with me, yet in its intensity not enough to bend my will. Whose will does it obey? Wherefrom, whereto, Thou hidden might within? Lately, it seems, this longing has made its way out from the secret recesses of my heart. I feel it spreading in wave-like, long-stretching impulses - now faint, now more intense - yet steadily growing, dawning on me, slowly transforming me into someone I never thought was "me", yet makes me so much more "me" than the "me" I thought I knew.