Aziza Dakini

Dienstag, 1. März 2016

Musik for the people...

Gardens; Impro at Tränenpalast

Dienstag, 18. August 2015

Samstag, 20. Juni 2015

Poetry for you and me....

DOCUMENT: WE

WE SPIT ACID ON WALLS

WHILE SPEAKING YOUR LANGUAGE.

MY WORDS

NOT NEAT ANYMORE...

NO SORRY!

MY DEAR DEVIL IN HEAVENLY WHITE SHEEDS.

I REFUSE TO KEEP ON LISTENIN´ TO THAT NUMBING VOICES OF YOURS

NOMORE INJECTIONS AGAINST YOUR

ALL OVER SPREADING DISEAS.

INSTEAD...

COVERIN´ YOUR FACE IN LIONESS SHIT

FOR EVERYONE TO SEE

YOUR WEAKNESS

AND OUR STRENGTH.

STILL FEELIN´ LOVE FOR YOU...

NO OTHER SOLUTION.

ONLY FORGIVENESS WILL SOOTH OUR PAIN,

STITCH OUR WOUNDS,

STOP THE MISINTERPRETATIONS,

THE SEGREGATION ON ALL LEVELS.

SAME TIME

PATIENT AND HEALER.

AND WHILE MY PUSSY SCREAMS...

I FEEL FOR THE FIRST TIME

SOME KIND OF FREEDOM.

SOME KIND .... FOR SHURE,

BECAUSE IN THESE WOR(L)DS

IT´S A CRIME

TO FULLY BELIEVE IN FREEDOM.

BUT WE DO...

IN A STILL TOO FRAGILE MANNER.

KNOWING... FORGETTING...

VICIOUS CIRCLES I SPIN ON MY DECKS.

THE BODY TOO OFTEN AN AMNESTIC ZONE,

TO HEAVY ON OUR SPIRITS.

NOMANS LAND .........................................YOU SAY

CAPTRURED LAND.................................. WE SAY.

DIGGIN´ DEEP INTO THAT SOIL

INTO THAT SOUL...

WISHIN MY BLOOD WOULD BE

LIKE THE MARVELOUS BLUE DIESEL SEA,

DEEP DOWN IN THE RAINY FOREST.

TAKIN` COVER IN THE WIND

THAT KEEPS ON CARRING US FROM PLACE TO PLACE.

RECITING OUR NAMES:

ROSE OF JERICHO

DESSERT FLOWER

CREEKS ARE SWELLING,

EARTH GIVES MOIST FOR TOO LONG DRIED OUT VISIONS

AND THE GREEN IS FOSTERING EYES AND HEARTS.

WHILE PURPLE TOUCHES MY LIPS,

OUR HIPS ...

THEY KNOW THE DIRECTION,

THE SWING

BUT A RULING MIND

STILL PROCLAIMING

THIS TO BE A SIN.

I AM WE

AND WE ARE YOU.

AUTHENTIC....TRUE

MAKIN HOME IN THE SPACE IN BETWEEN

BETWEEN ILLUSIONS

TO FIND REALITY...

THAT YOU STILL CALL FANTASIE.

YOUR TWISTED EXISTENCE,

GOT IT ALL MIXED UP...

CALLING RAPE LOVE

AND FREEDOM UTOPIA.

TIME TO SIT WITH THE UNIVERSE

TIME TO BURN THE OLD

AND FOSTER THE NEW WITH IT´S ASHES.

TIME TO SEE THAT THERE IS NO OTHER SOLUTION

THAN BECOMING

(WE)

Past Fullmoon

Holdin you beneath my wandering breasts.

Yes i know,

some things in this valley seem quiet hard to diguest.

closed up, this open book, under surfaces.

cut into bits,

like a cake with missing pieces.

Puzzled...

havn´t yet

tasted on my tongue

the real me.

Still gettin lost on the way,

in the how I should be,

how I should say.

Who´s speakin´?

Who´s askin?

Still figurin´ out the Tetris mess you left,

Still cutting bricks with plastic knifes,

Still playin´ chess without knowing the game.

Indeed,

more gentle from time to time,

I jump,

I fall...

What else to do?

Bittersweet each step

on love street

when cooked with the wrong recipe.

I´m not a cook!

I´m only up service.

I ask you: Which dish is not poiseness at the end?

Where to put the hands when the fingers are missing?

shatterin´ into crumbs

inside the old ladies bag.

no doubt,

just confessin´

a dreamer

that fights with the sleep.

Stumblin on airy feet

sliding on

mother earths arched back.

You screwed me up,

i screw myself together.

To do

and not make undone

I´m the cloudy weather in your sunday shorts

while in the depth

the universe hides.

Blessed with curse.

Please,

Poke me where it hurts.

Slizzering toung

plays the waterfall

between my thighs.

Dipping white into red.

Time to go to bed,

my dearest of all unloved,

Time to sleep on roses.

Thorns turn into flesh

and scars into bonds.

I scoop lost memories

and

breath into the unknown.

It´s said that

lonely wolfs need packs to travel long distances.

I´m learning to sing past fullmoon.

(WE)

Sonntag, 22. März 2015

“Things usually work out in the end.”

“What if they don’t?”

“That just means you haven’t come to the end yet.”

‘(the glass castle’, jeanette walls)

Freitag, 19. Dezember 2014

" No other connection healed the hurt of that first abandonment, that first banishment from love`s paradise. For years I lived my life suspended, trapped by the past, unable to move onto the future. Like every wounded child I just wanted to turn back time and be in the paradise again, in that moment of remembered rapture where I felt loved, where I felt a sense of belonging.
We can never go back. I know that now. We can go forward. We can fid the love our hearts long for, but not until we let go grief about the love we lost long ago, when we were little and had no voice to speak the heart´s longing. All the years of my life I thought I was searching for love I found, retrospectively, to be years where I was simply trying to recover what had been lost, to return to the first home, to get back the rapture of first love. I was not really ready to love or be loved in the present. I was still mourning- clinging to the broken heart of girlhood, to broken connections. When that mourning ceased I was able to love again."

Bell Hooks- all about love, new visions