Feel free reading through some short stories, poems, or a small-sized book (published late in 2022 in german).
„Ein einfaches Leben ist ein Gutes. Angenommen, heute wäre einer dieser Tage an dem alles, was du besitzt viel zu plötzlich verloren geht. Angenommen, du würdest ohne Stress, mit Angst aber ohne Zweifel deinen eigenen Weg gehen. Und angenommen, wir würden uns gegenseitig Geschichten erzählen. Geschichten, an denen wir wachsen und Vertrauen gewinnen. Was wäre, wenn all die elendige Arbeit endlich ihren Sinn verliert? An die, die sich dem Lieben und dem Leben hingeben. Frei und wild. Ehrlich.“
Cold Wings
(June, 2023. Germany)
Oh, a lonely night drops onto my skin.
Above is a cold wing of anger and lust.
Underneath, there’s the working man,
Waiting for our midnight bus.
Oh, what I’d give one million dollars to spend a night with someone of love!
Someone who can hold,
Someone who can be bold.
Someone who wouldn’t care about yesterday’s news.
Oh babe, I’d love to be in love so foolishly true.
Oh babe,
But I return to my blues.
I got this casual taste of melancholy.
Bet a dime I’m standing without shoes.
I crash in the mud and dig potatoes out the earth.
Oh, how love can make me believe!
How the simple idea could set us free.
Liberation on my tongue, tasting his bitter sheds of tears,
Clarification of words and all the lovers sang along.
Imagine we are in love! Together, one day.
Babe no, I’ll return to my blues.
Will I be loved and make you believe?
Oh bitter me,
what a foolish truth.
All I have in my mind,
is someone to love.
Is it you?
Singing humility
(english translation from „Ein Akt der Hoffnung“, written August 2022, Natalie Lübker)
Yesterday I felt the urge to write many short stories. Stories about the people in their places, big or small, with their lives and their customs. I have enjoyed hiding in small cafes and retreating lonely and alone in one of the many corners. I am most pleased to live in a country where the language is foreign to me.
Today we find ourselves again in Lisbon, the province of Portugal. The Fox Coffee offers me today needed inspiration and impressions, on a rather modest day, to write.
One Sunday after the next passes and no Sunday is like the miserable long days below the week. A glorious summer day in fresh August. The Portuguese wind cools the sweat drops on my forehead. Especially the cool breeze that tickles me between the legs pleases me. One of the best experiences in my so far experience of being a woman is to choose airy dresses and skirts and cheeky, even brazenly aware to do without panties. I enjoy being a woman properly when the sun shines and the ego of men slowly but steadily begins to cry.
For almost a year my spirit wanders through Portugal, while the body sticks to the chair and paper and pen escapes no excuse. I still dare not to make a judgment, or to be able to describe the culture. Fascinating, even absolutely inspiring I find the proud humility of the people who cross my path on my way. Today my eyes are tired. Yesterday I got lost in the night in Baixa- Chiado and walked on friendly invitation of a Brazilian into a Fado house. She herself grew up in Blumenau.
In love company we sat humbly at the table and listened to the singers, David and Joana. Just a week before Flamenco contributed to greet me with tears and goose bumps. Flooded with stimuli we devoted ourselves to the singers. Determined we criticized the commerce and tourism as a means to an end. An alleged money machine that makes the artist neither rich nor happy.
Printed paper, which repeatedly loses its value in the 21st century. Better it would be to be alive, instead of just seeming so. Instead of listening to the music, they ate, photographed and ignored. Ignorant chatter marked by stupidity. In conversation with the singers I grasped today’s title of the story. One day I wished to learn to sing humility.
Like Joana, like David.
With our own sorrow, with our own loss and singing the stories that remained silent for years. Singing in humility, with our individual voice. Staying on his way. Turning down the chatter and loud voices for a minute or a lifetime. And then? Then simply and modestly live love.
What a cheekiness. What are we thinking?
Hope
(english translation from „Ein Akt der Hoffnung“, written August 2022, Natalie Lübker)
A summer day is coming to an end.
The sun is on the horizon, the warm breeze kisses our cheeks. Here I sit early in the morning on the balcony. As every morning I enjoy the silence. With full enjoyment I drink a freshly brewed coffee and wipe the tiredness from my face. Sitting in silence and listening to the song of the dear birds.
Yes, life can simply be enjoyed!
Every morning, when I sit here, new hope blossoms in me. A new day, which begins so fresh and benevolent, awaits us. The moist air breathes warmly on me. The sun shines above the horizon. I yawn, without shame, wide open my mouth and mind. The oxygen flows through my mood and so quickly it can happen,
So quickly I feel good again. I have to smile.
My breath calm and peaceful, deep as the ocean. Be it the teachings of hope that accumulates in our lives. That hope that the life we create every day will one day fully match us. Makes us happy and lets us fly one day into the endless sunbeams of light. In the morning she is closest to me. The hope that greets you. The child’s heart is filled with her. And grateful I am, because my coffee tastes simply delightful without sweetener.
Hope that does not go out.
Let us talk together about hope! What stories and thoughts can you share with us? One is held, the other lets himself fall. The next one finds herself in the Garden of Eden. For she will save us in lonely darkness, in shadows and promising tragedies of our being. That hope that sings us songs about a successful tomorrow and erases yesterday from our thoughts. And so hope sings us her own song.
And so I want to promise myself to her.
We carry her in us and are faithful to her. For eternity I may love her. Send her benevolent greetings in gratitude. A friend I can count on.
Mortal I am today.
And hope, she will want to accompany me for eternity for the sake of truth, crooked and skewed and just as perfect.
Mortal I am today. And so I look forward to the day. Hope carries me away over shadows and valleys. She lets us float, all by ourselves for the sake of our own truth.
She may love me for eternity, crooked and skewed and just as perfect.
A simple life is a good one.
Allowing oneself freedom
(english translation from „Ein Akt der Hoffnung“, written August 2022, Natalie Lübker)
The older I get, the more often I give myself the gift of peaceful freedom, the more I distance myself from social norms. Those norms that cause nothing but unhappiness and bitterness. The privilege of experiencing, in one’s lifetime, not being trapped and locked up, is not common in our world.
I grew up in a world where I cannot make a fair judgment about the direct consequences of war, poverty and famine. My opinion remains unheard here. What is freedom anyway? When I speak of unfreedoms today, I primarily speak of the misery of our spirit. I speak of the miserable captivity of our own mind. Learned adaptation, lack of self-determination and agonizing suffering, which cannot correspond to our true nature. Gifts of peaceful freedom do not have to cost anything. Nor do they have to make anyone else around you happy. Gifts from us, for us. If writing and art did not remain for me, I would probably have gone crazy with acute frustration. On some days Daniel gets to witness a multi-hour monologue in which I – with crossed arms, stomping through the room – philosophize about the development of humanity. A natural protective mechanism of our body keeps the steaming head from exploding like a hand grenade.
A long, worry-blooded, wild fight. After several months of ascetic lifestyle and practice of mindfulness, I am still amazed today by the intensity of my groundless suffering. We lack tangible substance.
Like a balloon in the wind torn back and forth by external circumstances. Not steadfast against the weather, the opinions of our fellow human beings, the noise of traffic and notifications on our smartphone. The character of the masses is influenced by TikTok, nude pictures and absurd beauty ideals. Shouldn’t their future be more promising? A wasp waist that seems more desirable than sculptures by Michelangelo, works and writings by Da Vinci, Goethe or Schopenhauer. „Brave new world!“, to say it in Huxley’s words. With sarcasm I question why we still make the same mistakes. Why are skin color and sexuality still up for discussion today?
How long will we women have to endure decades of deification and contrasting shame, as well as loud accusation, humiliation and adoration – how long will it take until man and woman, until we as a species human, will embrace our true nature in peace?
Who has the right to take away our freedom? Where are the thinkers who rack their brains?
Hidden behind the equanimity in spirit, love at home and behind stormy truths of our hearts. A beautiful new world we have created for ourselves. I’ll be somewhere else.
A Letter of Desire
(2022, Portugal)
I believe, if love and hope engage each other’s soul one day,
we might find a letter of desire.
A reason to be alive, if one of us is courageous enough to strive.
The thought of your smile and soft skin,
with the longing you keep hidden within.
The blink of your eyes made dreams of mine sparkle.
Look at the bright full moon above, right there.
It’s coming soon, our time to look up.
The stars, how beautifully they shine in your favour. Willingly my gaze towards you, blinded by faith.
I just wished for another chance to kiss you.
A letter of desire,
A poem by a woman’s beloved heart,
A darkness that dances.
While the sun arises, I wish you had received the letters I wrote about your presence in the past.
Having a glance into your life became an endless reason for me to fight,
to fight against all odds,
to stay grounded on earth.
Keeping wild hearts brave,
Keeping the love we shared
In the ocean’s depth within our eyes.
I wished to kiss your neck and ears just once more,
I loved how you lost yourself within mine.
How you looked at me with this curiosity!
Full of question marks.
I wished to kiss your lips,
Dreaming of you,
Full of question marks.
Just once more.
So,
We may receive the answers we please.
Can’t you see?
(2023, Germany)
Can’t you see the woman in the mirror
The one who wears the quote by Chanel
She smiles with grace and charm and glamour
But hides a secret she won’t tell
Can’t you see the dishwasher behind her
The one that holds the signs of life
It cleans and sanitizes everything
But can’t erase the pain and strife
Can’t you see the ring of fire beside her
The one that bears the eagle’s mark
It burns with passion and devotion
But also casts a shadow dark
Can’t you see the collage before you
The one that tells a story true
It shows the beauty and the sorrow
But also asks a question: who are you?
Live and let live
(english translation from „Ein Akt der Hoffnung“, written August 2022, Natalie Lübker)
The hope that lets us live. The faith that lets us love. The trust in the beauty of the human soul. The love that makes me laugh again.
A story that will give us blissful joy.
Simple words of simplicity. A mild, sober specimen. Bright spring awakening and warm sunshine, reflected on golden embossed skin.
Salty, so sing the joyful birds. A café I saw on the exposed lake. Tired eyes for detail. True friendship for life.
Relieve the soul and finally let go. Our mind, as fickle and unstable as that of a monkey.
Don’t we all deceive ourselves?
My shadow follows me, a drama for eternity. Fresh air gives us a clear view, I have to smile wistfully. I even start to laugh.
Today and here a call for the undecided: „Too much of a good thing can be deadly!“.
Tenderly.
Angels embrace you and please don’t forget! Love sets free, love gives in, love gives strength and love is always there.
Transience or not, memento mori and the striving for attractiveness? What senseless banality. Find the blessed silence in the intoxicating noise.
A colorful fair and loud roar. We learn different languages carefully.
No power to drugs.
The degree between love and narcissistic power. Foggy neologisms, cinematic metaphors, driven politicians and their senseless exaggerations.
You must not lose hope in the good in people.
Sudden loss of face.
The sun burns my lifeless face. The youthfulness of our souls in the mercy of loneliness. Alone we are. Alone with our transience. Blinded we run around in a panicked society. We were disciplined deaf and dumb. Art would be criticized many times and decreed as unnecessary. War would end in a dream.
Otherness would be lovingly embraced.
Relieve the soul and finally let go. The lesson is simple: „Live and let live!“.
Angels embrace you and don’t forget!
Love sets free, love gives in, love gives us strength and love is always there