Martina Pfeiler

My First Poems

To My Lyrical I

And here I tell you, oh lyrical I,
that you need to sharpen
your poetic eye:
Watch out for the inexplicable
cold and hot streams
in us, in you.

Discover the hidden depths
of the unconscious
in us, in you.

Monitor the melodramatic
self-pity on a misty evening
in us, in you.

Spot the concealed
secrets of joyful life
in us, in you.

Consider the sacred
principles of liberty,
in us, in you.

Observere injustice in the world.
Observe it AND speak it out!

Choose your words wisely,
yet be intuitive. –

And you will never, I promise,
choke on your own words.

After all, lyrical I, YOU HAVE GOT MY WORD.

Capture My Release

I’m fighting for freedom in chains-
with the key in my hand that has locked me up.

Chasing myself, hounding myself, torturing myself.
Hunting after my submission, fighting for my release.
Seeking my surrender, pursuing my liberation.

Letting me escape.
Release. Releave.
Fortunate freedom.

Leaving me imprisioned.
Caught. Kept.
Sacred security.

I’m fighting for sanity, mind-boggling, brain-washed, bound, yet free,
escaping to love, loving to escape,


I’m sitting on a bench in front of
a city’s main train station in Austria.

There’s loud music coming from a
place – a promotion gig for a
politician – a social democrat.

„Good morning future“, a slogan says.
They are distributing cold coke cans to cool kids,
when suddenly my eyes catch an old, homeless woman
passing by, searching for something to drink in one
of the waste bins.

I’m thinking of her and the politician and my heart
crumbles to the size of an ice-cube while the letters of
the slogan dissolve and emerge again as

Life is so full of messages today,
I even happen to look at the display
of my solar pocket calculator
to check
if God has sent me an e-mail.

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