***
a knight on a horse,
riding a rocky path,
his dog next to him,
meets death on his way,
in the background a city.
***

***
six, twelve, nine.
thirteen, seven, eight.
three, five, five.
drinks, dive, trust.
try, think, dust
***

***
a bridge, scorched yellow palms
from the summer-sleeping house
drowsing through august.
days i have held, days i have lost.
***

***
flowers, hands.
dance, talk, eyes.
walk, friends.
silence, sleep, chair.
sun, snow, numb.
run, clap, colours.
***

phat triple vinyl album from alexander kowalski , top !!

breakthroughs,
flips and crucifixions.
highs, epiphanies, despairs.
ten year’s animal screams
and virgin suicides.
mad generation and us,
down on the rocks of time.

2018 repress in black sleeve.

***
drifting flesh doorways
attack electric afternoons
silver flying scanning
patterns metal satellites
***

repress on black vinyl.

***
the ground you walked on
twenty years ago.
a dash of daylight.
dawn words and the vacuum
of silent panic.
***

***
mord.
morderstwo.
rotterdam.
herdersmat.
***

***
our grief falls flat and hollow
upon the billion-blooded sea.
these mad dogs of glory
moving this little bit of light toward us.
it was a shameful waste of
madhouse time.
***

***
i run child-like
with god’s anger a step behind,
back to simple sunlight,
wondering
with curled smile
if anyone else
saw or sensed my crime
***

***
beatings against the wire fence
down in the sand and the alleys
sinners watched the evening news
confessions punched-in
cuffed-out and divided
held like a crucifix in a deathhand
***

***
they stood in silence
brushed the dew
from their sleepy eyes
wandered violent paths
to get away from it all
***

***
mord.
morderstwo.
rotterdam.
herdersmat.
***

second mordbox in the herdersmat series. part 9-15, includes 7 vinyls with 30 previously unreleased tracks by 30 artists, all packed in a vinyl box, including free digital versions of all tracks.

ontal on mord.

the low yellow moon
rises from gray rain pavements
traffics in bleak brown air
the iron sounds
of cities radar television
slouch waiting
for apocalypse

she’s daffodils and morphine,
the tender cannonade of
lovesick napalm.
she’s the trapeze wire
in a thunderstorm.
enkindle me cruelly.

pinball machine streets.
teen age future.
molotov cocktails.
terminal electric voices.
unimaginable disaster.

the ghost am i
of winds that die
alike on land or sea,
in silence deep
to shroud and keep
their mournful memory.

moonlit bat
on a silent wing
midsummer hunt
her face well turned away
from the memory of the one
who did her so great a wrong

candy rainbows.
united, caged,
in fatal years.
mankind, eternity
and all of us

obsidian mornings,
sniffing quivering needs.
dawn keeps falling,
entraps me as before,
but from thy solitary grace
thou comest now no more.

we listened to the breeze,
tempting us to fly.
like the crawling wolves,
shadowless we lie.
doomed.

the women break vases against the walls
and the men drink too much,
crawling in and out of beds.
alone with everybody,
we are all trapped.

bangin percussive prime time techno

breakthroughs,
flips and crucifixions.
highs, epiphanies, despairs.
ten year’s animal screams
and virgin suicides.
mad generation and us,
down on the rocks of time.

***
the mist, rewakened from the wave,
enfolds me as before,
but from thy solitary grave
thou comest now no more.
***

the vital vapors to absorb,
the moon, with famished gaze,
suspends his lean, malignant orb
above a dying day.

***
needle scars.
our last lullaby.
cold winter morning,
the affairs of his life pass by.
***

my coward confessions
of cupidity and sin.
my red blooded eyes,
murders of innocence.
wash away my stains,
pour some acid rain.

a silver ribbon of a road
threaded through vertical hills
a shallow creek sparkling cold
release me

snakes are poor denizens of hell
have come surreptitioning
through the tall grass
to face the pool of clear frogs

the great skies are open.
candor of vapor
and tent spitting blood.
laugh and drunken penance.

the box contains 7 x 12 inch vinyls, is sealed in plastic and features 28 fresh tunes by 28 artists. a download card for all digital files + 4 mord logo stickers are included in the package.

early support by: marcel dettmann, takaaki itoh, gary beck, dvs1, adam beyer, randomer, jeroen search, speedy j, jonas kopp, tommy four seven,slam, mosca, psyk, paul mac, nx1, manni dee, progression, scalameriya, thomas hessler, juho kusti, ryuji takeuchi, mr jones, anfs, dustin zahn, kyle geiger, joton, paul birken, hector oaks, charlton, dario zenker, kwartz, dimi angelis, drvg cvltvre, stranger, mikael jonasson, arnaud le textier, dax j, jerome hill, 3.14, pfirter, echologist, darko esser, tripeo, endlec, stenny, clouds, i/y, rivet, henning baer, dave tarrida, rolf mulder, w.i.r.e, shdw, pacou, patrick dsp, ansome, sebastian krenzlin, rebekah, gareth wild, domenico crisci, perc, setaoc mass, j.tijn, radial, aiken, the black dog, ness, developer, exium, sawf, joseph capriati, svreca, shards, truss, truncate, myler, inigo kennedy, advanced human, operator

crystal morning.
sniffing quivering need,
running in the gutter,
where cold flesh circulates,
where is he now?

these are the flowers of sleep
that nod in the heavy noon
ere the brown shades eastward creep
to a drowsy and dreamful tune,
these are the flowers of sleep.

if i never see you again
i will always carry you
inside
outside
and in centers
center
of what i am of
what remains

when the violets roar at the sun
they ll set us free
and they ve got us in their cage
ruined of grace and senses
and the heart roars like a lion
for what they ve done to us

i want to let her know though
that all the nights
sleeping beside her
even the useless arguments
were things ever splendid
and the hard words
i ever feared to say
can now be said:
our bones like stems into the sky
will forever cry victory.

he strode towards a long drink.
running in the gutter,
scanning patterns.
skin staring, stirring unbelief.
scarred metal faces
on the iron streets,
spitting blood.

almost dawn
blackbirds on the telephone wire
waiting
as i eat yesterdays
forgotten sandwich
at 6 a.m.
on a loud monday morning.

i will remember the kisses our lips raw with love and how you gave me everything you had and how i offered you what was left of me.

for i was wide awake, it was no dream. a tree with spreading branches and with leaves of divers kinds, dead silver and live gold, shimmering in radiance that no words may tell.

when puppets turn to face the puppet master, the air reeks of triumph and catastrophe. for a price, i could make it go away. for a price, i could steer their hearts your way.

i walk onto the blazing sunshine. the whole day is mine temporariliy, anyhow.