Ode to Schrebber

With her yellowish eyes
She waited for the opportunity
To express her animal cruelty
In shadow and in light
She appears to be in a state of fright
Looking for an invisible pray
Chasing around and in a strange way
Unsatisfied she yawns and cuddles up in a corner
Looks at me and penetrates with her pupils
“Aren’t you going to play with me?”

I always loved writing especially prose. I even nearly made a short movie based on one of my stories but it never happened for various reasons. I still hope that one day I can put it into film. Later on my friend admitted that he used it to get into film school. First I was happy that the story was so good but then I felt a bit upset that he used it as his without asking. Needless to say that situations like this happened on several occasions.
Recently I started reminiscing about when I used to work for tv and record labels and hang around with actors, musicians and artists. Myself and those around me strongly believed that I will succeed ( I also believed in their future success). I did not have a particular talent. Neither could act nor sing in an amazing way but I had a spark and energy and I was very passsionate. I could light up any situation with my positivism and sense of humour.
The times then where very fresh and crisp everything was starting – it was a new era. We were the new generation with no competition. At least it never felt like there is a need to compete. Everything was just happening naturally. (Christian you would know exactly what I’m talking about.)
Leaving the country and starting a new life changed it all. Back home we did it because we had a need of creating and sharing. Here it felt like business, not mentioning that I could not afford financially to concentrate on my creativity. I guess the fact that I never had to pay rent back home helped…
In recent years I deeply feel that my spark has mostly gone ( or is well hidden ) due to trusting certain people and being hurt and also due to bureaucrats and energy vampires who haunt us. What is left is the passion. Everything has to be black or white for me. Warwick made me promise that I will start writing again. Is it time to find my creative self again? It is certainly worth a shot.
So here is one to you Schrebby.

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