Archive for the ‘Uniworse’ Category


Saturday, May 9th, 2009

Raymond Passworthy: Oh, God, is there ever to be any age of happiness? Is there never to be any rest?

Oswald Cabal: Rest enough for the individual man – too much, and too soon – and we call it death. But for Man, no rest and no ending. He must go on, conquest beyond conquest. First this little planet with its winds and ways, and then all the laws of mind and matter that restrain him. Then the planets about him and at last out across immensity to the stars. And when he has conquered all the deeps of space and all the mysteries of time, still he will be beginning.

Raymond Passworthy: But… we’re such little creatures. Poor humanity’s so fragile, so weak. Little… little animals.

Oswald Cabal: Little animals. If we’re no more than animals, we must snatch each little scrap of happiness and live and suffer and pass, mattering no more than all the other animals do or have done. Is it this? Or that? All the universe? Or nothingness? Which shall it be, Passworthy? Which shall it be?

Dialogue from H.G. Wells’ “Shape of things to come”, 1936

At war with Death – Rest in Peace Roland

Sunday, May 3rd, 2009

Dear Roland!

Do you remember the olden times?
I was 14 or 15, you where 5 years older…
We used to live in the same appartment complex.

You where just my 2nd degree cousin
but for me you where the big brother at that time,
the brother I so desperately longed for…

You where a gifted one,
a great painter and graphic artist,
a beautiful, tall and sportive guy,
a real ladies man
and everybody only had the highest hopes for and expectations in you.

Maybe thats why it all went wrong…

You where already heavy into drinkin,
and as a good and proud little brother I joined you.

I used to leave for school around 7,
but hid near my house where I could see when my mother left for work,
then we met, went to the supermarket, bought our first 2 litres of wine,
and sat at my moms place drinkin…
around noon we got the next bottles of wine
and usually passed out drunk sometime in the afternoon…
Before mom came home, we got up again,
scored some liquor and where off to the nearby woods
to continue drinking, and drinkin, and drinking……

After mom went to bed, I got home,
tryin not to wake her, so she wouldn’t see the state i was in.

It went like that for about 2 years,
till I woke up puking everyday,
till I had dropped out of school cause i haven’t been there enough anyway.

I realised then, this would kill me sooner or later,
so I tried to keep away from you….

I found a girl,
stopped drinking,
avoided contact with you..

I wasn’t strong enough to keep you from going on,
and i didn’t want to drown in your downward spiral…

I think over the last 20 years, I only saw you a cpl of times,
you where always drunk, it was always an akward feeling to see you…

Last tuesday you died,
your inner organs quit on you,
like me and so many people who loved you,
but didn’t have the power to help.

You where a gifted one my friend
I don’t feel guilty for deserting you as a reflex of self preservation,
but I am terribly and deeply sorry I was in no position to help you…

I missed you those last years,
and I will always miss you

I love you


P.s.: Hard to still believe it might all be just one big fucking joke !!

At war with Death – Rest in Peace Auntie Herta

Wednesday, February 18th, 2009

Herta Oeltze
born Aug. 26th 1931 (as Herta Plank)
died Feb. 18th 2009

The dark and cold one,
the eternal,
the unescapable,
remorselessly swung his scythe again,
taking another member of my family,
into the depths of his realm…

It’s hard to tell anyone about my dear Aunt Herta,
without evoking the picture of an unlikeable person
in someone who did not know her.

She was a harsh person,
extremely negative in her perception of the world,
widow to a small time con artist and womanizer,
mother of two sons and a late born daughter,
none of those made it easy for her,
none of those had it easy with her.

She partly raised my father and
also took me under her wings,
when our mothers where to busy working,
eagerly trying to provide for their sons.

(Great-) Aunt Herta,
bitter and dark as she was,
had a heart as big as a mountain,
truly loved her sons and nephews,
not only despite but also because
we where dodgers, rascals and pranksters.

Aunt Herta left us at the age of almost 78,
when she began to lack the power to provide for herself,
when the retirement home seemed the only way to go,
if she wanted to survive.

I regret not having visited her when she was in hospital
some weeks ago,
too agonised I think I was by my experiences with Viola,
not wishing to witness another of my kin fade away.
So I missed that opportunity to say goodbye.

I am sorry Auntie, deeply so.

So, grim reaper,
i strongly suggest,
when Aunt Herta is cooking something for you,
you’d best take your place at the table immediately,
with washed hands,
sit upright,
show manners,
eat up and don’t forget to praise her cooking skills adequately,
treat this woman with respect,
or she’ll show you,
I can promise that.

Herta, you where one of my darkest stars,
and deep down you knew,
and you taught me in many ways,
It’s all just one big fucking Joke!!

Thank you
with all my heart
your rascal Patrick

At War with Death – R.I.P. Viola

Sunday, February 8th, 2009

Once again,
deaths ugly face was looming over someone close to me,
his foul stench sending shivers down my spine,
his vicinity making my entrails cramp up
and sending wave after wave of fear through my soul.

Once again, death struck without remorse,
taking the life of a 26 year old girl.
His shadow was cast over her life for 10 years,
He lured her in,
making it impossible for her to fight against him,
making her afraid of a long and hard way to recovery
with no certainity of success,
not granting her a great enough reason to live,
to overcome his cold and iron grip.

On December the 27th 2008 my cousin

On December the 27th 2008 my cousin
my greatest ally in this generation of my family
after my sister died,
a kindred soul,
a soul way to young,
finally perished after weeks in coma.

So I try to face reality,
with yet another dear relative and friend gone,
and I have to ask myself

could she have beeen forced to fight?
can she have been forced to live?
Was the decision up to her?
Was she able to make the decision herself?
Was her mind free enough of pain and fear,
to truly see what was ahead of her?
Was she only lacking the trust in herself to get better on her own free will?

and more thoughts keep echoing through my head:

Can I help, what I don’t understand?
can I interfere,
judging only on basis of the little I know?
What if any step I take to help
worsens the situation because I didn’t assess it right?

What remains is a deep and agonising feeling of being powerless,
being empty,
being cheated and robbed by a greater power,
being left back alone…

I dread letting my grief take over,
I dread letting the tears flow,
because I would not be sure how to stop them again,
how to dig myself out of the deep black hole
that the pain seems to be digging for me.

I dread letting the image of her dead body
on a hospital bed rise to my mind,
ready to pull me down and away in a spiral of sorrow
that might know no escaping.

And still i will have to confront these emotions,
learn to embrace them,
deal with them,
for I cannot afford to suppress them,
to be haunted by them for years like it was
after Levin’s and my sisters death,
when those feelings snatched me from behind,
almost making my own survival an uncertainty.

I want to cry, I want to weep,
I want to scream in anger and despair,
I want to be held tight,
I want my head and hair to be stroked,
while being whisperd to:

“Let it flow,
it’s all good,
let the pain rise and flow through you.
Let it flow,
and don’t be afraid,
because you will live,
don’t be afraid.”

On January 9th 2009,
we buried Violas young body,
and with that the hopes and dreams of her family and friends,
but not the love and affection shared for her.


why couldn’t you see,
in the end
and in this case, TRULY A JOKE TO CHOKE ON

Viola Nicole Hackermueller, *4.12.1982 – †27.12.2008

P.S.: I wish I could hate you for leaving me alone…but I can not.


Friday, December 12th, 2008

At War with herself

At War with Death

Monday, December 1st, 2008

Once again,
deaths ugly face is looming over someone close to me,
his foul stench sends shivers down my spine,
his vincinity makes my entrails cramp up
and sends wave after wave of fear through my soul.

And maybe induced by this,
last friday i had the most disturbing nightmare,
that hasn’t let me go again since.

I was roaming through the night,
a big city, not the one I usually dream about,
no bigger version of my home town,
no deep canals or deep dark alleys of centuries old houses,
but a modern and glimmering metropolis.

Accompanied I was by somewhat preternatural fellows,
pale and cold, clearly creatures of the night,
and we moved from skyscraper roof to skyscraper roof,
always intimidating to me because i suffer heavily from vertigo,
and no less intimidating in this dream,
but I managed to follow my companions.

Later we land in a side alley,
a narrow passage between two skyscrapers,
and one of the windowless walls is over and over covered with concert posters,
announcements of events past and still to come.

There we rested, when I heard the most disturbing sound,
screams and screaches of an unearthly quality and
it seemed to come from inside the wall.
Inquisiting my band of pale friends I learned,
this was called the “Wall of sorrow”
and it was souls of people that where incarcerated there.

I walked over to the wall,
raised my hands to touch it and lay my ear against it,
to better hear
while my preternatural companions wondered
why I was able to notice the sounds at all,
without being one of their brotherhood.

Touching the wall i felt no resistence,
my hands passed right inside,
and almost uninteded i grabbed something and pulled it out.

A white wrath,
a pain ridden face,
a torso with arms and head,
and it screeched, it screeched like in the worst pain ever,
while it quickly dissolved like smoke in my hands,
its traces drifting upwards before they dissappeared completely,
and the wailing faded away.

Shocked I reached inside the wall again,
pulled out another entity
and wide eyed stared again,
as it disapeared as did the first.

and another
and another

until my friends ,
who watched in wonder and disbelieve
pulled me away,
hastily and with fear trying to stop me
and telling me,
I was destroying those souls.

Not that they knew that exactly,
but long ago,
when dicovering the wall,
and seeing the pain it seemed to induce when the ghosts where freed,
they decided to leave them inside,
that maybe this wall was exactly the place they should be.

I tried to argue,
that maybe the dissolving of the souls energy was indeed painful,
but that might be the way of trancending to a higher plane,
or the re-unification with the universe,
that the pain also might just be the shock of being pulled out of limbo
that probably was percieved to be lasting forever

…then I woke up
5 a.m.
only had slept for three hours

as always when waking up,
i lit up a cigarette and drank up the tea i had left when goin to bed.
and one thought kept echoing through my head:

Can I help, what I don’t understand?
can I interfere,
judging only on basis of the little I know?
What if any step I take to help
worsens the situation because I didn’t assess it right?

So I face reality,
with a dear relative close to death
intentionally or unintended not willing to fight for life,
maybe afraid of a long and hard way to recovery,
with no certainity of success,
and I have to ask myself

can she be forced to fight?
can she be forced to live?
Is the decision up to her?
Can she make the decision herself?
Is her mind free enough of pain and fear,
to truly see whats ahead of her?
Is she only lacking the trust in herself to get better on her own free will?

Yesterday her body gave up again,
she is in an induced coma in intensive care now.
Fate once again took the decision out of our own hands,
as long as she is in hospital she will be cared for,
and most probably survive.

What happens when she gets out,
it’s in her own hands,
and I truly hope,
I pray to the gods and the dark stars,
I pray that I will not have to ask myself the questions above again.

Please Viola

don’t you see
in the end

please girl, learn to laugh with me…

ed. note: next thursday is Viola’s 26th birthday

At war with a friend

Tuesday, October 7th, 2008

Friends will be friends,
at least the real friends,
those you embrace in brotherly love.

But as life is,
sometimes you cannot avoid hurting your brother.
Sometimes achieving a goal,
meeting one of your own needs,
satisfying a dire desire,
requires us to act,
act without remorse,
act without hesitation.

Sometimes a friend might be in the way,
blocking your path,
maybe because out of care for you,
maybe because he is askin for your loyalty in this case,
maybe even on purpose,
simply to stay in control.
just so you might not have,
what he does not want.
Most surely because he does not understand,
what it is worth to you…

And you act,
your friend gets hurt,
he takes it as a strike against him,
and he deals a few blows back.

And there we stand,
blades crossed,
a few wounds bleeding.

And there we stand,
blades crossed,
without motion.

Friends, brothers,
eye to eye,
blades locked,
afraid to move,
afraid to have to inflict more pain,
unable to draw back,
unwilling to give the opponent the possibility to strike again.

Old and small wounds have broken open,
the little missunderstandings,
the small scars we never mentioned
for not wanting to raise conflict where none should be.

But it all is acute now,
as we stand there,
blades crossed,
without motion.

It is the male dance,
the second oldest dance on earth,
invented minutes after discovering the dance of love.
It’s ridiculously pathetic, and still of wonderful grandeur.
It’s our oldest and deepest habits,
it has always been there,
it utilised rocks, spears, blades, guns,
and most of all, it utilises our hearts and minds.
And as it is,
between friends and brothers
it utilises the deadliest weapon of all,
the spoken word.
Spoken to you or about you.
Spoken out of pain, disappoinment, maybe jealousy,
to justify your anger in the face of bystanders.

And there we stand,
blades crossed,
locked tightly,
unable to move,
eye to eye.
what will it be brother, what will it be.

The wounds are deep,
the scars will heal never again,
on neither side.
Whats done is done.

But I will not back off my goal,
but i never meant any harm,
and I will never regret my decision to act as I did.
As I, and I alone will have to suffer the consequences,
and a friend will not judge and fight but understand and assist.

And there we stand,
and my blade will remain silent,
as long its not forced.
What will it be brother, what will it be.

After all, in these tense times,
we should never forget:

It’s all just one big fucking Joke !!


Sunday, August 31st, 2008

sometimes when I managed to piss everyone off,
sometimes when finally everybody has a reason to be angry or mad at me,
sometimes when people lose all hope in me,
then I fell free,
free of the pressure to comply,
free of expectations set in me,

Silence engulfs me,
quiet are the voices of my conscience,
“…you should do this, you should do that…”.
Silent is the heart and it’s desire to be loved.
Silent is my angered temper.
Armistice with the Universe.


I know I will have to work hard to repair broken trust,
but that is then,
and I know I can manage.
First I have to forgive myself,
which I already did.

All too easy,
for the gain of it
is this sweet soothing silence.
At peace with myself.

I am me.
It is good.
Let me go,
and I will come back.

For now I am free,
I dwell in silence.
and it is good.

No joke.
Ironically, I thank you Universe.
Unilateral cease fire – for now.


Thursday, August 28th, 2008

It’s election time in the small but beautiful country of Austria,
8th richest country in the world, nested nicely in the center of Europe,
far off crisis, hunger, war, whatever …

two (or three) of our 5 mentionable political parties think,
it is wise to make immigration policies the main concern of their electoral campains.

Thinking back in time a bit, we have to realise, that we strongly rely on the “old Austria”, the Monarchy, a multinational Empire, to justify the graetness of  the state we have today.

Thinking back in time a bit, we might realise that the unequal treatment of all those nationalities, that the priveleging of german speaking groups lead to the break-up of the monarchy and to World War one.

Thinking back in time a bit, we might realise that german xenophobia, that the blaming of others, outsiders, foreigners etc.and the the genocide and war  that followed (world war nr. two) nearly lead to the extinction of our oh so cherrished “german race”, and it only depended on the goodwill of the allied forces, that our “total war” wasn’t answered with total annihalation.

And yet again I have to hear this voices…

“Our Culture is undermined by foreigners…”
- What culture?
Eating Pizza and Hamburgers, watching baywatch and talk shows? Is that  the  “german culture” you are trying to protect?
Realise this : THE german culture you are thinking about was erased along WW2,
which i am honestly glad about. We have a german speaking culture now, great artists and what so ever, but none of that is endangered by foreign influence.
Thinking hard you have to conclude, that a culture free of influence will stop developing, stagnation will prevail and be the beginning of the downfall of that culture.

“They outgrow our population”
-Yes they might do, but why?
Is there a secret masterplan by turks to make as many babies as they can to overthrow the germans?
Or might it just be , that we are so complacent, so comfortable with our wealth  that we don’t want to share, that we stopped procreating? Is it wise for a nation, that lost about half up to 2/3 of it’s male populace in the last war, to have only one child per family, if they have kids at all?
Thinking hard we have to conclude, that the greatest enemy of our nation, is our disability to share our wealth with those who might are the key to our survival, our children.

“They take away our Jobs”
- Ya sure !!!
I forgot how eager austrians are to get jobs as room cleaners, and as helpers on building sites etc.
Thinking hard I don’t even want to answer that one.

“They are all criminals”
There are a lot of foreigners here, that are waiting for the authorities to decide weather their plea for asylum is granted or not. They are not allowed to work officially in that time. That time can stretch for months and years. So naturally they are easy prey for those, who need a helping hand in crime.
of course there are others too, those who are affiliated with international organized crime, but they don’t have much to do with those people who want to live in Austria anyway.
Thinking hard one has to conclude, the average foreigner is no more criminal than the average austrian, but settled in lower social classes by nature, and therefore much more tempted by crime.

“…those muslim women and their headwear..”
-Hooooold it right there …..
I remember a time, back in the 70′s, when in the austrian countryside a woman that wasn’t covering her hair with a rag was considered a “big city whore”, a “wife of the devil” in the eyes of the majorly fundamental catholic populace.
Thinking hard I have to conclude, that our society grants a little more freedom to women than maybe some muslims, but hey, this advantage we think of is one of years or decades at the most, not centuries like many claim. And isnt it maybe an advantage in the direction of decadence? So think hard about your own religions customs, before you judge others.

“…they should learn german, if they want to live here”
Like all those austrians in foreign countries, who either expect the people there to speak german also, or even worse, to understand austrian english.
Thinking hard we have to conclude, everyone that is living anywhere, without learning the dominant language, is causing himself more troubes than to anyone else. because it’s diminishing his job chances, his success in everyday life. So be it. Everyone is the master of his own life.

Hmmm, whilst writing this, I answered another one of my questions..
Why is it so easy to catch people with nationalist or racist phrases?

Thinking hard, I have to conlude that NOT being a nationalist, NOT being a racist requires to think hard, to have some knowledge of your own peoples past, requires not being ignorant.

“Tough thing to ask from an average person.”
At least that seems to be the way our polititians think about their people.

Thinking hard i have to conclude, it’s time we showed them.
Showed them nationalist phrases are not enough to win an election,
show them the average austrian is not as stupid and ignorant as our leaders might think.

VOTE, and vote for what YOU think is right,
and i beg you,
THINK HARD before you do that !!!

(being aware of the probable outcome of these elections which will put me to tears,  i am glad to know:)
It’s all just one big fucking joke!

It has to be, please universe, let it be a joke !!!!

P.S., special word to my fellow austrians:
Keep in mind, that, on a genetic basis, we are far more german speaking slavs, than dark haired germans !!!

For the world is hollow

Saturday, August 16th, 2008

as reoccurring notion,
it seems to me the world is hollow,
not in a material way,
but the absolute depriviation of purpose,
and an absolute emptyness takes over my heart.

Can one enjoy something,
whilst fearing, whilst knowing it’s going to end?
Isn’t that fear often responsible for this end in the first place?

On the other side,
why is it,
that when chosing a path that will and must ultimately result in pain or failure,
that seems to be doomed from the start,
that shows it’s obstacles so clearly,
I still keep going down that path,
trying to indulge in the little good that may come from it,
just because my feelings tell me to do so?

Why is doing the right thing so boring,
for the outcome is predictable,
and why is doing the opposite so fulfilling,
despite the trouble, pain and grief caused by it,
only because the unknown outcome promises suspense?

Why do I keep disappointing people that have high hopes in me,
before I can satisfy them,
whilst being able to do anything for those who don’t care anyway.

Why am I good at things,
and still lack the ability to exploit that talents?

Is it truly so,
that I have to battle for life,
to feel alive?

Is causing or getting into trouble
and then trying to survive
my only driving force?

as reoccurring notion,
it seems to me that I am hollow,
not in a literal way,
but the absolute depriviation of purpose,
and an absolute emptyness takes over my heart.

As I write this, the moons light is plotted out by the earths shadow for some hours,
a total eclipse of the moon,
at a very special date for me personaly,
which is yet again proof that