My center

I am my center, my priority, and my anchor.
I say it loud because that’s what counts.
Spend with me every day, there is no break.

I see my face the mirror and have no choice. Everything
I’ll ever find there, that’s right, that’s me.
I can replace the mirror, I can clean it.
No matter what I do, as soon as I look in again, I see only one thing: me.

Get up every morning, grateful for the day that I know well, is not granted. I am always myself. No matter where I go, who I talk to. May surround me with ugly souls or with beautiful ones. My soul, this one, belongs to me.

Every night, I close my eyes, whatever the day brought me,
do not spend too much time on what the night holds for me.
Isn’t it true that in this universe there are more things that I cannot influence than those that fit my desires?

My focus, that’s me.
I am an egoist, believe me, but I am a nice one, too.  In the first place, it has to be me, there is no other possibility.
I can work on who I want to be and how my own rating turns out.
Only then, because that’s really early enough, I reach out to help those I love. To love. To sacrifice myself for those who belong to me.
I’m able to decide that, now strong enough, my own anchor, that’s me.

Love is that easy

Someone once told me, „Real love can be so easy“ and I thought ‘ if it’s easy, it’s not real’.
I did not understand what he meant when he said:
„True love is what’s  worth fighting for“,
but why to fight, if it’s so easy?

No matter how I turned it and turned it, it did not seem to fit together.
The dramatic love story, going to be easy?
A fight for something, that is so down-to-earth?
There was probably a difference between „true“ and „real” love, I thought.

„Love is easy, hate is hard,“ I read somewhere.
Truly, hate was exhausting and wild.
Not desirable. Simple love, on the other hand, or just love, was, what everyone wants.
I knew one thing for sure: I could not find it.
It had to find me for sure.

For a brief moment, I thought I was found. „Simple Love“, it was pleasant, like a cool
breeze, on a hot summer day. I wanted to keep it close.
Until I did not want it anymore, the friendship that was not Love at all.

On our day, the day of „true, real and simple love“,
I did not know what was waiting for me. Didn’t look for it.
My instincts, far from acceptable. I was unable to find anything, for sure.

But there he stood, my love. The truth.
The love worth fighting for.
Easy, because loving him, is easy as breathing.
A fight, so much bigger than myself, than us.
The certainty, that our love will always be greater.
A force. Simple, easy as breathing. Worth fighting.

Last word

„I have the last word“,
„Do not always talk back to me“,
„Who laughs last, laughs best“.

The damn last word,
incomprehensible, which is why it is so special.
Nevertheless, I would like to have it. My statement counts, everything that comes afterward
is just sound and smoke. The last, very last word.

Talking back, not only an issue with kids.
At least they are still very unvarnished, honest.
When we grow older, it comes less like “out of a gun”, but
more „behind the back of the other, as soon as he left the room, we get our knife ready“.
No objection! Absolutely none at all!

The last laugh, this best, most beautiful laugh.
Beaming with joy, looking for revenge. Is this
but clearly the reason for our laughter: the one who fooled us first,
is the one being fooled in the end. So much fun! Simply the very best, last laugh.

How about first words then?
The first step in every conversation.
Not important, because it is the first and not the last word?

What to do if the talking back is: „but of course, I love you!“
The assurance to our beloved, that our feelings have not changed.
They are not going to change. No matter the crazy thoughts our partner has for a second.

How good would be the first and last laugh, if no one laughs about on another or that successful revenge? Wouldn’t that be a reason to laugh first, last and in between?

Acrylic on paper, 45×60 cms,©JJBUETTNER


Human pain

They die, the birds, after their last trip to the south.
Some cannot make it. Too hard the flight.
The wind takes them with it. Where are they going, they already know the sky, so do they know heaven?

They fall, the leaves. Their lifetime so short, the blooming
vanished. They die, the leaves. The tree lets go off them.
The earth they fall upon is what will remain of them.

They don’t want to let go of people, these humans. You know, they will have no choice.
The thought of one’s own death, the healthy, the sick, all are tormented by that the same.
This last path, the young, the old, the rich and the poor, is what they are all concerned about.

They hope for a life after death, pray that this right here wasn’t all they can expect.
For sure, they don’t want to be done with life. Their existence becomes a nightmare, scourging themselves with the only question: “When?”

They complain when it hits their loved ones, they scream and rage. Almost never is there enough time. How could it be enough, as they want to love, be loved, even more? The human suffering, the end of their life, unimaginable and incomprehensible.
While they should not fill their lives with this, how can they do anything other than being scared of the one thing, they can never control?
They just have so much to lose. All while being so aware of exactly that.

Wild Waters

„Silent waters run deep“, often under the calm surface, there are abilities you’d not have thought would be there.
„Silence is golden“ before you say something inappropriate, it’s better not to say anything at all.

So far so good.

All my life, I was anything but, still water.
Always more „wild water rafting“ instead of „quiet paddling“. I was loud, I was present.
However, not so present that it could indicate insecurity.
Early on, I experienced that although the loud waters often drown out the silent, it does not just benefit you, when you are one of these wild waters.

From how the world sees this topic, I learned a lot:

There are times when you have to pump the breaks. My action is not always needed or wanted.

Also, that some still waters are for sure, not in need of any help. They are doing just fine.

That they can actually be very deep and surprisingly beautiful.

What I did not learn and never want to learn:

Silence is not always gold. Sometimes it’s just cowardly, carrying no pride at all.

There are still waters, which are also very shallow. Even treacherous, sometimes.   You may believe you can look down to the ground, but the rusty nail you step on is right there. You just refused to see it for what it really was.

The risk of drowning is not measured by the silence of the water but is more about whether you are given a life-jacket or not.

„Self-esteem is equal to arrogance,“ is the song that I’m more than sick of hearing, and when they play it, I go aboard, knowing that neither storm or doldrums that may await me, can scare me not to jump.

To deal with the devil

Dealing with the devil is the worst trade. The subject for sale: our soul. Just that very immortal „breeze“ that’s inside of our bodies.
But what’s the worth of a soul though?
While the usual sales platforms are not very helpful in research, we are aware that the purer the soul, the higher the sales price is to be achieved. More money, more recognition, more power. Simply more of everything. That’s the deal.
This brings up another question, that will certainly not be the last:
When and where can we submit our offer?
Here we are, alone in our bed, in complete darkness.
As miserable as we are, we call him, the devil, the evil, the most feared between heaven and hell. Whether we are religious or not, we know that the dark side is not just a fairytale. So, we hope further, a demon may appear to us and judge our offer, giving us a good deal:

„Not bad this soul you are having here, the additional Ferrari will not happen, though. What you have to offer isn’t good enough for that „, growls the beast, while I’m disappointed and a little defiant, too.
„Yes OK. Then I’ll can go down a bit. Leave the Ferrari out. That will be fine with me.
The five million in my account, the villa, and the power I still receive?“, I ask, feeling like an ingenious master of haggling.
„Hm, a bit of provincial power is already in it sure, will not be as much as you may imagine. Like globally. No, no. This soul is more than ok but not excellent. You should have taken better care of it. Do you know what I mean? After all, you do not buy a good, used car, to resell it, looking like garbage, for the same price you got it. A good price can only be achieved with good maintenance and seriously, what I’m willing to pay you is a really fair trade. “

As we smile to ourselves, we think if this is how a deal with the devil might look like.
Why the hell it is then, that nobody ever shows up, if you want to make an offer?
Are these the nights, that do not let us sleep? Those who let us see the truth:
There is no agreement. Not at all.
No artistically and religiously staged pact with the devil. No contract, no pact, and certainly no one who rewards us for promising him our immortal soul.
As if a promise were necessary for that!

What’s the sad truth is, that we deal with the devil on a daily basis. Constantly.
Every day of our lives, in almost every moment, we can and even must decide. Most possibly, the devil does not come along as that dark mythical creature with horns, but he is still there. An evil energy, just waiting for us to reach for it. Every day. Right around the corner.

We do not need a book, a preacher or a teacher, to know what is right and wrong. Our soul, on the other hand, we should pay attention to, because who knows what we may need it for. Every day, for the rest of our existence.

Truth and promise

„Promise we’ll be friends forever,“ Larissa said with a big grin that day at the lake. I remember that moment so well because it was something special. The day was one of the most beautiful in this summer.
Why should you ruin that day with a promise, I thought back then.
Today I know why the promise seemed unnecessary to me.
All those years later Larissa and I are at the airport. On the way to our world trip. Just as we already dreamed of when we were little girls.

„Promise me that you will never stop loving me,“ I heard my brother’s girlfriend whisper. They were just about to go out on this warm summer’s evening. I sat next to my window and overheard the conversation by chance.
„Promise it already,“ she said.
„I promise,“ he grumbled back.
This relationship with my brother, ended as I expected: in ruins.
Our home became a battlefield. The love, the promised never-ending, was no more.
The world says, „Be careful what you promise because you have to keep promises.“

Yes, you have to.
Count on it!
Lies don’t travel far!

I say, „What is true does not have to be promised.“


The day is approaching, the fear overpowering,
That big and devastating farewell approaching, if there was just something to avoid it, anything.

You have to go, I’ll let you go. I’m already on the track,
waving, the train picks up speed, with one of my loved ones in it.

It’s not here yet, I’m comforting myself silently, we still have time.
Not much though, hours go by at the speed of light.

My heart is heavy, I feel alone with my anger and pain,
who is responsible? Why don’t you just stay?

The day has come and the morning is far too early and cold, I look at you
as you sleep, asking my heart when you will be back with me.
I am selfish, just thinking about myself because you are mine, the world
you have to go back to, a dark city without lights.

Your awakening pulls me back from my thoughts,
your smile, my drug, without I don’t want to exist,
your embrace, your kisses, everything about you, brings me back, back from the darkness.

Tears run down my face, I see that you too would like to cry,
but you kiss me.
My hands are shaking, you do not want to let go, never.

„No goodbye in Love can ever be forever, my sweetest“, you whisper in my ear and I respond: „Yes, even if there was no place in this world for us, there is still one, somewhere, for our love „.

The train picks up speed and I wave, will painfully suffer, until you are back with me, someday. With a smile on my face, I approach the way home, to the home that is ours, knowing that it is the love that feeds us though.

Your turn

Strategically clever or just a gut feeling?
What does your next move look like? Is your effort may be too high or is it, not big enough?

Surrounded by enemies. The way out is almost impossible.
An easy game. The game of others. You had
no desire to play from the beginning.

The sweat runs down your forehead. Your poker face,
much more like an open book in the game-plan of your opponents.
A risk that cannot be avoided. The biggest risk is you.

Your throat so dry, your heart beating wildly.
Is the game worth this pain?
After all, it’s just a game. Right?

You assume this turn could be your last.
After it’s done, you look at the faces of
your enemies. These masks that tell you nothing.

The game continues. How are you doing?
Are you a true winner or the loser of the day?
Will they say: „he never could lose well“,
once your life is ruined?

You swear to never play again.
No longer to bet your life,
You promise yourself to banish risks forever.

No risk, no fun.
You have the choice, you can play or
not. But if you do, play your game yourself,
be the master of your turns,
be the maker of your own game.
You better not let it happen to be the one
that gets played, instead of being a player.

It’s your turn. Move!

My choice?

Only you, my charm, my all.
„You’re the one I’ve chosen,“ I say softly.
My free decision, all that I want.

This Love does not only seem infinite,
it extends every day,
through our gloomy valley,
which we, for right now, call our life.

I knew it would be hard,
saw it, the stony path ahead.
The monsters, they lurk, hate,
each one of our successes.
Malicious grins, about any setback,
that hits us.

Moments of farewell forever
burned in my memory.
tattooed on my heart,
cut into my skin, with a rusty blade.
Never was I happier,
never, no hour in my
Life, sadder than right at this moment.

Love leaves us no choice.
It breaks over us like a fire.
Since that day we have been burning.
You and me.
Love makes the choice we believed we had.
And when the flames strike high.
There is no choice at all.