Christoph Schumacher

Some Days

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Sat, 11 Jun 2016 13:46:00 +0000

Some days are

windows down cold beer in a cooler favorite songs on repeat all people invited bring your roommate bring your booze hell here have my pizza where do we wanna go next

days

Some days are

blankets drawn up shades never opened pillows scattered rewatch Happy Endings wait for the medication to work

days

and

Some days are

can't be bothered to flip a coin

days

Resist!

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Fri, 10 Jun 2016 13:21:00 +0000

flags droop
leaflets tossed aside
glued to the pavement
by the rain

scattered protesters
wrapped in scarves
reconsider futility
at a young age

30 (After Emily)

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Sat, 29 Mar 2014 11:44:00 +0000

To make a party it takes a friend and a beer, --
One friend, and one beer, and reverie,
The reverie alone will do
If friends are few.

Monmouth

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Fri, 14 Jun 2013 15:23:00 +0000

Bought a Billy Joel album today
from a street vendor
just for my nostalgia

Because today felt
like a summer of my childhood

Played catch, sweat
and my ear hurts

Love to fall asleep
on the backseat of
my parent's rental

Sand drying between
my toe
on the long drive home

Smell the leather of my glove
bend my cap 'til it's just right

Let the smell of the asphalt and
the ac mix

Learn all the words
to that Smash Mouth song

Giggle about the drug
disclaimers on the radio

Stumble into the motel
just in time
for the last inning

Fall asleep on the itchy comforter
and wake up underneath
the crisp white sheets

A Poem About Nothing

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Sun, 09 Jun 2013 16:14:00 +0000

Life should be equal parts

desk, barstool, and bed.

Me, I’m just cowering under-

neath the desk,

too afraid to check for demons.

visualization should

help

but the venn diagramm

of what is good

for me

and

what I can stand

turned into two poles

dragging in opposite directions

my structure has so

many headings

and subheadings

and references
and bulletpoints

it’s static again

chaos

white noise

as my pen leaves scars on

the empty page

I run out of letters

to combine

#MMwird5

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Sun, 23 Sep 2012 08:52:00 +0000

I had a great time at yesterday's 5 Year Mädchenmannschaft Birthday Party. It was the first time I took the stage with my texts without the band. The other two spoken word performers during my session Anne Prinsregentenheim and Jayrome C. Robinet were amazing and it was a great honor to share the stage with them. Throughout the day I met wonderful people and also learned a lot.

The 'setlist' of my texts so to speak was as follows:

Commune
Crisis at Starbucks
One Bench
A Moment
You and Him
Too.
Kids
Asti in the Train
Dilemma

Update: It was great meeting so many people at the party and I for the most part had a good time, but not everything was great: A panel on activism and internet, the penultimate part of the program, turned into a discussion of different criticisms of the Slutwalk Berlin. When confronted with the (absolutely correct!) criticism especially re: the reproduction of racist sentiments and the lack of inclusion of PoC, the representatives of the Slutwalk organisation team - both on the podium and in the audience - reacted in a manner that only confirmed the criticism. @accalmie wrote a better text on the incident and the problems of Slutwalk than I ever could, so I highly recommend you all go read it now: You Walk Alone.

Belgian Beers.

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Sat, 18 Aug 2012 15:46:00 +0000

"What a pity
you have a boyfriend."
he moaned
between sips.

His friend just shrugged
and lit himself another cigarette.

"You'd love him."

Welcome!

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Tue, 29 May 2012 12:17:00 +0000

I took the step and moved from Clarity + Chaos, my old home, to this site to publish my experiments in poetry.
Since my band Union Hills finally called it quits on Saturday and I now want to embark on adventures on my own, writing and - some time in the not so far future, hopefully - producing music to my texts, I decided to change this situation by - for the first time ever - publishing under my 'real name.' I know! Just like a real author! Exciting!
You can still find the old blog at clarityandchaos.blogspot.com - I'll start publishing longer, original texts on feminism, pop culture and politics there. My tumblr is also still alive and kicking.

Crisis at Starbucks

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Sun, 15 Apr 2012 14:09:00 +0000

Hand in hand they
lost each other
between sips of foam
and swirls of caramel.

When they met, they
had to choose between
food and Foucault.

They'd both been
unhappy in happy relationships and
happy in unhappy relationships.

They joined forces,
became allies.
Countless days
and even more nights,
afternoon walks and
midnight fights.
Distributed clothes and utensils
in their cabins
until they found a home.

A home.

But between quiche forms and
high thread count bed sheets
they stopped talking.
Osmosis replaced communication.

So they went where
modern campaigns started.
To end it. To talk.

They took a final sip,
licked foam
off their lips,
opened their mouths
and -

"I'm claiming the right to be unhappy."

They smiled. And it all came back.

One Bench.

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Thu, 29 Mar 2012 12:11:00 +0000

One old couple
holding hands
on the park bench where
you kissed me for the first time
- carefully -
not spilling a drop
of the coffee I bought.

Chinese hipsters pass by
the old couple
sneers together
like they've done
for years
and will for
one more.

Too.

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Thu, 29 Mar 2012 12:03:00 +0000

The
too slow walk of the
too young man -

too alone with his
too long beard framing his
too old face, his
too battered coat and
too worn out shoes, pulling a
too small cart
too full with
too many bags with
too few bottles -

reminds me that I -

too

- could be that man.

Just Like This.

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Sat, 11 Feb 2012 19:10:00 +0000

On a night
just like this
In a place
just like this
Nothing special
happened
And it was just
fine.

The Man on the Corner

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Thu, 02 Feb 2012 16:27:00 +0000

"The wind is the worst"
he nodded
barely holding on.

"but I'm used to the cold."
Snot freezes in his beard.

No one buys newspapers anymore.

Not For You

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Fri, 16 Dec 2011 17:26:00 +0000

This song is not for you.
This beat is not for you.
This beer is not for you.
This laugh is not for you.
This dance is not for you.
This drink is not for you.
This street is not for you.
This house is not for you.
This kitchen is not for you.
These friends are not for you.
This room is not for you.
This bed is not for you.
This body is not for you.
- waking up your smile meets hers and you know:
This night was all about you.

Swirl

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Sun, 27 Nov 2011 16:12:00 +0000

Out of a
swirl of voices
near and far,
abstract and crystal clear,
of joy, anger and
futility
a vague image develops:
Your mind.

ICE

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Fri, 07 Oct 2011 17:51:00 +0000

tracks tracks tracks
tree!
tracks tracks tracks
tree!
tracks tracks tracks
tree!

suits racing
along tracks

work work work
free!
work work work
free!
work work work
free!

dig trenches

through markets

buy buy buy

see!

buy buy buy

see!

buy buy buy

see!

like a deer

in headlights

Heaps of Glass

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Wed, 05 Oct 2011 15:11:00 +0000

Late September
wasps
parading around
the remnants of
summer's eve

Heaps and heaps
of glass
red wine
trickling down into
autumn day

D.

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Fri, 30 Sep 2011 14:55:00 +0000

"C'mere, baby,
let me tell you how it is"
he said,
words spilling from
his mouth
like fishnets;
his lap a
landscape of regret,
reeking of a
stale, undead age.

Bad Influence

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Sat, 24 Sep 2011 11:01:00 +0000

Every time I start to
think
I feel like I need a
drink
Maybe I should stop to read
Bukowski.

Dare

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Fri, 23 Sep 2011 11:05:00 +0000

Ash fell
on the
D.A.R.E. sticker
on his
desk.

"Those were the days."
he thought
and coughed.

Troy.

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Thu, 22 Sep 2011 10:24:00 +0000

Once
you stuffed them
into ships and huts
Reaping the
fruits of their labor
Denying them humanity.

Now
you stuff them
into blocks and jails
Reaping the
fruits of their labor
Denying them clemency.

A Dream.

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Wed, 21 Sep 2011 12:40:00 +0000

Once I dreamt
of Jonathan Franzen.
We shared a sweater
and a cigarette.
Before I asked him
how to write
I finished my drink
and woke up.

Growing Up.

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Wed, 21 Sep 2011 12:30:00 +0000

I was a father once
had silver-gray hair

then

I became a child
and finally knew
everything I would ever need.

Breaking Beds

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Wed, 21 Sep 2011 12:05:00 +0000

we wrecked a
bed
in youthful
wrecklessness

from the backseat
of our fathers’ car
to the back of the
bus

ten minutes
to downtown
was enough

other kids’ stupor
(turning into an
adults stigma)
never caught on
to us

your parents’ basement
a practice field
tests without results

we painted our story
with all the colors
we could
find

Our world held
together
by three words
and a
hair slide

We joined in
fearless talk of a
non-combatant
future

Dilemma.

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Mon, 12 Sep 2011 13:54:00 +0000

I want to see people
and I want to see lights
and I want to stay in.

The pleasure, the privilege
in a room
keeping me safe.

I want to experience
but I
can't stand experiencing

the hideousness that
lurks around every
corner

So I am
cornered in the
four corners.

All that is left
to see
is on a screen.
The light that never goes out.