Klick auf die Bilder, und warte

Durch den Kosmos, seit geraumer Zeit.

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Monolog über Religion

Gott ist nach allen Regeln der Kunst suspendiert.
Kunst will hier heissen die Methoden des qualitativen Urteils, nach den Methoden der Aufklärungs Tradition.
Neben der Wahrscheinlichkeit und den Lehren der Erfahrung (Empirie) kann niemand "Gott" verfizieren, ganz zu Schweigen von der Verweigerung der Kirchen "Gott" zu falsifizieren.
Seit ca. 2000 Jahren wollen uns die Vertreter der Kirchen etwas verkaufen, was noch keine Sau je gesehen hat.
Behauptologen aller Orten ohne jeglichen Beweis.
"Und Gott schuf den Menschen nach seinem Angesicht!", wenn man den Satz umkehrt wird ein Schuh daraus.
Religion ist unstillbare Wunschvorstellung von spirituellen Hungerleidern an den Himmel projeziert.
Von machtgeilen Institutionen ganz und gar zu irdischen Zwecken missbraucht.

Um was dreht sich eigentlich der Religionsdisput mit den zwei anderen monotheistischen Behauptologien, wenn der Gegenstand
vollkommen abhanden gekommen ist?

"Aber fürchtet Euch nicht!", denn da am Anfang immer Erziehung ist (geografisch differenziert) bleibt der fundamentalistische Drill die Mutter aller Angst der Postmoderne.
Die wahren Gründe der Zwistigkeiten und Unterschiede bleiben so verborgen. Kapitalistische Akkumulation hat Gesichter und braucht die Dummheit der Massen.

LOGO

L.Cohen Winter Lady

Winter Lady
Trav'ling lady, stay awhile
until the night is over.
I'm just a station on your way,
I know I'm not your lover.
Well I lived with a child of snow
when I was a soldier,
and I fought every man for her
until the nights grew colder.
She used to wear her hair like you
except when she was sleeping,
and then she'd weave it on a loom
of smoke and gold and breathing.
And why are you so quiet now
standing there in the doorway?
You chose your journey long before
you came upon this highway.
Trav'ling lady stay awhile
until the night is over.
I'm just a station on your way,
I know I'm not your lover.

Homemade

/Users/spookydee/Desktop/MJ11881_Harmonica.mp3

L. Cohen Suzanne

Suzanne
Suzanne takes you down to her place near the river
You can hear the boats go by
You can spend the night beside her
And you know that she's half crazy
But that's why you want to be there
And she feeds you tea and oranges
That come all the way from China
And just when you mean to tell her
That you have no love to give her
Then she gets you on her wavelength
And she lets the river answer
That you've always been her lover
And you want to travel with her
And you want to travel blind
And you know that she will trust you
For you've touched her perfect body with your mind.
And Jesus was a sailor
When he walked upon the water
And he spent a long time watching
From his lonely wooden tower
And when he knew for certain
Only drowning men could see him
He said "All men will be sailors then
Until the sea shall free them"
But he himself was broken
Long before the sky would open
Forsaken, almost human
He sank beneath your wisdom like a stone
And you want to travel with him
And you want to travel blind
And you think maybe you'll trust him
For he's touched your perfect body with his mind.
Now Suzanne takes your hand
And she leads you to the river
She is wearing rags and feathers
From Salvation Army counters

One Of Us Cannot Be Wrong
I lit a thin green candle, to make you jealous of me.
But the room just filled up with mosquitoes,
they heard that my body was free.
Then I took the dust of a long sleepless night
and I put it in your little shoe.
And then I confess that I tortured the dress
that you wore for the world to look through.
I showed my heart to the doctor: he said I just have to quit.
Then he wrote himself a prescription,
and your name was mentioned in it!
Then he locked himself in a library shelf
with the details of our honeymoon,
and I hear from the nurse that he's gotten much worse
and his practice is all in a ruin.
I heard of a saint who had loved you,
so I studied all night in his school.
He taught that the duty of lovers
is to tarnish the golden rule.
And just when I was sure that his teachings were pure
he drowned himself in the pool.
His body is gone but back here on the lawn
his spirit continues to drool.
An Eskimo showed me a movie
he'd recently taken of you:
the poor man could hardly stop shivering,
his lips and his fingers were blue.
I suppose that he froze when the wind took your clothes
and I guess he just never got warm.
But you stand there so nice, in your blizzard of ice,
oh please let me come into the storm.

Peter Gabriel mercy streets

looking down on empty streets, all she can see
are the dreams all made solid
are the dreams all made real
all of the buildings, all of those cars
were once just a dream
in somebody's head
she pictures the broken glass, she pictures the
steam
she pictures a soul
with no leak at the seam
lets take the boat out
wait until darkness
let's take the boat out
wait until darkness comes
nowhere in the corridors of pale green and grey
nowhere in the suburbs
in the cold light of day
there in the midst of it so alive and alone
words support like bone
dreaming of mercy st.
wear your inside out
dreaming of mercy
in your daddy('s arms again
dreaming of mercy st.
'swear they moved that sign
dreaming of mercy
in your daddy's arms
pulling out the papers from the drawers that
slide smooth
tugging at the darkness, word upon word
confessing all the secret things in the warm
velvet box
to the priest-he's the doctor
he can handle the shocks
dreaming of the tenderness-the tremble in the
hips
of kissing Mary's lips
dreaming of mercy st.
wear your insides out
dreaming of mercy
in your daddy's arms again

Goethe Faust

FAUST:
Verlassen hab ich Feld und Auen,
Die eine tiefe Nacht bedeckt,
Mit ahnungsvollem, heil'gem Grauen
In uns die beßre Seele weckt.
Entschlafen sind nun wilde Triebe
Mit jedem ungestümen Tun;
Es reget sich die Menschenliebe,
Die Liebe Gottes regt sich nun. Sei ruhig, Pudel! renne nicht hin und wider!
An der Schwelle was schnoperst du hier?
Lege dich hinter den Ofen nieder,
Mein bestes Kissen geb ich dir.
Wie du draußen auf dem bergigen Wege
Durch Rennen und Springen ergetzt uns hast,
So nimm nun auch von mir die Pflege,
Als ein willkommner stiller Gast. Ach wenn in unsrer engen Zelle
Die Lampe freundlich wieder brennt,
Dann wird's in unserm Busen helle,
Im Herzen, das sich selber kennt.
Vernunft fängt wieder an zu sprechen,
Und Hoffnung wieder an zu blühn,
Man sehnt sich nach des Lebens Bächen,
Ach! nach des Lebens Quelle hin. Knurre nicht, Pudel! Zu den heiligen Tönen,
Die jetzt meine ganze Seel umfassen,
Will der tierische Laut nicht passen.
Wir sind gewohnt, daß die Menschen verhöhnen,
Was sie nicht verstehn,
Daß sie vor dem Guten und Schönen,
Das ihnen oft beschwerlich ist, murren;
Will es der Hund, wie sie, beknurren?

Schlendern durch Marburg2

Schlendern durch Marburg