At Sissi's, Munich 1964

At "Sissi's", Munich 1964

Faded design for a stain glass window, Austin, TX., 1980

Faded design for a stain glass window, Austin, TX., 1980

No, that's not MM, Rome, 1965

"No, that's not MM", Rome, 1965

Dressing-room at Palazzo Durini, Milano 1966

Dressing-room at Palazzo Durini, Milano 1966

With painter and sculptor Bounar Hassan in Essaouira, Marocco, 1973

With painter and sculptor Bounar Hassan in Essaouira, Marocco, 1973

Caravan of Dreams Desert Dome, Fort Worth , TX., 1984

Caravan of Dreams Desert Dome, Fort Worth , TX., 1984

Poetry reading, Caravan of Dreams, 1983

Poetry reading, Caravan of Dreams, 1983

Just Joey and me, Manorkill, 1975

"Just Joey and me", Manorkill, 1975

The poet at Dr. Roy Walford's Studio in L.A.1977

The poet at Dr. Roy Walford's Studio in L.A.1977

Rehearsal in Cinecitta

Rehearsal in Cinecitta

L.A., 1978

L.A., 1978

Ritual for Jimmy Anderson R.I.P.

Ritual for Jimmy Anderson R.I.P.

Children are still the best audience. Story-telling time, Vienna 1992

Children are still the best audience. Story-telling time, Vienna 1992

The creature's monologue at the fugitives assylum in Vienna, 1993

The creature's monologue at the fugitives assylum in Vienna, 1993

Performance in remembrance of the victims of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, 2006 at the Friedenspagode in Vienna

Performance in remembrance of the victims of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, 2006 at the Friedenspagode in Vienna

At Porgy & Bess, with the Reform Art Orchestra, Vienna 2010

At "Porgy & Bess", with the "Reform Art Orchestra", Vienna 2010

Theater für Millionen Wien, 1993

"Theater für Millionen" Wien, 1993

55 Schritte durch Europa, Subway-Performance des RAU, hier im Bild mit Sainkho Namtchylak

"55 Schritte durch Europa" Subway-Performance des RAU, hier im Bild mit Sainkho Namtchylak

more photos...

Published Poetry:

Songs:

  • Boss Books, N.Y., 1968
  • OZ, London, 1968
  • International Times, London, 1968
  • Evergreen Review / 78, March 1970
  • Anthology of Woodstock Poets (School of Oral Poetry), 1977
  • At the Clearing of the Darkness, Handshake Editions, Paris, 1983

and Song/Poem-of-the-month




At the Clearing of the Darkness


Children of this world keep your heads up high,
if you've got courage to live you won't need courage to die.
I know it's confusing to see your ways through
the games the merchants of power have set up for you,
but stay out of the rubbish of this or that trend,
shake off the illusions, keep your own lives in hand.


Arguing past wrongs will only sucker us to doomsday,
so let's look for what we have in common, embarking on a new way,
celebrating our strength and not dwelling on our weakness,
we're heading for our meeting-place at the clearing of the darkness.


From food gathering times up to some people's luxury age,
we could watch tyranny, intolerance and gluttony rage,
and we might have learned by doing, just what not to do,
but what's right for somebody else may still be all wrong for you.
The bigger the light, the larger a shadow it throws,
so let's weigh our choices carefully, when our confidence grows.


Giants of the new age, humble be thy walk,
thy hearts be clear of mischief, and may you listen while you talk.
Our perplexities no longer shall keep us from the truthfulness,
which will bring us to our meeting-place at the clearing of the darkness.


We're touching our ways out of the dusks of the past,
to catch all the glimpses of hope, we can grasp,
until the sky, like a mirror breaks the truth to our eyes
and an inner voice wakens, in goodness it tries
to give us a song, which could make what we see,
the beautiful world, that you'd like it to be.


But the greatest vision that a seer ever hopes to see,
is to behold of everything just as it is in reality,
and if you are a seer, than I thank you for your kindness,
to've helped us find our meeting-place at the clearing of the darkness.




THE PRINCE OF DARKNESS


I'll give you all you ever wished for,
I know you think that this will set you free,
just don't believe it'll be so easy,
freedom means responsibility.


200 000 years ago
on a nearby sea of glass,
I've declared my independence
From the universal upper class.


At first there was no one there to stop me,
I made decisions all alone,
and so did all of my darling servants,
we finally were on our own.


But soon it seemed as if I'd lost my purpose,
so to pretend not to have lost face,
I defended us by means of lies and slander,
and this is how you fall from grace.


I gladly gave you all my powers,
my spite has made you to its toy,
and after Eve gave birth to Abel,
I made sure that she got that other boy.


I've infiltrated all your temples,
your tyrants are my progeny,
you'd never even see a murder in your movies
had it not been all for me.


I've helped you make authoritarian doctrines
to scare the crowds away from good,
persecution is my plaything
and vengeance is my favorite food.


They call me the Prince of Darkness
because I turned you loose from your beloved god,
now I'm so bored with your confusion,
while I have to watch you fall apart.


Yes, I've invented all the evil,
and did it just because I could,
and now you are struggling with my shadow,
and I feel so rotten when you are good.




Love's Raindrops in the Mind


Two-hundred thousand years of learning in one talking fingertip
that curves the air to let all space become a floating gown.
A mind that knows the cries of butterflies
unravels a god's traffic-jam in the heads of the howling,
because even the moon will have no part of it.


Who flails this space with scythes of protest
and rips the delicate threads you spun and strung from one ear to another?
Who rides the wind,
or lets the muscles sweetly sing, like gentle strings,
to drop their only weight on us -
the weight of love.


Who has the guts to rise and speak with beauty,
while we have lots of fire, but no real flame,
hears shadows talk inside a head of guilt and shame,
but does not shy to face the image
on the surface of the calm blue lake within the heart,
keeps lighting up inside
until the whole lake glows transparently with love,
and we can see it's bottom.
There's a dove!


Fly broken arrow,
love's rains will mend your stem and feathers,
and just as the rolling thunder's storms can crumble prison walls,
so can the people's hearts and minds when they are joined in purpose.
For love's body fills with freedom as it's being loved
and speaks its strength as it returns your touch.


It's never too late, to stop the next bomb
From putting an end to the raindrop.




Gandhi 1984


I've tried to find my way out,
instead I found my way in.
How many times did I hit and miss,
and how many times did I rush.


Like a bear in the forest,
I wanted to stick my paws into the tree,
to gather all the honey in there.
Honey, I thought, was good for me.


But the greed went away and the future stood aside,
as the mouths of the children opened wide:
"If God wanted to appear to the starving people,
'Shehe' wouldn't dare to come in any other form than food!"



Echnaton
(Courtesy Handshake Editions, Paris 1983)




The M in Menglish
is the My Ku I must do
instead of Haiku.


No sense in babbling,
leaving endless sea behind,
fishermen bring fish.


Many and wondrous
are the gifts that love can bring,
but wisdom gives love.


Darkness dulls the mind.
The light of intelligence
needs to be focussed.


Nostalgia is not
what it really used to be.
The past changes now.


You are so fluid,
what a gas how solidly
radiant you are.


Become awareness,
thinking causes destiny,
knowing creates us.


Feeling no hurry,
desire awakens true
regeneration.


Looking back thinking
is looking forward knowing
to better look out.


Hidden desires
rising like acid rain clouds
dropping Bush on us.


Light shining brighter
truth is more than just facts
living forever


Greys and browns
turning to gold in the sun
when eyes are open


The birds don't sing now
being called to safer grounds
humans don't notice


Winter settles us.
Our thoughts and feelings reflect
pure light on snow.


Peace spreads in our hearts
respecting all insurgents
pleading in despair.




WE RECOGNIZE EACH OTHER ONE MORE TIME


We recognize each other one more time,
while we patiently endure the kind of suffering,
that allows us to forget
and which we enjoy,
because its pattern is so easy to accept.

Us slaves, who do not wish to say outloud
that we would like to be the masters,
us masters, who do not think that we are slaves
because we rule,
us ambiguous wise men, who do not know
that our privileges turned against us,
us sleepers, who still don't know what dreams are all about,
us lovers, who are afraid to open all the shrines in our bodies
and therefore sacrifice the force of life
to our petty comforts, never really satisfying,
and then us workers, who like to see the fruits of our labor
feed all of us and all the children,
while we forget that the machine we built with our own hands
runs them forever over,
as soldiers we are ready to defend what's openly corrupt
and forces everyone to yield to its own arbitrary standards,
exploiting our true needs with false promises of happiness,
but life itself, the highest thing of all milleniums, we still kill off
to then drink on victoriously,
and we spend billions of our dangerous substitute for real value
on looking for the cure of cancer everywhere but where it really is.

Billions gained from painful, often cancerous and injurious labor,
wasted only to divert us from the fact
that cancer stems from our own thoughts, our ignorance and its organization.

We recognize each other one more time,
while we patiently endure the kind of fun,
that allows us to forget
and which we enjoy,
because its pattern is so easy to accept.

Our stars who for our own money seduce us to pollute our world
frighteningly more each year,
lies which we call love,
fetishes which force others yet to fight or starve,
mass killings on behalf of master fraud,
fatigue -
until one day we kindly greet a thief in our mirror,
who steals the birthright of the person,
who each of us once dreamed to have a reason to become.

And so we go on living in the lie
about what cannot happen where or why.

We even hear the screams,
oh, how I wish we all could feel them!


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Song/Poem of the month


Hans Echnaton Schano is neither a singer nor a musician. He is just a poet who likes to write songs. He never knew how to write a single note of music on paper or carry a tune properly. So he took the only remaining option. Crude as they might sound, he created simple tunes to his lyrics on the guitar and … sings them himself, to convey their own special feeling. If you like a song of his, just drop him a note. He’ll appreciate it and get back to you.



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song: the one you've always known song: the one you've always known



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