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Contribution of our project manager

Working with prisoners changes perspective. Vivid realism is it for me. I have to deal with it because in such a place pain is even more painful.

I write.

Our world

Beelzebub roams the streets
the moon's light is not enough to capture him.
A girl stands cold at the side of the road,
in her hand she holds only a pinwheel.
A breath is enough' lost the innocent soul',
it's the boy who's already grabbing her throat.

O miracle from Bethlehem, you infinite power,
shining eyes over the crib of the holy night.
Cheeks blush in this grace
Children touched by the light, blameless.
Her laughter pushes brightly against the window panes,
it wants out to share the happiness.

Cold and deserted lies the place
where once buds blossomed, all dead.
Sand from the desert frozen to iron
O God, men born for death.
They talk, don't overhear a glimmer
Philosophy of values lost forever?

The light still shines over the souls,
it will never end, the love from Galilee.
Come hell or high water, who will give up
it's already proven, the word without questions.
Above the horizon still shines, like the sapphire
The girl softly asks, O God, how closer to You?

©Peter Ochsner

Words from our project manager

Working with prisoners brings out a different perspective. It is vivid realism, I've to deal with, as bad is worse at such a place.

I write.

Hope and demise

I close my eyes
do not see the unwise
I shut my ears.
do not hear fears.

Deep blue sparkles the sea,
dolphins alongside, they agree.
Out of the water, into the sun,
sorrows and pains, all long gone.

They splash with great joy,
and do not annoy.
They click enhanced with desire,
to link me to the pearly gate choir

I open my eyes
I see demise
I try just one ear
It makes me fear.

©Peter Ochsner

However, after every session when we walk back to reality, I witness joy at its best. Tomorrow is possible for all of us and again I write


What is it? That thing called love
devotion, or a gift from above.
Single moments of sensual cognition,
Knocking endlessly, seeking admission.

What is it? that moves under the skin,
creates endearment and raving affection therein.
As mankind is unaware of another sensation,
emotions are free since God's creation.

What is it?

That makes days fly by,
gives you those wings to stay high.
Day and night, you know it by heart,
true love will never take you apart.

What is it? That renders magnetic power,
not once, not twice, but by the hour.
Perpetually preserved for the poor and the rich,
for you know, life can be a bitch.

©Peter Ochsner

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