A Hen That Couldn't Jump

(a true story that happened to me during my stay in Scotland)

She's always used to be pecked,
Which caused her to become wrecked.
She was different, so to speak,
She didn't care about any other chick,
Nor did the almighty cockerel she obey,
Whom she considered to be a bit gay.
Once upon an autumn lunchtime,
Clucking to herself in a strange rhyme,
She turned her little head at me,
And whispered in a high pitched squeak,
That if only it was to her to control her fate,
There would be no garden gate,
An obstacle she couldn't remove,
Oh, how many things she wanted to improve!
She'd much rather be a subterranean hen,
Living in a cosy underground den,
Lying on her back,
Waiting for a snack,
To jump into her tiny beak,
Becoming a bubble and squeak.
But then came Alice, upset by the hen's weep,
Boy, the girl was moved by the tears deep,
And with her heart soft as a she-mouse's belly,
Opened the gate for the miserable Machiavelli.
The hen just clucked,
In her feathers ducked,
And jumped onto the wall,
Like a cricket ball.
Duh, she's independent, you know,
And doesn't need no help at all.
And that is the end of the story
Of a hen that couldn't jump.

Rapture

three stars
swinging at the eardrums
just to touch your lips
in the eye of a storm
polluted by fake accent
of the innocence brought
by a tidal wave of afterthoughts
of the before before
in such a rain
that makes a man's nostrils thrill
when the ringing in the ear
meant almost nothing
as I ware neither a thyme nor a rose
to you

Stating Poetry

poetry is the letters
into words combined on paper
words into sentences gathered
in mutual congruence
not that much unanimous
the paper lies
face does not

poetry is affinity
of a word to a thought
consciously imposed from above
regardless of the logic
of the world
to have eyes wide open
make the ends meet

poetry is a sound
from the mind to an ear
into a silent room extracted
joining the unagreeable thoughts
loosing a logical sense
boredom kills emotions

so poetry is an uncombed thought
tantologically not obvious
dressed up in elliptical thought
against the physics transitory like gas
in defiance of chemistry adored by itself

patchy, 18, I, love, him

He smiles at me
So bright today
I want to taste his precious lips
Just one more time
I want to bite them so that he screams
I want him to want me
As much as I want him
I want
Though I know

I'm afraid of tomorow
Don't get disappointed he says
I don't know me that well
To promise you a thing
When I'm alone
I revoke his words
And I feel that

I love him
When he's near
I love to love him fast
I love to watch him burn

I want to scream the world
That it's so kind to me
Though I know what pain is
So there I am
Forgetting that
What is sweet ends so fast

But Not There

look here
and there just once
protect your back
you will lose time
stand beside and lay flowers
don't huddle inside
and speak aside
gather yourself from left
sit wherever you want
but not there

here and there
ahead and in doors
it hurts and stings with the key of words
in silence between think
run under words
do not fear the windowsill birds
be tough as nails
speak wherever you want
but not there

Sex, poetry and rock'n'roll

Writing poems for and about your mistresses, loved ones or lovers is a cheap way to pick a girl up and a trashy gimmicky.
Love poems are full of falsity, idealism and childishness. They sound as if you were forever repeating how much red is a rose. It'd be better to actually buy the flower or a drink for your babe, throwing hollah dollah bills at the bartender. It'd be more verbatim and rewarded, when for a poem all you could get is a smile and an innuendo from your lover that: "Get lost honey! You are not a man, but a sissy!"
The same goes for any holidays, anniversaries, tragedies, birthdays, political and social affairs. A poem about Easter, e.g., or the Japanese earthquake sounds like a bird that got hit in the throat. Cheap rhymes are not better. Fucking is good, but not in the poetry. not word for word.
Wouldn't it be better if, having your own style and abilities, to keep up to your own level and not to get down and reach for those cheap procedures to:

a) get the attention of people who like the low-art,
b) scare off those who search for something more in poetry?

I think it'd be better to be a Jimi Hendrix, to bristle the soul and make your readers ecstatic, bringing something new and magnetic into poetry, than to be like a soft wind with no attention caught, like Rick Astley with his sterile, barren and infertile songs that make you want to vomit.

What a Mess

I return after a hard night
just to leave before dawn
I've been waiting
till you make a move
or just tremble
a little
but you just nothing
not submissively giddinessed
lead up the garden path

I was
on the summer day
day is excessive
in its excessiveness
so I blink
into too long dawning sun
tatooed on the sheet
of your right eye
as well as the left one

what a mess
what a mess
and no intentions
to be nor to drink

Quantization Error

I am stretched on your grave
somewhere out of the world
I want to stalk you
from the crack of dawn
until the bell tolls
when
the reduced number of colours
in both the horizontal and vertical direction
tell me I do not fit
but don't I just know it

Tear on a Warm Tape

my face will never show
what is not real
my eye will never ever keep me cool
special secret hidden inside
in a language I don't understand
passing slowly the redness of my shirt
slipping by mistake into my shoes
in a perfect Spanish scrawl
I could have lied
when you had to go away
and I don't care
if you suck my kiss
this is the place
I could die for you

Birdy

today 

I saw a small bird 

sitting on my window-sill
it was so beautiful

not conscious the surrounding danger
I admired 

it's coloured wings 

and wanted to help

it reminded me 

a better world

took me 

to my dreamland

neverending land 

of happines love and peace
with no bad stuff we 

have here

I've heard a shoot
it was the last time
I saw this bird

at least my stomach is full now

The Train of Perfumes

without breakfast my delusions
just a soft sadness

and I know that we are

with a pressed button

that the picture sound scent

next generation television

in high definition and on demand

in red in green

knocks in my vein

and they can't see us

the train of perfumes pushes and kicks

back to the clocks

Blink

the shadow of your eyes
casts a thin blue line
on the surface of my thoughts
a German wine massages
the half opened palate

a day and an age of the million of my lives
rolled with a professional opinion
the emptinesses howled all full of
scream of the glued together lips

a feather between the chair and the ceiling
and my undercovered consciousness
I burn for you
with the unspoken words
and I am afraid to blink
in fear you may disappear

A Time

a time
when the spotlight dawn
will wrap us tight
passing the day leftovers
from our eyelids

will shower our heads
with stars
soothing us
with its mahogany dream

a time
when beyond a dream flight
will carry us
far above the city's chimneys

will undress us
of the tight fabric of our skins
will seduce us
and still unknown will undercover us

and will cuddle us
will rock us to sleep

Heal the Dead

remember the times
when the two of us
the soul yerba mates
would sat at the porch
sipping tea and complaining
about the unpredictability of
the spots that the raindrops would cover

from the back of my palm
prepare you a scrambled abortion
with a little bit of euthanasia
I raise the eggs
cut the chicken
into small squares

I want to uncover
the mystery of the sunshine
that day by day
is more and more
undercovering your thoughts

Protect the Nest

I am the happy orange eater
I believe the pulp I taste
is nothing but pure flesh
of the lovimps dancing there
inside my head

the blue mailbox few times in a week
rap rap rap
because the children laugh
because the dogs bark
because it is too cold

nothing more brought by the mailman
maybe I only try to hard
to imagine that we vanish
together
to find ourselves again

Medusa's Path

now do you know
how I feel tonight
five senses are not sensible to sense the existence
elite lights whistling in the air
I give blood
I give smell
I give you take
take and grab
endeavour the every drop of me
seconds are purple hazed
minutes are secularized
that is my poison
step aside
feel uncomfortable
watching me give birth
to unreasonable thoughts
I pledge resistance to
the beliefs injected by you
into the dead vein
there can be no more deaths
look into my eyes
into the windows of my soul
I play scales
the scales of dead fish and echoes of dreams
in reborns and resurrections
of my thoughts in the afterthoughts
of you and me
where there can be no you and me
as you are the imitation of me
the false belief in myself
to which I command my spirit

Dig In

in my head
silence
in between my arms
within the days
crazy train to love
I'm a crazy stuntman
the underdog long gone
no more
afraid to wake up
afraid to open the eyes
scared to go to sleep
as tomorrow
I might not wake up
and no longer be afraid
to wake up

It Doesn't Slide

like a lion in the middle of the night
when the moon rises
when the soft breeze
of your words can be felt
on my heart
it slides down my aorta
no
it doesn't slide
it flows gently
like a soft feather

fire kiss tree Frankie

now you know
I'm like a lion in the morning
still searching (so much bubble)
summer daisies
inside a Babylon cookie jar
for a same old story
to ease these pains
within the love and unity
where she lay
under a half way tree
as love is my religion (acoustic)
that keeps on growing
in the mystics of yesterday
in the fire kiss
when the sun comes up
it has to be blossoming and blooming
now you know Frankie
this is a one way train
stuck in between
where the love is

Repeat

like a train
from here to there
leave the melan
leave the choly
gores the heart
magic is tiny compared to it
dance me far from here
when you play I have
a handful of brain waves
in your dreams
leave the melan
leave the choly
repeat

Are You How

don't fade my world my love
slowly you begin to realize
how the Sun sets and rises up up up
softly in the spell of our words
softly you shroud the eyes of my heart
how are you are how
will give you strength
don't fade my world my love
we will meet again soon

Shall We Be Friends?

People are stranger
when you're in danger;
use to act like a Texas ranger -
the dogs in the manger.
They don't realize you are the granger
of your own fate in your own manger.

And when the heat dies down
and you have completely drown,
the soil around you , you clown,
seems to be contaminated all around.
Depopulated streets are run-down,
nothing left, not a sound,

when you endeavour,
when you're frank always and ever,
they always disappoint you, whatsoever,
leaving you with a foot lever
to dig your own fate in a bound sever,
now, who is to be called the clever?

You may keep up with the Joneses, man,
fry your life in a saucepan
and leave nothing but a tin can
for the friends in need. Set your catamaran,
sail the deepest oceans, keep a secret plan,
be the master of your own van.

Choose on your own and decide,
in your nature so much Jekyll and Hyde -
is it better to put friends aside
when worries are gone and you can slide
forget about them when there's no need to confide
and out of the blue disappear in a tide.

Valentines Pseudo-Sonnet

In your kindness don't you even try
to send me a sweet and candy Valentine.
In my place I am doing really fine
and, mind you, don't ask me why.

The cupid is poor and blind,
the brains he incepts by random
and limits the movement freedom;
I'd rather follow my own mind.

Don't try to convince me anyhow
as I am a hater of the pink cupid.
I believe he's just drunk and stupid -
to limited companies he sold himself.

I don't believe the poisoned arrow from a shelf
that strikes a heart on this very day.
I found my own, straight way.

Detime

Counting time, or not, it flies on its own, or it doesn't fly, we can't be sure it flies or not, as time has not been, to be honest,
seen,
we can't touch it,
and what can't be touched doesn't exist,
and the watches and calendars give is only

a faintest hope

for its existence,
the one that flows like blood in the veins, which we can't see, till we get hurt, and we can't be sure the blood is there, till we cut our veins with an intended movement or a chaotic one,

so it occurs that I contradict myself,
as the time

is
but it
isn't there 

one has to cut the reality to see it, then it all will spill out of the pumping organ and will cease to flow as soon as it will detime itself,
and useless will the watches become, whose second hands will keep on ticking, as time
will not be
will not be and will not expire,
cut the reality with a strong, firm movement, movement so fast and fluent, then to paste the cut over with a tape that would say:

"the time has just stopped flowing, count your last hours, if you want to, you can take it into a bucket, who knows, maybe some day you would want to kick it."

Dropped \\

dropped \\
your freedom
off at the pool 
into the \\ arms
of me

softly
caught in \\ butterfly wings
dancing in the wind
the cupid | was drunk
too much 
|brandy| and |beer|

hear me out
here *
==>
and _____

you are now 
mine
in me you exist
breathe me in
implode ^

Give Me the Words

in a likeable manner of speaking
I don't understand
what's the point
of feeding poems with poets
how a poem
a masterpiece full of life in silence
becomes an empty platitude
when shown to poets
give me the words
that tell me nothing
semantics won't do
in this life that we live
I suppose I should find a way
to tell you everything
by saying nothing

My Comment

you are my comment
to which I am subscribed
arriving your
two legs of toes five
two hands of fingers five
eyes of two colour green
with hair of pitch black
medium length
a heart liver and kidneys
to my little blue mailbox

I adore you
all the time the same
my precious comment
that doesn't ever change

Closed in a Half Smile

the evening state gathered in the wind
intensifies the eternity interlaced
in the hair cursed
with craft of the words enclosed
in the silence groping but daydreaming
rubs itself against the borders of comprehension
throughout a till e
a sentence after a paragraph in sounds enclosed
you ask slowly articulating
like a rose in crimson
of the rainy everyday
by a windy spell swollen

the malt from ambrosia squeezed
out of the dream seeds drips
a second after a second
onto your lips that
closed in a half smile
scream the feebleness anointed
in the substitute heaven

The Mornings

it's so cold in the morning
especially at the back
the bloody soul decided to
slip in between
ribs, bloods and spleens

it's so cold in the morning
though they say a new day
should be started in grand style
pitch black coffee and the breakie
words drawled out of the radio

but me, I strongly object
I would stay in bed preferably
out of order I am
fuck the mornings

That Would Put an Exclamation Mark

I hide where the wind
wouldn't unstitch the air with the choked coffee
but your words
would ruffle my head
that would put an exclamation mark
at the end of my sentence

vocal cords
weaned from
such an intensity of thoughts
in the heart muscle

You Corked My Heart Tight

cut off wings
walled my throat
instead of flying
they stamp the left as well as the right leggy
like a little girl devoided of her toys
with one poet
you corked my heart tight
and nothing was able to flow
then the lymph exploded
and there is no more longing
when I can't love
emptiness in my head
and thousands of thoughts within the hair
you confused me
you overthrew me
and put a new face into my appearance
I want no platitudes
clip my wings again
it hurts so sweet
as long as you aren't speechless
and under the clowds disappear

Fish Tank

Without google I am like fish without a bicycle. Say, why a fish would need a bicycle? It's obvious. Fish need no bicycles. They live underwater, have no legs and stuff, they swim. But believe me, I heard them once bubbling in a fish tank that was standing on my friend's desk about the advantages of using bicycles. One of them, a guppy I suppose, was trying to convince the other habitants of the tank, that what they need is to write a petition, yeah, fish writing a petition, with fish pens, on fish pieces of paper in a fish tank, a petition, mind me, to God to send them a bicycle so that they could harness a hamster to it to amuse themselves. The other fish listened carefully, and some of them, like the sucking loach, who is, all in all, glued to the glass of the tank no matter what happens on the other side of it, thought it might be a great idea to have a hamster cycling on a bicycle - than another fish could reproach him for doing nothing for the whole day, but staring at the world outside. A dreamer, mind me, they said to him, stuck in the world of his own, not able to grasp the great ideas of fishsophers that were here behind him and who conjectured about the highest of fish ideas. The loach became so absorbed with the idea of getting a bicycle and harnessing a hamster to it, that he didn't realize all the other fishes were gone. 'What the heck,' he thought, 'where is everybody?' He forgot it was the feeding time, the big two legged creature, their personal slave and, mind me, my friend, gave them food, the best of the best. Only the loach was free and not enslaved by the, poor others, sweet ambrosia that fell onto the surface of water. He ate shit, and he enjoyed it much. And now, as he watched the two legged funny creature that they managed to enslave with the power of their thoughts feeding the others, he realized they need no hamster. They can easily incept an idea into the creature's mind and make IT amuse them on a biciycle. Oh, how cunning he was! He gathered all his thoughts, started to think really really hard to creep into it's mind and... just as he was almost there he... blew up. The others decided to play a nasty joke on him, as they already forgot about the hamster thing and everything returned to it's natural state of swimming, saying 'Hello' to each other and eating. They were surprized of the sudden and unexpected blow of their friend but... 'What was it?' Without google I am like fish without a bicycle. I need it. Yeah.

Muse

fuck me in my ear
your voice is loud and clear
you crawled into my brain
and stole my domain
inspiratoin they call you
I know you are like a fake tattoo
you will aMuse me
for this short moment in time
bring me to my knee
and I beg you for a little bit of crime
the perfect lie caged in a verse
word by word
and bit by bit
I already lose you
the leash has broken
too many words yet unspoken
when you were here
I cried you're gone
now I feel lonesome and so does my ear

sUZANNE, 39, ocean, bedroom, rain

from the seeds you brought me

I husked emptiness

that became my loneliness

I swim in the ocean of my bedroom
and every time I get closer
I go with the tide

of your wishes and desires

covered compeletly

in the seaweed of my loneliness

I swim faster and faster

and I cannot reach the shore

you come down with rain at me

you stop me from believing

that you are the only one

Jigsaw

my cocaine
devour like a drug
constantly more and
your body I want
gorgeous curves

smooth texture
to want more from life
love is a word
for years immutable
morphine for the sick
scattered thoughts

when pining away I can't love

agora

you are paparazzi with a lens in your fingers
agora of sheer events
has swept your storm
you don't farm me like you used to
flick me more and more violently
make love with the whole world
blocked and clamped my body

log me out for an instant while
fall apart on my wall
I want to be offline with you today
have exclusive rights to your status
with my whispers comment your words
click me with your congested finger

As Simple As ABC

love is all you need
and then you can bleed
die in the everlasting agony;
what you thought was hard like mahogany
turns to dust so fast
and hardly ever does last
till death will part
so, let's get back to the start
where it all begun
cause In the long run
I know we will win
we defeated the original sin
so why not conquer the hearts
or, maybe, let's go and play some darts
as love is eternal it burns from the insides
washes the shore with high tides
nowhere to run though the road is wide
it will get you like Jekyll and Hyde
all you need is love
it will punch your heart with a boxing glove
and knock you out, stars will you see
it's as simple as ABC

Not for Me

with books on my head
like with heads
that contemplate
upon souls
but that's not me - the holy one
just pressed with dreams
off my rocker by opening here and there
no, for me, not for me
old coating
old duvets
stinking with your virginity

Good Night Poem

Hear me out!
The night has come,
oh, at least for some,
in the middle of the world.
With the dreams unfurled
I lay my head on a pillow,
count to ten and sit under a willow
with a panflute I tune myself stories
of what most bothers me and worries.
Can you feel the oozing snake
that comes out of my feelings lake?
Sweat comes out of it's mouth,
it bites and burns out of the deep south
and I wish in my aching heart
to fear it when it tears me apart.
I make myself scream but no sound comes out,
as it is beyond any doubt
that I'll die tonight, my sugar cane,
to feel tomorrow the pain again.
the song so clear, begins to fade,
my burning heart calls fire brigade
and I just weep to put out the fire,
but that's not enough, it gets higher and higher,
so I just wait here and play my melody blue,
till you come and give me the clue.
Please, bring some smile in a red pill,
yet, don't come in, leave it on a window sill.
I might get scared and break my own heart -
some call it the falling art.

What If I Wasn't Afraid to Ask

I pick white holes in it
I tread with my chilled to the marrow hands
on the flatlands of your lips
and I couldn’t stop marvelling
at the moves of your shoulders
so close yet so far
muse of my shortened days
the winter will be over some day
and the world will grey become again
as this all I just imagine
in my head it was born
and it won't for real happen
no matter how much will I flex
and torn the world on the left side

...Pretending

down on my knees
above the trees
you will be left behind
your words are blind
you think you've gone so far
in your convertible car
I know the last cut
to make your eyes shut
is the deepest
like your joke - the cheapest
that's the effect
of your future perfect
I will have loved
and pushed and shoved
well I used to stand in a queue
with my own world view
wishing you opened your heart
delighted with my culinary art
but all I got was you turning into god
making me feel a bit odd
like a slave to his master
oh, if only I knew it'd be such a disaster
some said it was a sign
right there it came down from the sky
you've become a cytomegalovirus
and me? I am so desirous
of being loved and to love
but I am just tired of...

Coax Me out of My Love

you asked me
what do I want here?
I just came for my contract 
I said
with the devil herself
why not me
why am I not the one
that you want to be glued to 
for the rest of your days
till death will us part
I am just sitting here
crying lighting  whole day
waiting for a spin of my propeller 
which won't reel 
as I can't get it started on my own
so pay me a visit some time
promise you will
as soon as possible it's urgent
I crave for your words mind and 
I crave for you to touch me and 
kiss my back and stroke my skin and 
tell me how much you love my hair 
my lips my neck my breasts my arse
your eyes
the beautiful eyes I could look into
whole day long and I could die
watching them boy

(for P.)

Exhaled

you are out of my life
like a cigarette smoke
inhaled and tasted
sweet words you threw
out of breath for a short while
almost fainted
so good was your taste
but that was your mistake
which you realized fast
it was not you
who was admired
as you were inside
doing the inside job on my heart
time flew by
you started to taste bitter
I started to choke

and the addiction started to rot my guts
so I exhaled you
it stank like mud
and the flies gathered around their master
I exhaled you
you vanished like the smoke
I know you want me to fight
but I won't play your game any more
no more you in my life
you left a bruise and run
the bruise will heal
and you will be left alone

I Wouldn't Eat the Filthy Motherfucker

we both don't know each other
I suppose you might be my father
when you feed me with white lies
try as much you want, it's nice
but I wouldn't eat the filthy motherfucker
and I don't need no succour
the expansive nature of truth
that doesn't come from the wisdom tooth
culture is the suggestion
but you keep on asking rhetorical questions
it's just something that we do
asking just the same out of the blue
are you good sunshine? how are you?
yeah, yeah, see ya later and screw you
we don't speak honestly just the bullshit
the full of empty calories blah blah blah banana split
I may be blind to look and see
but you don't care about me
your own nose is what you love
your own words returned from my face 
you catch into your massive batting glove
and I could go on and on like this but just in case
I stop to smoke a sig
and watch how you dig

at me every chance you get

I bet

you already mutter under your breath

words louder than the speech of Macbeth

Stuck in the System

I am not a snowflake
am filling my head 
with swagga which 
I never had 
probably god the opinionated demiurg 
behind his desk
left it in the cupboard
while counting my
not yet committed
sins
and I'm really horny right now
probably will stuck myself in the system
god is just a woman
who tends to question me
without giving me reasons
no matter what I do
I go to heaven or hell
probably both if she has
her premenstrual syndrome

Good Love

Question

you know -
you asked me one day
when I was on the cloud nine
when I was lying on my couch
when I was stroking my hair
when I was reading the latest Llosa's book
the one I bought myself on Valentines
the ones you forgot about
the ones you forgot about me
the ones you dumped me down the drain
the ones you kicked through the window
the ones you phoned me
in the middle of the night
when I was drunk-stoned
telling me that you feel the
predilection for cock or pussy
that doesn't count
as long as you can stick
your mojo and feel the cosiness
- what I am thinking about
my dearest
my prettiest
my only one?

yes, I replied
all in tears
crying a waterfall
in my anticipation


you never replied
my ideal
my never here never was

I’ve Got Your Number

I rest now

in my office
on the fifth floor
lay my hands on my knees
watch you bustle about my mind
while sipping Starbucks coffee
why would you sip
a Starbucks coffee
while I've already made
an aromatic coffee by myself
should I drink it alone
the two cups that now stand 
on my coffee table
don't say you forgot
don't pretend to care
and don't you feel sorry
I’ve got your number
and all my boys said
you won't get her numbers
now I am saying nothing

My Little Screwdriver. For Marta F.

Simon Says

Simon says
write a letter
with 100% pure orange juice
do it out of spite
just because
and watch the lovimps
wonder back and forth
through your room
and the orange pulp spatters
splat splat splat
onto the broken walls of your heart
the puddles become orange
while you write a letter
and the lovimps are orange
pretty, orange, or rather grapefruitty
because such a colour exists
it is written in wise books
and I know where the lovimps come from
the pretty scents the sweet pulps
the various colours and flavours


that is bad
don't do that
or you get burnt
Simon says


and now
Simon says
gently clap your hands
into the first pretty face
you see in the street
do it fast
smash it hard
so the Simon says
watch it bend
watch it turn
inside out with a cute
pain expression

this is what
love is all about
now repeat
Simon says

Let's Face the Truth

How do I love is none of your business
and I just don't care
if you love me or hate me,
as long as you
don't get up my nose.
When the love is gone
I sit in my arm chair
and smoke some weed -
unnerves me like a good song
and let me forget about
problems, dilemmas, emotional blackmail.
Love is just a dialogue,
you can't survive on ice cream
and it will never be the same.
Evolve, revolve and turn yourself
inside out and upside down
that is what we are meant to be.
Truly unloved - impossible,
but impeccable
like your impecunious language;
even the haters
love in their lust.
Now all I can do is to
welcome you to
Nobody Cares;
population: 6 billion.

Time Is Money

metafictionally speaking
I've travelled through
all the time zones today
seven dimensions of breath
I think fast as time is money
inhale your exhales
and it appears that
who I thought was me
was not me at all
lost in the thick juice
of your thoughts
that I will never
be able to comprehend
the roar of hearts
reactionary defensiveness
and counter intelligence
mother nature is furious
but out of chaos comes order

Drowning Angel

I used to run
run for my life
clamber up greasy walls
no way I look around
to seek the fear of fast forward
I was chased by
I never knew what
I hear your words blast out
you said I was just a one night stand
do control your feelings
or at least try to
it doesn't make me
want you more
when you slobber all on me
your every empty-headed
glance you shoot my way
terrifies me and makes me wonder
is that me who acts gullible
or you are that rotten

Stupid Rule of Thumb

I was waiting there for a hour
standing like an ivory tower
in the middle of the street
where we were supposed to meet.
All the girls were passing me by;
some of them even said: hi!,
looked at me licking lips with relish-
it gave me a gooseflesh - felt hellish
as I was standing there for an hour,
watching the girls with devour,
waiting for you to come
in a stupid rule of thumb.

You never came.
It's always the same.
I don't care any more
so fuck you and your back door.
I cried a river over you,
I'd rather die of swine flu
than hear more of your shit stew.
So now you say, in days of glory,
that you want me back and you are sorry?
Please, you just want me back
because I've got the latest iMac.
No more hanky panky,
no more calling me Frankie.
While I'm becoming better
you can write me a letter
saying you're my greatest fan.
Go, fry your tits on a frying pan.
Now you'll be crying rivers
covered in cold shivers
at your rotten sperm bank
with a guy named Frank.

new age hero

the dog
ten feet tall
in high heels
a red stripped tail
comes out of an alley
high voltage coming out of it's mouth
filled with nail teeth

cats eloping with mice
run like hell
all the way from dust bins
to the cosy bed of your dreams

the dog
ten breaths from your face
in a slow motion
mov
es
clos
er
and
clos
er
to
your pretty
face

just one bite
one small bite
like a touch
of butterfly wings
a soft revelation
coming out of the dog's
pus oozing jaws
and
your face
is not there

you can now stop worrying
about wrinkles that
a minute ago covered it
you can save money
on cosmetics creams and make-ups
sit at your desk
and take up
inventing conveniences
to help the faceless

focus

got nothing more to say
because have drifted away
pulled in to shore
nothing more to score.

so... why bother
who'd need the words
sentences would rather
unfurl in two thirds
roam in their own pace
whenever they could
spreading destruction and disgrace
making themselves misunderstood
in a manner of speaking
so frenzied and hectic
making apoplectic leaking
from the heart of a storm
you call thoughts swarm
and without thinking
squirt it into a stinking
purulent vein
and do it all over again

break me

I roam the streets
walk on by
sneak like a cat
with swollen balls
scummed all over
I want you to break me
I roam the pavements
clubs and pubs
gore them with my gaze
I want you to take me up
I am a gung-ho
the orgy within
with my tongue on my knees
looking for a friendly fuck
better be good by fuck frenzy
the final talent for fucking spree
I want you to throw me away

*

*

*

*

***

plagiarism in my head

plagiarism in my head
how I wish I was dead
all the words already spoken
every rhyme before me broken
I'm not a Shakespeare nor the Orwell
and every phrase just rings a bell
I am lost between the lines
my voice doesn't stand out nor it shines
it's as plain and simple as the snow
on this crazy puppet show
what can I do to make it good
tell me what might would or could
make my words outspoken
not soaked with your token?

Been Busting Rhymes in the Shower

Been busting rhymes in the shower
standing under cold water for an hour.
The lust in me was burning
and it was very concerning
that the water evaporated 
and a thick mist was created
while it touched my skin.
Oh, I thought in my sin,
what would happen if I stopped rhyme busting,
in the manner so disgusting,
for a second or two;
would the water turn to glue,
would I be standing there, at the shower
for more than my happy hour?
Standing at the shower thinking
with my mind slowly shrinking,
as the lust decreased dramatically.
I was feeling ecstatically,
and now I'm pissing on myself
as the cold water hits my back.

addiction

grab
my hand.
no need to
be afraid. as long
as I am near, you
can close your eyes and you
can trust me in the unconditional rush
of chemistry into the innocent head of yours.
my dearest, I will protect you from
the clear perception of the facts.
I will guide you and
you belong to me
now and that
is a
fact.

I'd Spoon You

I'd spoon you
in myself
on the
bed
that we would
lie
you covered
with the warm
fluff of my thoughts
with a calm smile
on your soul
fulfilled
in
the blink of an eye
we are so near
wish
wish upon
a rainbow that
there is a day we met
a simple ordinary day
nothing special
no birds
singing
like
London
Orchestra
no people like in
New Year's Eve joy
just the two of us
the perfect
connection
no rush
no
worries
a perfect circle
of me and you spooned
in me on the bed
that we
would
lie

***

night is here
full of fear
all the freaks
will now bubble and squeak
in my ear
message clear
you're not unique
your passion is weak
and you're a queer
heart pierced with a spear
go to sleep
and we will creep
into your mind
make you blind
never again will you find
what you left behind
we will make sure
there'd be no cure
so become inure
as you'll be forever insecure

Autumn Dream

The rain is coming
The streets are empty
It's getting darker
And the street lamps turn off the dusk

Lull before the storm pervades the dark land
The flashes in the sky begin the dead night
Rainy day
Rainy night
Autumn dream
Melted into the darkness

Tear drops flow on the ground
Rustling
Trees and flowers in the wind rhythm
Shake
Autumn dream
Melted into the darkness

***

***

IAU

Inside you hive

Around your heart
Desperate I am
Of love I dream
Right on the inside of us
Every cell of our thoughts

You wrap in powdery snow
Only you I want
Undone I come

by the way

this is
you're so cruel
a poem
more than me
for the deaf
I'm so young
nobody echoes
and beautiful
between the lines
come a little bit closer
no letters lie
just a track in the line
beside the ditch
I'm holdin the noose

I know the sun
is hot
I got my
ears burned
on your
sweet
soft
and horny
with which
you poisoned
the every me
swallow and chew
eat me alive
all of me food
that hasn't gone deaf

I got what was
and I want
to take
what's left
the one you hide
is safe for the deaf
mistake you've made
can be reversed
I saw you coming
so low round my neck
I heard not a thing
you infiltrate and forget
no word will cure
what's lost in me
no verse will save
what's left in me
I would beg
swallow and chew
I would plead
eat me alive
I would shake
between the lines
on a hook
I'm in you
dangling
you're in me
by the way

blocade

Can't write, read nor comprehend
A thing happened that I don't understant
A road block in my head
That makes me see Venetian red
I've got written on my face: enough, fair,
Sweaty hands, greasy hair
You are my drug, a hard drug
The soft drugs constantly bother my jug
You are my drug, a perfect drug
Without you I curl up like a dog
Beaten with a jack plug

It's so easy to believe

It's so easy to believe
That if enough magic you have,
You can put a spell on a man
And turn him into a tree
But what for?
He'll rustle in fact.

It's so easy to believe
That love has a blindfold
On it's blind eyes,
Absolves from all harms.
One I know for sure:
You don't love because.

It's so easy to believe
That the forest's despair has a face.
The crown will fall
From the head swelling with wisdom, but
Is too small for the world.

It's so easy to believe
That will die, in the midst of colours,
The one to redeem
The whole world but not his own;
With rage against violation.

It's so easy to believe
That the better of two evils
Justifies the means,
But the punishment will get you
Before the black will turbid the white.

It's so hard to believe
That from a surface as clean as a whistle
An evil stronger than mankind
Can emerge, or so they say,
To reach the bottom in them.

one of two

one me sleeps like a baby
second me like screams in the middle of the night
one like closed door
second like eyes full of power

one me smells like meadows
blooming orchard white apple flower
second me mouldy sweat
dirt and dust
the crap that sticks to hands

like a daydream
dream or not
my will is heavenly desire
the two sit in me
either wants to be the one
win with heaven
conquer hell
alter ego

honey here and there

I wish to have you
the plush you
moss here and there
would trail like a carpet
fragrant as your nape
soft as your smile

I wish to have you
the satin you
tulle here and there
and silver moon's thread
navy-blue river glitters
everything quivers

I wish to have you
the mint you
honey here and there
golden amber
is the colour of your feet
on my head

and
here I stand
right in the middle
of the same room
I stood for almost 26 years
all doors wide open
and eyes closed
and I must
make up my mind
decide on
opt for
while I choose not to choose
and to deceive myself
that I have a choice

but
all those doors
look the same
and you leave me no choice
but to stand here
right in the middle of the room
with a shotgun pointed right
into
my
head
and you want me to choose
select
pick
right here
right now
in this single moment
or you will shoot me
right in my face

and I imagine how your faces
grin in a mysterious smile
as you see my head
blow all over the room
leaving written on the walls
all the pain and suffering
I have to go through
right now
when you make me
make up my mind
choose
opt for
decide on

you
you
or you

how can I decide
if I love the three of you
at the same time?

a poem about decline

sweetheart
soon instead of
string pants you will have 
mulch and mould on your ass
you feel that the old is going by
has gone by
wax is death
in a small little cute pink bottle
you still try to put on your legs
to look like a queen
a drag queen I would say
stop hurting yourself
you cannot help it
and no matter how much makeup
you will put on the wrinkled face of yours
the wrinkles will be there
and the reek of antiquity
sticks to you like a leech
the new is still not there
there's only you
the four walls
and a poem about decline

I'm awful at drawing

I suppose
I am in love with you
more than you
really like me
Though
I might be wrong
I am not
sure about it
and I wish
I was blind
yes
I should be blind

I think
I am in love with you
more than you
say you like me
as you are on my mind
softly walking it
from ear to ear
leaving gentle thoughts
as you cross my mind

Though I saw you just once
I drew a picture of you
never before
did I take a pencil to draw
and I learned
a thing about myself
it was absolutely gorss
I'm awful at drawing

I can't get to sleep

I can't get to sleep
though my brain's already off
aaaaaaaaa
I swear my thoughts a thousand time
aaaaaaaaa
let me let me
knock on your door set ajar
I can't get to sleep

swallow me love

I close my eyes, but I still see you
noooooooo
I can't stop thinking about you
noooooooo
let me go
let me go
you dreadful dream don't make e blue
spit me out spit me out
you cursed dream don't fuck with me
as something is going to happen

spit me out love

let me let me
knock on your door set ajar
I can't get to sleep