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