POEMS & WRITINGS

Skinny-Floppy Song

No for Nordic grey-symmetry
No for metal-taste cutlery
No for spangled male-thong
No for kissing split-tongue
No for cheap merlot wines...

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Closedcircuit

On a clear morning...

As the daylight breaks through the wrinkly pleats and dense textures of the sun-faded black curtains and the sharp rays shine on the inside surface of the dirty dish I had accidentally left on the table in the evening before...

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Eumeratio Bitchy

Fuckin' for money
Fucking to taste honey
Fuckin' in 'Manie'
Fucking a bunny
Fuck for alimony...

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An impulse

Is a squirt-gun left in your pocket...never goes off, just spurts out into your eye-balls and pretends

Is an interrupted punch into the vacuum of space, a hulking wobble which never hits targets...

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On sounds of isolation and other disturbances...

A sonic-boom carpet!... that is the name of the cone-shaped double shockwaves that form in the air when supersonic air jets buzz off above your head... on the first vacation day of summer ...

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Present

The channels of good old sense has been clogged up by mind-dust...

so as my clairvoyance. I have been waiting for damnation for awhile ...

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Intro

You are not able to let this go... if you have always been walking on a slippery slope. Chances like GREASY FISH SKIN are shining then splashing into the floor... you are trying to catch them…but nope... they have left you standing with empty hands, dizziness in your head, all alone in the ROARING FLOOD...

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Leftovers

Confessing your ultimate words with a neck between the edges of sharp ambitious clamps...your knees in the dust scraped of spiky stones and piercing human plastic waste from the planet...

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Enough

you get up one day...

and the recognition hits you,

like blinding phosphenetic light-strikes in the eyeball

when dabbing squeezing your forehead in multiple agony

life can't strip off more skin from you...

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Et lux in tenebris lucet

During a split frozen second,

The latent fear clashes with sudden premonition

On a busy highway section

Emerging from charcoal black dark,
the beast leaps across the bars
her hoofs are landing on the road to death-wards...

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Brocard points

You told me that this feeling I have been in for years now...is called solitude, but I must say that..this is not true...this is not fucking solitude...this is a CROWDED ISOLATION...

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The game we play

Life is an incomprehensible psychological test, an ambiguous trial. The inventor and the executor of this experiment are undisclosed. The aim...seems pointless, the participants are unidentified. The increments... could be precarious...

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Psalm 23

Urge is my Shepherd and only provider
She drags my body through washed out river beds
She throws me into wild steamy water
Shocks my soul, turns up my head...

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Ode for summer

April, end of the winter HYPOTHERMIA.

I am going to forget soon the unbearable squeeze of puffa' jackets, plastic foils and eiderdowns I was being wrapped up for months...

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CUR(e)

You would expect something clean and white but I WANT to shit the BLACK and the red...OUT!

Forming balls from that poop then peg AT HUMANITY!

Or smearing that black reddish DIRT ON A BLANK T-SHIRT then sell the tie-dye fabric...that would be really original and artsy!...

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I took the picture, but l lost the feeling

Spitting back the sunflower seeds to the glass bowl... drinking wine and preaching water...my life is a DOUBLE PARADOX.

I am wandering but could not see the incessant meditative beauty, the soothing effect of endless diverse patterns of the landscapes...my harmony with nature is incidental and transient...

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Origins

I am a few handfuls of twisted DNA slammed to the ground by blunt reality. Do you see those deep fissures in the concrete?

A macro relief map, an alternation of cracks and smooth surfaces, like connective tissues from a pure histological CUT under the microscope...

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Carnal desires

I am taking it back...like retracting the gliding saliva down on my palate reaching the edge of my lips under the blazing polyester mask I had been imprisoned daily...

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