Dogs of Love

While the best are too good to care

The rest are too weak.

Stuck here, between the monstrosity of

hope and doom – the alleyway seems bleak

Boy, so much beauty in the world

left to be seen!

And yet, we need more courage now

We need to burn the old down

And create the new. The best are good at this.

The rest suck.

And here i am, mortal, insincere and whole,

Puking out ill-digested emotions

through words.

That’s the only thing i am good at.

Nevertheless,

i am one of the best. I know what i’m doing

and someday the gods will love me for this.

.......

Aurora and her lipgloss – she’s an old maid now

On her virginity, i’m not so sure

I never bothered, she doesn’t turn me on.

She writes poems, mostly lousy

and at best mediocre

She claims to be suicidal, i don’t doubt her

I’ve had my lucid hours too

I told her to carry an umbrella

When she goes out shopping today

The weatherman forecasts rain in the evening.

And that’s how the world was born.

.......................

The phone rang

The sky was grey

A cockroach crept inside

my ashtray

It was seven o’clock

nobody asks the clock “why?” these days

Nobody wages war,

People are too scared not to wait for someone else

People abhor solitude

People suck.

The phone rang

The sky was grey

Things were cold

inside my head.

.................................

These go-getters can be rich and successful

And can eat drink and screw with the best

And can run the world with machines and money

can get away

with as many lies as they desire to

and can snigger at our laziness all the while

but one thing is certain.

They can never be poets.

........................................

Night falls

Wolves rape my brain.

....................................................

Had I believed in the soul

I would’ve written ten times more

And would’ve created ten times less.

It’s better this way.

And somehow, though i’m not sure

About the causal link,

I think writing and fucking are very much similar.

........................................................

Last night i was sad

And I drank a lot

And I started puking.

I puked at the sun

I puked at the moon

I puked inside holy places

I puked inside me

I puked on poetry and love

I puked on hope and faith

In this way,

I puked the world out

And then I puked my mother’s womb out

And then there was nothing left to puke at or to puke out

So i puked the entire nothing out on nothing

................................................

O god huge stony red-eyed god i am looking at you

I won’t shoot at you

I have spent all my shots shooting at sunflowers

And nightingales

O god big god looking at me from every blank place

One day i will be as numb as you are now.

........................................................

Charging thunderbolts at the world, little boy

You and your terrifying electric bursts

Charge against this cancer of the mind

This metastasis and decay,

Charge against the cards that say mercy

Charge charge against the lion in his cage

Charge against this harmony of asses

Charge against the spectres of filth, the blank silhouettes

And against this synthesis of the inane mundane

And against these tombs of entropy

Be the big bull the world is waving its red rag at

And charge against the wombs and the graves.

Do whatever, just leave my world alone

My life smelling of vomit and stale alcohol

And nicotine and poetry

And sweat

And semen

is my jurisdiction

My life is my life

And I’ll kill you if you charge at it.

...........................................................................