Saturday, June 9, 2012

Tiramisu Tarantula Tetanus Tendrils Tentacles whatever haha blabla gaga gooogoo


Fishes screw in waters of love
And the whole world stood still
as Jesus walked on water –
Staring deep into our hearts
And staring straight into the eyes
Of the raving beast within.

And under the blank open sky
The carnival broke loose
I was hiding
with the goblins –
drinking their wine
fucking their women
and so i missed all the fun
As Jesus went across
the waters of love
and perished by his sad crucifix.

Now, i look at the waters of love
Fishes screw in waters of love
The nights turn green by waters of love

And the beast – it still raves.

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

Elephants of pure desire
They have golden tusks
I am talking to them
They are talking to me
I am talking to you
Are you talking to me?

And then of course, the need to stare
And not judge
because of and despite
Everything
Is there.
And the diamonds are there too.



Where be you, Bird Mother?
Where be your white  wings?

Your conception: sexless, hyperborean
Etched, like a hyperbole,
On the guts of sonnets and bees:
Is fascinating.

Child, look at me
I’m not so scary as they say i am
I’ll tell of fairies that turn into monsters
I’ll tell of monsters that turn into fairies
And I’ll tell of that great secret dream
We have all been dreaming to dream.


Child, look at me
Because i will kill you if you don’t.


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


Sometimes the whole Universe
Seems hell bent on puking its grief
All over me.
And the rain sends its army
Across the horizon
And across bleary railway tracks
To make fight those four guards
Who have defended me
Against every shit.
So this one goes for the guards.

And for the rest:
“Screw you, fuckers
I can still take more punches than you.”

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


Sometimes the sight of panties hanging from railings
of crumbling balconies when you were 14 and
all alone
can be as
dreadful as the  sight  
 of a dog with bellies flattened out by automobile tyres
lying dead on gruesome dark macadam
when you are 24
and all alone.

So beware.
The sharks are after you
And they can get you
any day.

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


This then is separation
A separation is like the princess of twilight
undressing
before going to bed.
And this is how
The world moves
-          On alcohol
-          On glycerine
-          On sexmama with big boobs
-          On wolves from hell
-          On rancid corpses of love
-          On me
-          On cruelty
-          On kindness

And then there’s this flower that smells of love
And i had fish and rice tonight
And it’s raining where you live
And it’s not raining where i live
And moths pee at moon
And sadness is a lost verse
And the mountains are sad tonight
And the ants are strong tonight
And you are gone
And i remember licking droplets of sweat off the back of your earlobes
And monsters have green eyes
And tigers have red eyes
And what the fuck am i even talking about?

This then is separation
One sharp punch and it all gets hazy.

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



The unchangeability of me, here, steadfast
is unmatched
Even the streets lead to cities, rivers,
Dead-ends
Or at least to other streets
And even the stars die out
And the dogs that bark at stars
Meet their end
In way too many ways:
Age, starvation, accidents et cetera et cetera.
Poetry, you see, is strong
But not strong enough for me
I’ve fought many a duel with it
And i’m still here
resilient , imperishable, drunk.
Sure as the devil’s skin is red
and the pigs are bleeding
 and reading Plath on midnights fucks your nerves up
and everything rots,
I am here.
And i will be here for as long as i wish to be

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


June, 2012
I have lived for 289 months
The watermelons of life have busted
Can’t focus at the broader picture
Love’s grown tentacles
Chinese whispers echo on walls
On streets that have no names i walk
Theatres of pure colour are stoned
The lions have put their flags down
Tonight will be fine
for the rope and the blade
But what do i care?
Below these floors
Below the soil
Reptiles breed in tender mercy
Smooth patterns point towards
places that are very dark
And deep down below
there’s water
And deeper down
there’s fire.

To approach these hours
like peeling brassieres off
hookers’ breasts
is good enough
What else do drowning ants need?
A leaf maybe.

They’ve painted sunflowers
on cigarette butts
You can live for the sunflowers
or else
You can always consider Phlebas
after a few choked fortnights.


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

And the boobs go flap
Flap!
as if all life-form
has been dunked down below the oceans
every day, the mad bikers
rage through the city
pungent forces push through
it’s all turning pink
and orderly
built, like the axis
around one single leitmotif
it’s like kissing on the scars
again and again
we survive
storms
floods
fires
to find ourselves
in a place
which sucks so much
that we would’ve chosen
storms floods and fires
instead.
And the boobs go flap
Flap!

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




5 comments:

atindriyo said...

What is a cynic?
Someone who defines 'water' as 'what fish screw in'.


o how can i ever thank Bee Zus for this? how?

Zeebs said...

Hahaha. Pay me in Bukowski.

Sometimes the whole Universe

Seems hell bent on puking its grief

All over me.

(Wait, it seems like you paid me)

Who is Milke?

atindriyo said...

Rilke's milky brother i guess

Zeebs said...

I call upon Milke, Rilke's brother.

Soumi said...

"Kiss by kiss I cover your tiny infinity,
your margins, your rivers, your diminutive villages,
and a genital fire, transformed by delight,
slips through the narrow channels of blood
to precipitate a nocturnal carnation,
to be, and be nothing but light in the dark."