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!

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