Fleeting

Cry

Stoppage

Yes and goes

Fame woes

Beloved

Sonne knows

Rampant

Cane moans

Rum flows

Hum, tilt

Rim grows

Helen, doze

Bubble blow

Child drowns

Breathe

The Reading (Please join me in welcoming...)

And I start the reading. I utter the words formed before this body of people. I, at first, hesitatingly, then with accelerating courage, talk about the words I intented to be together at will. As I open and close my mouth in an increasingly incessant manner, people look at me. Not at my mouth, necessarily, but at me. And they think and reflect and ponder and muse various, various things.

Simply some say, man this is bad.

Simply some say, man this is okay.

Simply some say, man this is good.

Man, this is good, I say to myself, while saying other things to the people in front of me, listening. At least, they are listening and some of them are looking at me with a kind smile hanging by the side of their lips, some of them have a more impatient expression hovering around their whole being and some of them just fidget and fudge.

Fidget and fudge.

I fidget and fudge a little, and as I warm to the occasion and kinda fool myself that people are really (indeed) into listening to me, my confidence starts to soar up to the skies with the speed of an air balloon I just saw yesterday, having thought that how steady and elegantly it rose with dignity. My polyphonic spree. And I---

And I---

And I waver for a fraction of a second and the hunters hidden in the audience bare their teeth with a flash! How immediate their perception! How imperious their judgment! My eyes are dazzled and I raise my hand to hide from the reflection coming from the teeth and when I manage to get a hold on my prose I feel better of a sudden and I smile, and a bright one at that.

Hunters go back to their dens.

The teeth disappear.

A good move, one of my friends before me thinks while I see her approving smile, trying not to betray too much.

Then what? Talk, jabber, hop, and jaw, while muscle, rip, rip, rip and bow! Perplexity starts to coat tens of faces in front of me very rapidly as I utter the ostensibly insensible words with an exclamatory tone, giving me great satisfaction. Yes, they are listening and they cannot do anything about this nonsense as they try their best to attach at least some sense to what I just uttered seven seconds ago. And yes, they will stay to the end at least for a chance to catch an embarassment on my part.

We’ll see; we’ll see.

A sip of water brings the much need moisture to words as they were becoming dry and stale. Not so much, now.

And I look around for a second as my tongue and my lips help me finish three consonants and two vowels. While my most famous orifice is busy, the eyes help me notice several thoughts hanging in the air, from
having a smoke to wishing not being here in this place in the first place while, outside, there is a lively Friday afternoon waiting with a beer in her hand. I feel angry. Why not?

Delusion springs to mind immediately and without reason; I feel an unstoppable wave washing over me with some stupidly repressed nostalgia. Why am I thinking of a National song right now? Yes, inescapably, I’ll write now, in my mind, while at the same time I read, with my mouth: Vanderlyle Crybaby Geeks fill my head and they dynamite their way out as soon as they are all in. Now I’m hearing that archaic cry of anguish near the end of the song, seemingly coming out of a mamooth’s mouth and it never felt this real.

This.

Real.

Which brings us to our subject which I should have started talking about long time ago: can intermetahypertextuality of life be regarded as a pseudoquasirepresentation of youthadult narratives?

Who knows?

Maybe you, maybe me.

Only thing that is certain is that one must never trust utterances – nor sentences, for that matter – starting with please join me in welcoming...

Or you may find yourself making a text which is not yours yours and which is mine yours as I read it and as you listen to it and create it in your minds again and again and again. So, please join me in welcoming this text.

We made it.

It is ours.

It is.

Ours.

itch/drink/king

little, little creepy things on my mind
do nothing but make my brain itch
and so goes the last drop of whisky
in the bottle
with a bang!
and with a pang
of pain too, which is probably unavoidable
when you are drinking with a thin king:
he knows;
he watches;
he's been there (and here too) before.

and the itching continues relentlessly,
leaving tiny remindy rashes after them
as the hand of my heart grapples in the dark
to relieve the pain.

the king looks at me knowingly and i can do nothing
but just rotate my dilated pupils aimlessly
in my coarse sockets of eye and i! for the hundreth time!
declare my loyalty.

i'll drink with you, king,
i'll drink with you
as long as i forget about
the fish, the cat, the fight
and
yes,
those thingies
thingies with teeth!

a real poem

with mode
with note
with soot
with doubt

with rhyme
with teeth
with lies
with deed

with some
with me
with one
with thee!

precipitation I

drops
fall
drums
beat;
bead
after
bead.

hm?

maybe it's time, it's time, passacaglia
maybe it's time to forget about the dead cats and the mercurial fish;
maybe it's time to forget about the threadbare mythologies of your own juvenile conception
maybe it's time
maybe it's time to shelve the disfigured face
of the stranger and the long-fought battle between night and day
maybe, passacaglia,
it is time to dis(re)member the mechanizations of your mind and heart for something new
and to sit still for the longest time
instead of waiting for that fogridden signal
from the lighthouse etched on a misconceived heaven

who knows?
you know?
we know;
maybe it's time
maybe it's been time
for a long while,
for your sake and ours
keep that in mind
passacaglia
for a dime and a quart,
will ya?

spice

when the tea meets the pepper
you are never full

when the banana splashes the milk
there comes your favorite food

when the water turns to white
roars and roars of laughter

when the circles become one
the man comes around

when the kiss meets the cheek
a well lived life!

do daa dee (inner conflict)

the thought of you provoking a war within me to destroy------
is just too tempting but not enough to lay my guns down
i will cry and i will wipe my tears
i will cry and i will wipe them again
then i will remember that twilight twinkle and i will laugh and
rise and rise my hand! raised! will say:

"i am well being
and for me being well
comes with the territory
it does not depend on any
nor will it ever be sorry
for the mistakes that i've unknowingly didden do da dee"

and so will it sing like that talented bastard
singing why do you sing hallelujah
and it will fucking mean something to ya!

then i will remember not to forget ever that
my life's joy does not depend on anyone but me
actually
as my simple rhymes with ly's and e's will come together happily
(with a daring jitterbug in the dark), if you plea
(yes, guessed right: like a meadow lark!)
do they do will sing once and again and again
we love you can we love you we can love you love can you we?
do
da
dee

victory will be ours!
yes baby!
ours it will be ours it will be ours it will be
a hard fought well deserved fiercely protected delicately loved victory,
one that is
you
and
me

with a simple, simple melody:

do

daa

dee.

grace under pressure

hand touchin',

mind restin',

eyes closin',

smile risin',

tear fallin',

human being.

great trout

great trout wakes up early in the morning water shine and then stretches her oily back

and luscious body for the new floating ahead

is she hungry?

great trout when sometimes swims along the sea

sometimes seeing the backbone of an old boat just to be reminded of her own grave and--

great trout dismisses these thoughts and continues along the serene waters of her creek

and my creek she says to herself is what i made it to be and it is mine

great trout hums

mine now and mine

my creek is mine

though nothing but a ravine

my creek is mine

as the great trout moves her flaps, pleased with herself for the rhymes she found

she remembers the cat that tried to catch her by that coast of small warm stones

great trout laughs!

that cat was a cat alright

like i am a proud trout in my own right

he tried

and i fled

now when he fucks his lover in the dark of a wartime alley

he will remember me, how he couldn't catch me, and then his futility will make

him to fuck his lover harder, till their meows reach across the battered skies

annoying some stupid fireflies along the way, way ahead and up above as they become a twinkle in my sorry eyes

am i hungry?

shrugs great trout shrugs

as she makes way for a frantic flotilla of teefish swimming

ah the kids the trout muses

a joy to eat a joy to beat

for the ones up up above and for the ones down down below

great trout laughering thinks, her thoughts in disarray with a sudden wave,

i sure be a crazy bitch at times

but still i knows of my response abilities towards the say, towards the say

say the water say the world

and great trout tightens her back and bone and tightens her mind

dives deep and reaches the water's calm feet under

which is another reminder of how the great trout started the day

with a stretch

with a thought

desperately trying to avoid the impending feeling that this maybe her last day

as she reaches for a piece of bread hanging afloat.

we are hungry.

life likes

stab
pain
scream
dark

SL.SE

Take Bus 30 from GreatExpectations towards UnfulfilledPromises.

Your departure from GreatExpectations is at approx. 20:11,

your arrival in HollowGut is at 20:16.

At HollowGut change to OrdinaryLife Line 35 towards ForcedMaturity

Your departure from HollowGut is at 20:19.

I repeat: your departure from HollowGut is at 20:19.

...

Okay, you arrive in WellDeservedSolace at 20:41.

The duration of your journey is approx. 30 years.

Relax and have a nice journey!

what she said

she says it makes me feel all warm inside and i get red cheeks
she says and the butterflies has not left my stomach and it is you, i miss
what she says....

...she says blush blush blush!
and i love feeling tiny next to you,
and having that strange exalting feeling that you,
can, crush me at any given day with ur strength.
and, can, you believe it, she says, any time, any time...
all these things she says are mine.
and all i, can, say
even just a small sentence from you is big enough for me
to ride on a gallop with joy baby!

murder of two

two remnants i still have from that day:
and warm blood
dressing
the bodies on their knees
and guttural muffled screams
flinging themselves
out of their freshly torn tracheas

ferrywise

ferrywise seagulls scream around you for a hundred years
and the tides may continue to caress your back as long as they want

ferrywise it is normal to hear and bear the billion thoughts of a million people
sun after sun
and moon after moon

ferrywise radiowaves weave your ears with gentle clatter
reminding of sweet surrenders in a bedroom with afternoon sunlight
and small talk about whatever happened
to the man on the moon

ferrywise children's running screams may echo in your ears for many hours
after all is gone
and when all is back
you can look at the sun and relax

ferrywise the sea is your home
ferrywise you are alone
and crowded
all the time.

telltale

the bones of a fish dried far ago
under the unknown sun of a forgotten beach
crushed gleefully by two tiny feet
of a crazy little girl
feverishly looking for a star fish
illustrating a radial symmetry
arousing the jealousy of a tiger
that searched for a long lost friend
and in the end killed her happily
ripping and ripping and ripping
the face the throat the abdomen
barely saving the life of the fish
about to be devoured as a delicious dish
and leaving it to lie
forever on the stellar sand that say nothing
and will say nothing
to the girl running back to find her owners
with two drops of blood emerging under her feet
and from the eyes, two drops of tear following;
two for the tiger,
two for the fish.

repetition (in a good way?)

again
the beauty of creation shatters a brain
trying to reach a heart
!a TiNgLinG eLectRiciTy!
crawls tenaciously through a being;
tears of gratitude evaporate with the heat seething
of the moment that is to come:
the moment of formation:
an orgiastic spree breaks free from the crotch of a soul
as atoms of a mind and a time stick together eagerly, never to let go each other again
they fuck each other once!
and twice!
and again!
till the word gains a
gain
oh
new
oh
fuck!
a becomes you
the becomes your
and your soul is wet!
your atoms lie down
supine...
...still, waiting for somehum to come, still...
distant melodies reverberate between... your toes?
and splash!
wake up.
you should've known better:
dozing under the sun, in the last day of your holiday
is not good your head and brain.
take a shower now, and, uh, cover your erection.
behind you, by the car, your children, having woken you up unknowingly, are waiting.
and an unanswered call on your phone: your boss, probably asking something lame
again.

to life:

and now happiness comes like a soft blanket
over my shoulders put slowly by a friend

and today in the news there were photos of the universe
taken 600 million years after the big bang

now the simple violin of a song, from a hallelujah
pierces my bones with joy with the help of an &

life, and ampersand, you don't know what i'm going through but
good morning and i love you so much today!

wishnot

i ask, do you want to go up there?
she says, yes i do, but only with you
i ask, but why do you tremble, my little mare?
she says, you are so gentle...
i say, why, thank you
and she says, just hug me, will you?

...

then, she starts to cry
like a little bird terrified
of the brightness of her own feathers
in which I'd love to be hidden
and fly
with her through nights,
ignorant of us,
the tell tale shine of her wings diminished
by grandmother-smelling clouds.