weakened weekend

home sprite depart from some thought
laugh laugh laugh

precipitation

.

.

.

dim

dim

dim

dim

dim

free falling fire beads

like little drum beats

dim

dim

dim

dim

prepare us for the beat

protect us from the heat

dim

dum

doom

doom

doom, trot, oh, they trot.

there come horses on the road

dim

dim

dim

dim

dim

hoof, they say, yeah! they say

men with horses, baby feet

dim

dim

dim

dim

baby feet, full of myth

come the men with baby feet!

dim

dim

dim

dim

coming to claim, riding to claim

back what i thought i won in vain

dim

dim

dim

dim

i hear the men, i hear their call:

embrace the heat and forget the song

dim

dim

dim

dim

see; signal the men, torch they pyre

as vultures turn in widening gyre

dim

dim

dim

dim

sizzles my being, aches my ribs

my flesh comes off! piece by piece!

dim

dim

dim

dim

burns dante, burns the boy

horsemen sing but with joy!

dim

dim

dim

dim

shriek i do, scream i do

as just my mouth they not burn do

dim

dim

dim

dim

now i am a man, i am a man

though my mouth says what i am!

dim

dim

dim

dim!

the new world

america is mad

america is mad!

america rolls through the skies

america is sad...

she cries over long-dead wives

america is road

america is kill

she makes her way through the world as if it's a window sill

america is hawk

america is hack

america is mac

america and cheese

she floats on a sugar-coated fleece

america is lack

she always longs for a good old big-mac

america is made-

america is up

america is down

america is muck

america is yawn

america? - just fawn!

america in me,

america is you,

america in you,

america is me,

america has come,

america has won.

america has come,

america has won.

america has come,

america has won.

instructions

go east

live well

live smile

and die

and live

do they

and go

do they

where to

we know

not now

but for sure

she comes

with hand

in hand

then though

she cries

it's all

well meant

go east

with her

live well

live smile

and die

you'll live

time af-

ter time

raise up

your hand

your heart

your love

make sure

that you

are not

forgot

then though

you cry

it's all

well meant

then though

you cry

it's all

well meant

little farm song

moves moves she through the grass

and bakes the cake and meets the lake

bang bang goes the drum and

chirps the bird and barks the dog

one one says the sun and love the moon

and hey do weep

with joy joy tell me now

how you knew who did the deed

oh, it came like a bad frown

but in the end we managed to seed!

he returneth

descend

stair

despair

mire

lurk

molte

fich

heh

hehe

camel blues

(as) the first finger moves the string,

flash of light: hits blind the eye

the pupil dilates for a fraction of a second

sun leaves the frame for the vision

begging to be recognized, a wide horizon;

a bird, uncomfortable with the gaze, slowly flows away

from the far corner of the blotched frame

noone hears the rustle of his wings---

eager silence absorbs.

waiting for the second note and the

finger pulls!: a lazy cluster of clouds drop

their shadow first on the barn, then

touching his porch.

his hand reaches an unseen pocket

leading to the appearance - a tired cigarette

a crack rises above the reverbed clatter of the cacti

bluesmoke invades the frame with a prolonged gaze -

while the snaky rattle and hum rule

supreme like an eternal drop in time.

silence sweeps the scene with a dustbowl

then third time's pulled the string,

this time, more like a twang

a dog bark! following a rooster hoot!

the door of the house opens, tentatively: a woman

comes out meanwhile sushing an invisible infant

quietly.

and one last string, finally

heard, somewhat protesting

the lady gives in to the smile starting to pervade among her lips

one more bark: this time, more friendly;

smile lifts her arms to an embrace

one deep, last drag; a feeble fog

dispersed quickly.

oh, yes.

shrugged shoulder; blinked eye

running legs; a passionate cry

end of the blues

end of the wild

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!