O queen

thy black body
defying the whole history
of anthropology.

oh, look! um, a mind muse-

ENTRANCE

ladies and gentlemen, gather around!
and please be careful: children should
stick to the group
in case of a fire.

...

on your left, you see a couple copulating
eternally in a frozen moment;
is it a Keats poem gone wrong,
or his parents gung-ho?

...

let us proceed.

on your right, in the elegant canvas,
two trembling feces try their luck
at clawing their eyes out.
one of them looks like a fake Blake,
though it is probably his best friend;
and the other, resembling the madonna of the rocks,
is definitely his girl friend.

...

sure, sure;
we'll definitely do a retour!

now, let's move on to the carving
with the ambition to depict
the smell of his moan
escaping the lips in the dead of the night
with one hand on his luck,
the other on his big, uh, erm, duck,

right kids??

...

err, please comes this way:

oh, yes, ladies and gentlemen;

here comes the pièce de résistance:

before your eyes is a poem,
one which we may well call a pseudo one
trying to imitate the psychic wanderings of a muse,
fake the unreachable heights of poetic music,
and simulate that ancient cliche of a museum.

unfathomable, wouldn't you say?

...

now, as you turn le-

excuse me?
oh...
yes, the smoke...

huh, the fire exit?

please calm down;
it'll be blossoming in a moment,
right after you all burn
down
to crisp
for the poet
to eat.


EXIT.

The Tears of Acanthas

(in courtesy of Mr. McNulty)

The vast swathe of empty spaces
in the visitors' section,
well before the final whistle,
told the story
of another day
of dreary disappointment
for their half of north London.

are you looking for a poorly (hidden) device? have you tried our pun service?

we were having fight after fight;
in the end though,
i treated her
as i should have and she should have
been,
in the first place
in the last place
in the middle place;
i came
to all these places, to make peace
which is
an - in the end, though - awesome thing,
by itself.
oh, look up here now:
see?
a milky, murky white suits her the best.

Man is Immortal

...And you dare to dream of dying in your room,
Taking a puff after a heavy meal without knowing they are your last,
Then, suddenly! grabbing your left arm
Hitting your head first to your desk and then to your hard floor,
Your arms twitching for a second and in a disturbing position frozen
Your eyes looking ad infinitum…
And people from every officiality
Will come looking in that fort of yours,
Scrutinizing everything and
Finding evidence for your cause of collapse;
And people who know you will come too,
Aiming for something else though:
Their memories will start to wilt into a morbid lump of goodwill –
Your being will be butchered down to a perfect doll;
Your figure will be etched on heavens,
Shining like a sedated golden bull.
You were a good man.
A perfect one.
It will be the first and the last time your name will be
Uttered literally and mentally
This well and this many.

Savor it.

Come on!

Die already!..

a small metaphor

when I am sad
I get mad, and I crack
the earth around me;
I become an island,
of only two feet, a land
and across I watch
the world passing by
very slowly.

Simple Past, Present and Future

For E.

It is so good to see you;
You and your hair flowing freely with the wind,
As the sun strokes behind it create a contrast right out of a movie,
And you hold my hand.

Then, that inimitable smile ebbing out of your lips
Takes over both of us
For an infinite moment, we forget all, but
A serenity like one you feel in a story
Your friend has written, you had dreamed of writing
When you idly watched the posts and the brooks passing by slowly
When you were going to a place where you wanted to be.

There, stretching the words to its utmost limits,
Your tiny laugh twinkles in my ears;
Your cheek touches my heart;
I dream of this moment,
Lying next to you, the white of my hair caressing the crease of your eye...
And I hold your hand.

It is so good to see you.
Again, after all this time.
The needless will not be told,
Our hands know that.

I love you.