we are cute till we are stupidly good
after that we switch on bad stuff and pretend
to do the wise guys

the world is full of beloved things
and used people
sometimes the roles are changing
to beloved people and used things

actually we are here to do and undo mistakes
not to specialize in fakes of perfection

there is no problem we are predestined to carry
after all everyone will carry his death away

you must just expect the days to see you
with their own eyes
with their suns and plants and all relatives

let them gather more and more to see you
days and nights with their wondering stars
at least a moment to see your face
just how
it is

and let them say:
woo-ow!

Mottor:”If you wanna tell a crazy joke to God, tell him about your plans”

joy to the world at 4 a.m. my cell is ringing
like a sad sheep its my granny saying hey I leave you
I am going to the Veterans New Year Party I have a randez-vous

I am grabbing my head: Jeesus...world
I am drinking since yesterday non-stop
plain water with lemon I am sick
from his cookies and seriously thinking
to get to The Suicider's New Year Party

well not just thinking but really going
I have my ticket since last year
when even Picky my loving pit-bull left me

actually why should I make crazy plans
when my personal angelic unconsciousness guards me
I am checking in on the plane maybe it brakes in the air
and I will have my party with the fellows of Bin Laden
I will sing cazzaciock while shooting with the katiusha
on empty ***** bottles

joy to the world and dance your brains out
you suicidal lonely kid
aha that is the new hit of a virtual band
called The Kings of Desperados
while slaves are jubilant in their free time
working to stay put in front of a idiot
also called TV to have a wonder

I have my ticket what can I do
I am so childish sometimes I have a miffed balloon
a fire-extinguisher with champagne
some poem-fireworks wrapped around me

joy to the world I will ignite them all
here in the public market
I will blow them all like a charm!

because of the lack of employees
in the health system
the sanity of my country goes insane

imagine that we made a  revolution and survived
to watch this hospital in which
more than a dozen children where burned alive

”what I saw was apocalyptic”
said the fireman
”all those children crying out loud in the flames
and nothing in that room to prevent such a horror”

”we made anything is possible”
stated the doctors
half of the kids are now dead
and the rest burned like hell

Ceausescu also made everything is possible
but he did not burn the children alive

there is no other country in the world
where babies where burned in the hospital
this us the ugliest crime ever shocked humanity
this is the mud we are drowning in

Romania just burn your children
and lift your shoulders like you got no idea
what the *******  is going on

eat your hands dear God
there is nothing else left to be done

I have nothing with or against you
and this really means nothing
but the fact that I am free

the world is full of  love-slaves
illusionists and pretenders
politicals or apoliticals
atheists or christians
each one is only saving his appearance

tell these thieves to *******
and let us be kidnapped by The Circus
let us be made Princes and Frogs

in this ******* happy end
of the world

two warm grains in the eyes of the titmouse
we stretch our hands and flap-flap: is gone
the branch shivers
in its place

that is for shure why
I’m building my afterlife before
my branch shivers too
but I am home I am always here
dressed just in myself like the sword of Toledo

although it’s almost september with fruits gone to warmer countries

I think I’ll take autumn and throw it to the ground
and then I’ll pretend to vegetate

of course

I’ll be watching

I had a budgie called The Pope who was swearing at me
he was a walking madhouse
he was saying shut the hell up
you crazy son of a poet
he was jumping about the walls saying you’re driving me nuts
and I’ll fly your ****** feathers off

he was killing my sanity striking a pose
and doing  the one
with Mircea Dinescu:

“ lady I am youngh I’m your clown
I have the **** of a serious man
I like perpetuity from navel down
so **** me and love me again and again”

we were dying on ourselves out of insane laughter
The Pope was laughing too **-**-he-he-ha-ha
we were self exterminating oh yeah
and at the end gone back in his cage like a well-trained dog
wagging his tail and barking
he was making us laugh for his two crumbs of bread

maybe to soon
ugliness was knocking us off out perches
and ugly indeed it was
the day I found him
with his claw in his neck

oy sucker I said
listen now
hell will come again
to take ya and
hell will weep for ya

in-sane

mottor: „fountains are drying by habitude” – Sixtus Aquarius

in the common acception
in the heart of small capacity of aunt Haby
there are still surviving reserves

and I quote:  
“what poetry mister Gee?
dreams and illusions which go off on one
to humbug us for good”  

aunt Haby sticks her hand
illustratively in the ground and says man
I know for a fact:
what’s in my hand
is no ‘green planes on the wall’!  

Yet
the thing is
that there is no way of knowing
how much poetry is there in the ground
at World's End  

so the Poeth-dog is coming it sniffs
her demonstrative hand
and then the beast raises its foot
  
some ms Habies are even stroking him
on this matter
arguing that it’s ordinary but they know better

for most often is driven away
from heaven
and everything is reduced to a few solemn
and sexymenthal cry-barkings
  
this is where I come in
friendly like a racing horse
a flyer swimmin’ on the ground
and aunt Haby jumps on me
she just found out I’m transporting poems
internally and internationally
and reality is that o-kaaay
what can I say?
  
aunt Haby is sad
her hand hurts like hell
I walk airborne underground like the gadfly
I save her urgently to the worlds end
right there where the land is resurrecting us
after the glaciations
  
where the entire world is wrenching in tears
of laughter