To wear my heart
upon my sleevelessness
and wear it out
and off the hinge
This is my curse
this is my bliss
Aug 27, 2011
Aug 27, 2011 at 12:19 AM UTC
When I slip naked
into my bed of sleep
I long for peace
and then you come along
with the violence
of dreams
that long for truth
Intrude
lie on me
with the weight of words
spoke in a dream
and yet
in vigil heard
Apr 26, 2010
Apr 26, 2010 at 3:54 PM UTC
Rescue me from geishaland
like a knight in shiny armour
****** me away
like a
dragon in heat
Your paws
across
my heart
better than this
I´d give a lifetime
in geishatown
for a minute of you
Treacherous thief
with the heavenly mouth
A devious Joker
the joke´s on you
Mar 23, 2010
Mar 23, 2010 at 8:38 PM UTC
I´m building something
that is not you
It looks and tastes and smells
like you
but my invention
has made it
worthy
eternal bliss
I am in love with the you
that I feel
under the sheets
of my dreamworld
across the river
from the you that is devious
and deceitful
and wants me not
though the beast´s
giant mouth
will swear it
I have made you out
into this god of
love and beauty
and blinded stay
to the
mediocre
giant ******
of your soul
Mar 23, 2010
Mar 23, 2010 at 8:36 PM UTC
Deceived in men
and seeking
no revenge
Pleasure machine betrayed
by hypocrisy´s hounds
their howling hordes
come knocking on my door
crushed in the mud
like flies
or summer pests
by men mediocre
and their willing slaves
After they tasted the fruit
to hear them swear
"she was a temptress"
to see the fundamental lie
and feel no need
to protest
innocence
Feb 1, 2010
Feb 1, 2010 at 2:18 AM UTC
This imperfect me
a pleasure machine
a bait for chameleons
liars and a thief
waiting by the phone
waiting by the door
the boy with the skatebooard
like salmon
race against the slant
Pass by a black woman
with her plastic bags
full of empty bottles
plans her drunken feast
the boy with the skateboard
asks me
"what are you waiting for?"
and I have no answer
She´s back now
the bottles are full
she smokes and shakes her ***
like an old worn horse
We will all get drunk
and wash away another year
Feb 1, 2010
Feb 1, 2010 at 2:11 AM UTC
let´s meet in the hole
he said
where the ghost of the towers
looms
a friendly face
so long awaited
By rising dawn
the cruise ship pulls in
at Cape Liberty
and there´s the bustle
of anticipation
the excitement in the air
that we will see
the loving face
hear once more the loving words
the only words
that are
in the right language
And all in vain
You have to
stay onboard
Captain Papanicolau said
to honour gynechology
all the things we could have done
in Brooklyn
and Manhattan
and all the New York people
and New York streets
the trumpet players
and the Museum of Modern Art
Meant not for me
this is the new
forbidden land
the immigration officers
its guarding hounds
this is new york
this rubble heap
and the yellow cranes
the bridge and the horizon
and in the summer
I shall go
to the Bermuda Triangle
and hope to disappear
Nov 23, 2009
Nov 23, 2009 at 9:24 AM UTC
The Randomness of things
is inexcusable
How randomly we meet
and part our ways
We fall apart
estranged from what we loved
For no reason at all
and no governing rules
Fresh meat becomes
Leftovers of tomorrow
Fresh love is turned
into a surge of pain
The randomness of days
is inexcusable
How randomly the night
steals us away
And never to return
from its mysterious depth
our eyes
get adjusted to the dark
Nov 23, 2009
Nov 23, 2009 at 9:22 AM UTC
My blood is marked by genocide
on the two sides
of these Atlantic lines
My fate was sealed with the blood stains
of cotton workers from Marash
slaughtered by the ottoman
and the mixed blood
of conquerors
and massacred
of masters and estranged slaves
The rot of colonialism
lurks underneath
our 15 second democracy
My eyes were numbed
by what I hadn´t seen
after the ***** war was over
after the bowels of the Earth
had vomited
bones in Uruguay
lifeless infant mummies
in the soft heart
of Africa
after the tide brought in
the loot
of generals,
green men of power and no shame
My past was carved with knives
on children´s bones
in the mountains
of Leninakan
with hanged peasants
on the slopes of Ararat
My human pride was dumped
in Rio de la Plata
one summer night
in a death flight
that time when I
had learnt to sing
before I grasped
the word
The word was born
from the colonial rot
under our soil
and under Africa
The word was black
and cast a deadly storm
before the sun
The word was Genocide
Nov 23, 2009
Nov 23, 2009 at 3:12 AM UTC