Am I a painter?
-No.
Am I a sculptor?
-Yes, but not primarly.
        A writer?
-Whether I want it or not - yes. But words are only a tool.
I think of myself as an electrician. Some mad scientist electrocuting others, experimenting, playing with reactions, creating or recreating. You can call me a time travelling machine guy too, these roles are connected though. A sower, yes.
I'm a vomiter as well; a cold sweating frog.
An anchor throwing man.

From time to time,
I hear your voice through a wall.
****, girl,
                I love you.
You have something special,
I value you.

"-I think we should move him to Mallorca, or some kind of... I dunno, Carribeans? It's too rainy here.
          -Oh honey, I don't think it's going to work..."

These artificial surroundings won't heal my heart.
Transplantation went wrong.
Drip drop, the drops are falling
On leaves
Rain everywhere, soaking everything
Boom, Boom, Boom, Boom
In this garden of mine plants live their lives
Roots and stems and leaves
Lovers of rain; seekers of self destruction
Striving to know.

"-How is he? I haven't seen him in a while.
          -No idea. He's acting weird nowadays."

The keeper of the values, the guardian of the golden shell
Believe me, I'm very well.
In this waterfall, this foamy-quick stream
Growing bones around me, the self-stems.

Let's stray off a bit from abstraction,
Though I find it to be the best way,
of expressing myself.
Hey! Give me a paper sheet and a pen,
and contribute to a creation
of the best poem ever written.


Smelling and admiring dead flowers,
Here on this vast plain; the ashy moor,
Where ghosts, like an ancient greek deities,
Dance and drink,
And stroll, chatting calmly.
Picking the black petals,
And harvesting the honey,
That causes an explosion of taste!
How is it, that dead and grey
Lead to a birth of life and colours?
Even after all these years?

Under the stars
and the pale moonlight,
I recall these lines:

"I want to drink the heated wine
Gushing out from fiery hearts of the Geniuses,
I want to kiss the flushed lips of Divas,
And stroke the manes of lone lions."

I want to eat a piece of your soul,
and taste it through and through,
and want you to do the same
with mine.
In this feast,
I want to take part in,
Whoever you are,
          Whenever we are.




I want to eat all these foods,
The most raw of all,
No lies, no fake shells,
Just the primal taste;
the core.

Went down, slippery cold stairs
Spiraling down, words on walls,
The paper sheets?

Heard the music down there...
Down... Down...
I've heard it before;
Down... Down...  Rumble down...
An underground celebration,
                      So I went - down.

        (the cave)
Infants were there, dark rooms,
Bathing in the boiling red wine,
Laughing madly in the fumes,
The ceiling and walls were moist and dripping.

These babies, visages of chimera,
Evil grins cutting their faces,
Evil smiles, gruesome masks
and cigars in their hands, claws...
          -Stop!!!

This I will unleash,
One day, whiskey, liqours,
Yeah.
Beers, drinks... rumbling.
Calm dark surface of the lake
At night
And the carnival nearby,
Mile away or so...
you can hear their sounds,
muted slightly;
faint lights of torches,
at the other side of lake.
Weird tribesmen
Praising the summer solstice
With howls, maracas,
Tiny bells, dance,
Fire.

-But listen to me now!
Now, when you hear me,
Look here, look closely.
Put your hand in me,
Can't you feel I'm almost boiling?
I'm no mud, I'm a clear water,
Almost as a spring!
Swift and clear - and hot.
                                
                           ­        and dark.

A man walks down the street and notices a coin;
He picks it up and looks closely.
After a brief investigation he sighs, and throws it away.
He's found no value,
*******

                                 Please, decorate the interior of your heart,
                                 Tattoo the words, quotes and sentences,
                                 Engrave the walls of your skull.

                  You are all killing me
                  with your smiles
                  Cold needles, dead icicles in my heart.
                  Birds wallowing in mud.

Dogs meeting each other for a first time,
Stiff bodies, sniffing, looking
-building distance.
Stiff body
"I don't like him" - thinks one dog.

                  Penny with no value,
                  **** him, let him rot

                                 You don't realise at how deep water
                                 you are looking at
                                 and refuse to probe it.

Leaves on the wind, soil,
Hyacinths growing(think about their smell),
Cold receding, come, spring.
Oh, I used to be there.