I always thought that if I've got too much to say
I dont say a thing.
#
And I really really don't
What is the intertextual meaning of your eyes while I eat your lips?
What are the cultural assumption of your fingers on my skin?
What are the metaphors in your head while I turn into an Allen Ginsberg poem under you?
What are the language choices really meant to achieve (which they do on  a Freud-deep level)?
I want to eat you like a book
Drink you as if Kerouac is your father
Bathe in you, because you are Nabokovs quill
I only have words to play with

I  want to see you in the daylight
Morning blues creeps onto your birthmarks
Eyes are so very bright
Your hair
Wrists
You.
You own yourself now
This is very important
Please love yourself
Please please please
Listen to me before my voice turns into an insane wild howl
Hitting the highest notes, disappears and I gasp for breath please listen
You are your very own
This is pretty much all you have.
Your belongings consist of two ardent eyes, stretchmarks,
Arms, legs issued by a pair each.
Your mind
Whatever is your every thought
Whatever you believe is true, simply
Because you believe it.
It’s all yours, this is you.
It’s all up to you.

I smell Motherland in the corridor
She crept up on me with her soap, drunken men and things I’d rather forget
I was thinking about death since I was 10.
.
The plane gets up,
Chicken soup is served.
Here are your nuts.
Have this lolly, the tension is getting
Higher
Higher
And higher
I cannot hear anything.
.
We are now in a very neat place
Incheon, South Korea
Fancy, shiny, pricey
Another plane, bigger
Higher
Higher
Higher
Yoghurt and cheesecake
I like this food better.
.
We get off, and even the ground shines
The air is very different
For the first day I smell this country it does has a specific smell
And after 5 years
You creep up on me, my love.
.

Stop looking for questions to ask
Because you know all the answers
You know exactly what you have to do and who
You want to be.
Stop whatever you want to stop
And do whatever you want to do but remember
To look at the right scale.
Don’t let a minority become a stick in a wheel to
Your big, grandiose plan or a desire
And remember that minor things are minor
None the less and none the more.

P. I
If God took LSD he would think he was me
I would never know I never took drugs
In school or out
Even that time when my eyes were red and I shout out
“Hugs not drugs!”
And hug my drugmate for whom hugs were too far and who lately stripped and walked the streets naked with me
Being absolutely sober ofcause.
P. II
I remember once
The shining sun went down and true suns shined
Upon someones bed
I danced tango with a pretty pretty boy
And then I made love to his girlfriend
I really do not understand how that happened
But the next morning we got dressed and I never saw them again.

P.III
After a long silent busride
With me and my best companion in roles of passengers
We drank wine and to be honest I do not remember much of that night
Except that when we winded up at a bustop I was kissing a girl
And I had no idea who she was and I don’t have any idea now.
We also met a gypsy who was one of the best people I’ve met
It was definitely one of the best nights.
I hope there are more of them to come.

At night
Streets of this city are isolated
Whoever said cities do not sleep might
Have lied.
The morning touches the sky so gently
As a lover
Paints it so tenderly
Yet with passion of blinding love
This city
Has people of most ardent eyes
Of most wonderous hearts.
I will be one of them sometime
That will be when I’m at my best.

I haven’t been
At my best yet.

“From that moment, I knew it was too late to save her.
She has gone all gooey in the middle.”


This is ******* ridiculous,
We are both awake at 1am and you don’t talk to me
I’m way too meretricious
Source of vast and ******.
What thoughts I have of you tonight?
This night, the other night?
The night you came to me in a dream
And frightened me with your sight?

I know I’m pathetic
This is  all the context of me
None of this is poetic,
I’m bathing in your disdain-
That’s the privilege of mine
Maybe the time will pass
And I wont feel the need to drown my sorrows in wine.
  
We are both together
On different sides of everything
That could be imagined-
Did we leave something that still stings?

Once in one of my angelic dreams
You were a creature that sings
You gave me hope, I don’t want to admit that
But in this machinery of morose bleeding days
It vanished, like it wasn’t even the case.

I sat at the trainstation at 7am and the temptation to jump under the train was so great I nearly did
But I couldn’t because I forgot my shoes at your place and I had your smokes and key in my pocket
The security walked past me and tears ran down my face making the path for more of them to travel down
I got on a train and it was cold I didn’t want to sit in the quiet carriage I rested my head on a window
I cried rain but then sun shined and maybe it was going to be all right people talked about their lives I heard them
And then I cried again
And again
And again
And again
And I still do I wish it stopped but
I want someone to really care about me or maybe just like me a little that would be great as well
Im sorry I’m such a **** person.

**** everyone
Better go read a book.

I put my cigarette out on my thick dead skin
I feel no pain, I see no sin
I bleed with ink and ash falls
Off my foggy head.

During the autopsy
Kind pathologist  will find the ashtray
In the web of darkened   arteries
Some other gray day

During my days of eternal physical struggle
The roads of dirt made my feet bleed tears
I’ll go to sleep once I wrap myself with fears

4am
Knows everything
4am has seen me naked
Crying alone
Maybe once  on someone’s shoulder
4am
Has seen me dancing, happy mind wrapped in intoxication

In the cold light of morning
We are the most honest beasts
Before the day is calling
Faces are grey, soul is clear.

4am
You sleep through it
Bed toasty warm
Whose body is it with you
Dreaming with you through storm?

4am
Got me an A in history
4am
Showed me the most beautiful sunrises
Pushed me into Morpheus arms
At 4am
There are no disguises.

you never know
what turn your life takes next
for life is raw.

what is the next insane folly
you are to play next?
Stare in eyes of your Dolly
But never kiss her*

Nothing really matters
In the sea of time that is given
Write more letters
For days will pass by,
And they will be the only thing to remember.

Do insane things,
Get some cigarettes at 2 am
While drunk and naked.

Forget something,
Or keep it to remember
In  warm month of November
Overflow with joy.

Dance around the church naked with your friends
Laugh hard and drink quickly
One day it’s all going to end
So do it weekly.

is transparency of a soul is to be admired?
im so tired
so many things and so little time
id rather have my hands wired
your mouth lied
i've put my believes in a wrong person
my thoughts of you are better than your being
i was willing
did not happen
keeps me happy
maybe ill get a chappie
words are like water,
taking whatever shape  you please
there is no release
from mandatory human form
rosehip has the most thorn
makes no sense anymore
my soul is a little sore.

Lay your pale body on my bedsheets of Chinese dawn
Let me explore your skin of sublime velvet
Cease the troubles of foregone
And I beg, never leave me alone

Take me into your arms
Make me melt like candle wax
Charm me with your charms
Expose me to no harms

I know my poems dont rhyme
But they do come from heart
Therefore, its no crime
To play with words from time to time

Horrible horrible horrible
You are horrible
And so am I.

Is my condition curable?
What apothecary of extra brilliant kindness
Has the magic remedy?

Can I get it from the chemist?
Does the wizard has it?
Or will he absorb in the forest-flavoured mist?

I can't think anymore
The night  is here
Morpheus is knocking on my door
I'll let him in my boudoir
And read him Charles Baudelaire

Did her lips ever gave birth to my name again
After when I kissed her?
It’s because of her im not sane
My heart still sings to her.

Another lips I kiss now
In other arms I find my solace
Another eye under sublime brow
Lights my day

But still, when sun shines in my soul
Vision of you I see
Your love to poetry and rock’n’roll
Strums my mind to this day.

O blond angel of blue eyes and Nabokov quotes
Where are you now?
I know on whose shoulder you cry
I know who is your sun
Your poems lie forgotten on my shelf, burned by the fire of my soul

I saw you and him in Queen St mall, O I wish it was my hand you were holding

I remember we walked down this street held hands you kissed me both at the same time I was so happy
I remember you, so ambitious shining on my sky
Your light never faded

Do you still play with rhymes at times?
Is your night still bright?
Does moon play you a tune?

Is every girl to whom I split my heart with be only your reflection?
Cold gaze,  brilliant mind, gentle gentle  gentle
Im lost in a maze

I still think of you so often

Every word I squeezed out of myself
in a schizophrenic frenzy
was dedicated to you
I only fear
because my past suspicions came true
Your worst nightmare
is now unmistakebly real,
touch it.

What thoughts I have of you tonight?
Yesterday night, tomorrow night?
Wednesday night, Friday night?
My thoughts are nothing but a fright

How cheap is my soul on flea-market of souvenirs?
Will get a broken penny, a shinny eye
Always more, never enough
A broken body, a bent heart?

A couple of hours away, a lie near
Number of minutes, word lies hidden
Doesnt matter, if far away of here
Hear me dear, while you are here?

I printed out America
I looked it up on youtube
And I lost it.

Where are you, America?
Did you hide under my communistically red bed sheets?
You’re not there

Are you the piece of paper under my ****?
No, that's another Ginsbergian poem full of soul and extra brilliant kindness.
Are you on my wall?
No, Baudelaire and Mayakovsky turn their heads in disagreement.

Are you one of the leafs in my room of poetry leaf fall?
Do you lie sublimely on my shelf along Nabokov and Turgenev?
Or are you the paper I left on the table in a rush?

Do you lie scrambled in my bin?
I know you never would
Or perhaps the wind took you away
And you forgot to wave?

America, I put my queer hands down in desperation.

Your jokes
Are dry as my mouth
When I have a joint
I dont like your house
Your mother is there, she doesnt like me.

You made me company before
But you got kicked out of the college
By a decan to whom you were a foe
You smoked marijuana, you got high and flew away

I miss you my friend,
You're a different person now
Guess that time came to an end
Never will we spred our wings again
I wish we could see the sky
with our red eyes
amen

All you people i love so much
I'm ready to rip my chest apart
You are indeed an interesting bunch
I did not deserve to have you in my life.

In only hurts when i tell
How insanely good you are
How much i want your life to turn out well
And you send me to insane asylum

I do not care for the rest,
But it does offend
When to you im nothing but a pest
Desposible waste

Words i want to speak no more
For the shallow sadness inside
With waves washes my woe
The sea of night
Moon shines so bright
Solace i seek tonight.

I'm tired of
loving, living
I want
a pool of poetry to swim in.

A song from something half-a-year ago
Reminded me of the way I felt
Every season is different to my heart
Autumn 2012
Would my poetry be concidered art?
This line is assault
Eat my heart
With pepper and salt
Make sure you cook it
thoroughly
Otherwise you'll get poisoned
by all the sentimentality.

Alike a dead dove
after the rain
The future is just as hopeless
and cold.
The regrets will stick
to the soles of your shoes
Will hide under your pillow, tie you up, wouldnt let you breathe
even for a minute
What tale will I hear from your
bed,
hands,
eyes
So honest and so far
away.

And now I can feel the Freedom on my skin

See it with my eyes

And fill my lungs with it.

It flows through my veins,

It’s the scent of every flower.

I bear my hate to you

Like a child

In a womb of hurt feelings

And pretendious lies.

I met a girl,

At first glance she was nothing special

But after half a bottle of *****

I saw her real beauty.

Her perfect skin and big dark eyes,

Her tender lips and rosy cheeks

The way she sat and the way she talked

And the day she ignored me the day after.

Hey you,

the one i like,

you’ve got a pretty soul.

Tell me,

is love only something that

pretty people

can produce?

I am

a poet

my soul

eager to the sky.

If I

tell how

I could rip myself open

and let the creatures fly out of my chest

be they eagles

be they Locusts

the meaning

will die.

As He said,

” thought once spoken

is untrue”

let me be silent

not speak at all

but explain myself

with kisses

on your

perfect skin.