The moth’s kiss, first!
Kiss me as if you made believe
You were not sure, this eve,
How my face, your flower, had pursed
Its petals up; so, here and there
You brush it, till I grow aware
Who wants me, and wide open I burst.

The bee’s kiss, now!
Kiss me as if you enter’d gay
My heart at some noonday,
A bud that dares not disallow
The claim, so all is rendered up,
And passively its shattered cup
Over your head to sleep I bow.

It wasn’t chance or accident that Walt found you it was destiny his genius needed a perfect
Form of expression and you were the one that met and exceeded all the requirements your
Favorite song to sing as a child was the hit Jonny Mercer song accentuate the positive little did
You know that you would not only sing it but be asked to live it and you did this as a true marvel
With grace and charm you said the Mickey Mouse club was a slightly better version that what
America really was then you went on to say that America even is gone forever but in the
Encroaching darkness you carried the fragile lamp of purity and modesty it was the harking
Back to innocence so precious and held in such reverence the rock songs were about young
Love holding hands in the silver moonlight carried along on a river of dreams infatuation it
Showed in that special time of being a teenager not a child but not an adult it was the ultimate
Carefree high that didn’t mean you were ****** you were just grooving hot rods and babes
That Knocked your socks off you wondered around in a stupor all you could think was how
Could anyone be so fabulous maybe they made those clothes out of magic cloth and thread
Sweaters white blouses poodle skirts or not bobby socks and black patent leather shoes sock
Hops Friday afternoon in this reality freedom was the it word fast cars girls were cool may I say
Winsome and not be booed all you wanted was to be with them get to know them they were
Exciting they were worthwhile and they sent you tripping cherry cokes was the drink no one
Ever made a fool out of themselves that came natural when you would stick your foot in your
Mouth trying to be cool and that even played out in a sweet way no one looked better than
When they flubbed it trying to impress someone you did get favorable points back then and
Annette ruled as a queen in many minds and even today she’s gone but her light continues to
Shine down through the years it is carried in the most beautiful laughter and character started
On Disney’s lot but wowed far beyond after the mouse ears were laid down it came with a rush
On California beaches youth was right where it needed to be in the forefront because it only
Last For a seemingly brief summer and though it floats back in time again you’re only on that
Beam of Light and fully on and with it for magical moments we close our eyes in quiet respect
For a time and a special one who was and is unforgettable

A cool small evening shrunk to a dog bark and the clank of a bucket -
And you listening.
A spider's web, tense for the dew's touch.
A pail lifted, still and brimming - mirror
To tempt a first star to a tremor.

Cows are going home in the lane there, looping the hedges with their warm
wreaths of breath -
A dark river of blood, many boulders,
Balancing unspilled milk.
'Moon!' you cry suddenly, 'Moon! Moon!'

The moon has stepped back like an artist gazing amazed at a work
That points at him amazed.

when I look back now

at the abuse I took from

her

I feel shame that I was so

innocent,

but I must say

she did match me drink for

drink,

and I realized that her life

her feelings for things

had been ruined

along the way

and that I was no mare than a

temporary

companion;

she was ten years older

and mortally hurt by the past

and the present;

she treated me badly:

desertion, other

men;

she brought me immense

pain,

continually;

she lied, stole;

there was desertion,

other men,

yet we had our moments; and

our little soap opera ended

with her in a coma

in the hospital,

and I sat at her bed

for hours

talking to her,

and then she opened her eyes

and saw me:

"I knew it would be you,"

she said.

then hse closed her

eyes.


the next day she was

dead.


I drank alone

for two years

after that.

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

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

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!

Motto: „ they are all elsewhere/ examining things/ in new bedrooms/” – Charles Bukowski – Praying for rainy days

**** Bukowski
thinks that’s a supraestimated fake
for townsends of years
„ harder than The Riots of Watts”
and it’s not about *****

it’s too precoius and delicate
and it’s not about women
'couse the women *** with roses
or with the spine-birds
and still gets payed on the job

it’s all about poetry
it’s about that funny slaughterhouse
in wich we kick eachothers stupide ***
like some real lovers
and then we rearange our underwear
or what’s left of it

it’s all about  a load of **** good to be throwned at the garbage
'couse – don't mention it – there is nothing heroical
and every ****** thing is a makeup
there is just a mouse shiverring in a corner
two ugly frogs are hugging all what is left of the sun
and above all
the monkey is trying hard to improvise a tired smile

**** Bukowski
I don't know a living soul with such a perseveration
to ****-up his poems
like his money on horse-races
like his fat’n’ugly mexican ******
and still somehow to become his own hero
insane like this
born into this
and becouse he had lived to much like a dog

alone with the whole world
with it’s ******* **** beauty
in wich actualy nobudy finds his mate

in wich everything it’s just a canibalistic clown
and a childish cry
almoust painfully dead
from his own laughter