what do they want from her?
(she wants to know)
her love-her underware-
fame´s crow-

i thought it would be
all different somehow
i don´t know..
an enlightenment

a star´s shadow-
but soon become a
barred window..
-a villa up the river..

ii

and then there is power
every move a micro  scope
but the big picture
fun for a monster

that´s the dope-
do you know what i pay
my lawyer?
you could feed africa..

iii

i want to give it all away!
some plastic surgeon
(look like a gudgeon-)
go beg..

dissilussion(x2)..!and
what ABOUT her
new slim volume and
her address at the woman´s

institute on friday..
she would n´t like to
disappoint them..
'careful what we wish for...'

i

she has a stalker?
i don´t know when does
romantic interest become

alighting a passing tree
cawing and writing love
epistles..

for a court to decide?
we live in a litigious society-
half the world is mad

and wants to be called mad
so they can sue..
what to do..

ii

words lily-life
or death
simple or not..

the first put to the sword
and replace by the
same again..

i

what are we?
(that is what she wants
to know..)

identity,is the crisis,
can´t you see?
-we are the past

and future..
don´t cry,lily,
(all crimes are paid..)

are you afraid?
-dying is hard
when the sun shines

and the birds sing
happily in
the trees..

ii

there is the major
and minor
the micro and
hows your father..

eat the hamburger
and take care of each other
o officer dibble-
mandible..

iii

she is spaced as cake
(no time for hate)
running around in her
docs alone..

a knock upon the door
stops her dead
who is there
fear unkown..

i


the dreaded white!
cold as gold
bold as betrayal
miserable ..!

expectant and silent
nowwhat..?
some miserable diatribe
on unrequited love?

how much better is
pea-*******..
the cat poe
who knows..?

ii

the life of the poet
(take off the t)
if a women lies naked
at your feet..

if the rain and wind
break your heart
if a song is only part-
a wart..

the witch and her
proboscis-the mosh pit,
o try to forget!
the way she´d hold her

pint..glance back at the dew
on the spider´s web
o the way.. the way..
the way young lover´s do..

iii

if i played a tune
perhaps i might sleep
but i am musical as
an incontinent sheep-

the way she sung in
the bath..identity, is the crisis
can´t you see-
little things like sledgehammers..

iv

she turns a page-
wolfe like a memory
or dream
paris and monmarte

generosity..
fun all the rage..
hey,what are we
that´s what i want to know..