generic thing (2000-)
epistomological
but there remains the question
of
where to put the question mark
it's pretty and illustrous
and melancholic, like a violin
like jealousy
like a wheelchair butterfly,
it transudes
a melon- or lemon-aroma
and in a clear and confident voice
and god sayeth:
'oh, yeah!'
(mighty conman
he is carefully absent-spirited
usually)
prescribed liver-saddener
sudatory suppository
urge is our will-smith
but it's a worse-smith
To Know.
it sits in dusty corners, walks in blue jeans, or eats in posh restaurants
the body is equally presumptuous in all its forms
what means it?
it's green wheat
it's a teeming swamp
it's suds in the ruts
it's a sty
with the experienced innocence of silk and lace
little red pen
and wallowing in post-cogital joy or blues
remind me not to go
economic circuit resistor
not weighed down by memory, knowledge, or perspectives
the majestic cripple-mill seems neither omnipotent
nor irreversible
it sure is a persistant prototype
this soiled-brown sandbox
and it reeks of a hyterical pressure to strive
but there's a psychological urathene to muffle it
defined against cats and dogs and odds
somewhere between nehru and netsuke
the soul of a pig, a goat and an ass floats
sometimes
raised on the career club of inner city parks
the jew, the gay, and the communist in us
the gypsy in me
and merrily unresponsive to imperatives
morsels, conglomerates, scales, and brokerages
it gives a tremendous leverages to a potential social application of banach-tarsky
so shove it, or annex it!
i take no more bad news
the poet as a beast
a box of matches and a pair of scissors in my pocket
they too enhance a growing expired reality
properly speaking
stuck in the freedom of liberty
we are each others' theoretical parachutists
is it a handicap relay race in the arena,
or the match-up of charity polo teams?
an agreeable nonsense anyhow
the animal is sad in me
titles animate blank pages
we chew our bohemian rice
and ideal ulcer thrives
in the depth of not-so-bleak housing estates
it's long haul, and wrong trousers
for those who know how to really rally
for factional undependence
pig-fish pox, if you ask me
now,
don't tempt me pretentious doubt!
open-minded
h: excuse me, can i ask you a question?
m: yes?!
h: have you heard of jesus christ?
m: yes, sorry, i'm not interested.
h: i'm selling these bibles you know ...
m: no, thanks.
h: and i can tell you about ...
m: no, sorry ...
h: oh, that's ok ... uhmm ...
m: bye.
h: yeah, i also have some very good quality pot if you are interested ...
tentative
gee up!
gee up, sterile sunset!
to the very end ...
those improbable trifles,
this complacent jeopardy,
our composite fates are unravelled in thick circadian strands
as if we were
praying SOLELY for the success of the prayer itself
resolutely
evidently
the pensive mood is passing,
and dispensive.
enviable fear of fear
cleverly proportioned
under a pomegranate tree
giddy tapwater-nymph rises
like a wavering moth
only polluted by middle-class elitism
always temporary waning,
relics and POWs,
self-righteous disintegration,
mark my words:
i am the fucking shyest
gropings
i'm backstroking with gentle panic
stillwater of prodigal ambitions
the baroque order is gone from my wine
groping for some last unnatural gestures
the need for control is a resilient sort
is to suffer from bouts of imaginary health
such stupid light illuminates the courtyard
i waive my indoctrination rights
untouched by civic pride
now it's a synchronized solo performance
along the lines of leo's messr pierre
in a similar league with mr gullie by cary
repetitive and tantalizing uncertainty
spiritual powdered water
it frustrates the undivisible periphary of attention
let's unregret it
once or many times
vinegar and wax
one doesn't feel that strongly about it
and don't assume its opposite to be preferable
you'd be asking yourself all the time 'just why'?
scathed or unscathed in the last diagnosis
life sleeps-by under the future of history
animal magic
in the scorching medley of glances and sunrays
personalities distort
under their softly foaming skins
it's a cold war
of silicon brain implants
and pretty little kolkhoz bodies
with a friendly twist of convergence and truce
beach bleached
hearts pound against the stones underneath
major breasts
very babe
tüchting cool and fairer than binding
the lightness
legally blinding
red bar
red
red-latex red
and against the backdrop of ermine
the masterrace masturbates
red
blood-shot eye red
the collective consciousness thins out
into an airy silver fog
red
red-lipstick red
and timid sexes advance, draw near
to the rhythm of slow chainsaws
red
bud-bled red
in the champagne queasy night
be it as it may
versus
two illusions i have; dreams and reality -
one size fits all -
and between them i hesitate,
the sickly summer is congenial.
visions and hair equally dishevelled -
one size fits all -
grandiose ordinary,
and styptic egalitarian.
circumstances take longer.
duties and proximity,
the slovenly events of the world circle around -
overgrown anticyclone.
our shadows stay behind even if we finally move -
one size fits all -
bureaucracy, hypocracy,
cups of spirits of salt.
etological
sickly spring
there's sand in the forest
and beyond,
golden brown,
sleepless-sleepy river flows by
whirlpools play among the sandbars and peninsulas
green and dry memories of inundation everywhere
by the steep riverbank
rare hours,
unknown droplets and mosquitoes thin the air
laughter rings like the brightness of the sun
dobbermans and kids play, run,
splash around in the water
the white buttcheeks of teenage mothers
untamed and untanned
we behave,
the human animal,
and play with balls and beads and sand
as the circumstances dictate
unclean
noch einmal
my step-priest
your disco accidents
it's 108 hours of the esoteric
an unfolding confutation of time
we dilute, pupils dilate, structures amortize
pure off-limit and roundabout ways
they form the loose fabric of moral siesta
orange blots sift and stifle the night
is that a louse or a cicada?
attractive scars of normalcy
no doubt,
such is man depraved
by the heavy vapours of congenital romanticism
vexing and sulking
and in the butterfly-house of nerves
solipsism multiplies.
we are, and it is great to be told daily
the think tanks think they see no dystopian signs
keine problem
... and life just goes on ...
ladies and gentlemen,
the prosecution rests
can i interest you in some poetry?
they say it's good for the soul
ladies and gentlemen,
welcome to my circus
you have in front of you a first class observant autist
you can sing me a song
and i'll buy me a pony
ladies and gentlemen,
welcome to my jungle
don't let my ramblings upset you
to get the better of me, i will let you
it's only a shout in the dark, a snuff song
ladies and gentlemen,
members of the audience,
do you like my improvisation?
there's more of it, there's more to come
can i interest you in some poverty?
ladies and gentlemen,
i stand erect and corrected
neo-mythical
graphic & visceral
to cater to the window shopper,
to hide the mundane,
to excite the anemic senses that flow
in the office-estranged minds.
there is a new sociologist-approved hedonism for all of us,
a prolific visual philosophy
against this unidentifiable drought;
the half-aware love-scavangers are an easy target
for the purveyor of images,
for the propriator of a brothel.
for media is the massage,
an acupuncture directly into the brain
to facilitate the march of hormones in our parallel bodies
and to keep them so, straight and parallel.
the display is vaguely organic and colorfully artificial
and revolving on a well-lit shiny podium,
so feel the vertigo,
feel the anatomy of it all,
and note that according to some,
according to the smiley pleasure-merchants,
through this conceptual anaesthesy we are
redeemed
education
i remember watching
a tv program about the japanese
education system.
the teacher
stood in front of the class and asked
the pupils (about third-graders)
to repeat after her:
"we are like the germans,"
the kids repeated:
"we are like the germans,"
she continued:
"we have no sense of humour."
and followed the reverent echo from the students:
"we have no sense of humour."
enforme
well now, did i drop it or did i pick it up?
the routine sentimentality of no surprise
the feeling hangs like a nautical arabesque
basically
it's the garden of yellow, purple, orange and pink
and the digital birth water flows
king south
bring on the next one!
medium-hot logic
to integrate, to segregate
the blue ceramic tiles are uniformly unique
what does it all mean?
irreversible documentary
the caravan pushes on
the blatant sensuality of lavender and meat
i take two more of that.
upright and downright
very bad things,
the only vertical elevator,
the five mothers,
where is the end of it?
pejorative white entropy
lapses of dyslexic silence
to no avail
turn the screw,
turn a trick or two
and in the mountain wood of miscellaneous farewells
like bamboo grows
so are we saved from grace
isthmus
is this supposed to be here like an intelligence test or sg?
in the awkward lapdance through life
the temptation is as great as it is vile
to freeze-dry any old smile
unable to solve or to forget the question
whether the celestial distances to contemplate
or to pile worldly pleasures up on our plate
we cringe and clench and cling
to values fictitious and dark
with words like frog bark
with our performance the universe we fascinate:
who's behind the shrewdly disconcerted honesty,
behind the reserved and hostile modesty?
affected and sedated little selves drool,
with our performance the universe we fascinate,
at the tits of this slot machine we suck and pull;
we win, curse, lose and call it fate.
etymological
dog eat and dog and no means no,
and gingerly we sat down
those of us
under its fine double umrella
those of us
under the pine-resin aroma of its shade
the big sort-out
we qualify
we migrate
across meadows of balanced and full-grown eventualities
original magenta
the meager powers of comprehension
gradually nonplussed
ordain derives from ordinary
i would like to find out more!
morbid derives from obligations
i would like to find out more about ...
we impersonate lawyerboys, infidel spinsters,
and middle-aged campaign managers
give us our daily commute!
sucking on my saliva
i would like to find out more about ...
you
cordoba and cello
cordoba or cello
it's the same familiar love
she waiste-deep in the sea and playing bach
or some idle tourist gaze getting lost in honeycomb muqarnas
the images still the heart
we are the same valiant idiot savant
bladder and a soft peck
on the cheek, a sisterly act,
a smacker
then safety pin closes, letting off
a tiny cloud of rust, the cramp
sharp
stainless steel energy
younger sisters of filial absolution
the stoic & sceptic's heart
steeped in custard and cream solution
in laboratory pollution
red and white iv of love
how should i praise you, cordoba days?
you are dissolved in your own fathomless heat
in your lines of kufic script, in your maze of mosaics
or it's a summer glass house of poor acoustics
with a storm playing outside and a concerto in-
side, it's the same love, the same familiar labyrinth
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