buzz shake buzz shake buzz. oh and jitter

poetry

restitution is something
i make not because i ever
felt anything was broken

rather offered from a sense
of obligation

but then i remember
as a friend you were alright
but as with the pack of
mmm… skittles
i am devouring at the moment

you always let me down
like a good sugar high

what kind of monster am i?

poetry

all the times i’ve cleaned
this mirror still the monster
is there vomiting his orphan
words
crying
as am i
this has got to go away
like cell phone rings that
never rang or waking up from
dreams mid-drive
leaving
town
trying to become an ant by
pill or smoke or shrinking
machine
i could lift my own weight
and many times more
not be such a monster
with a hunched back under
the weight of all the
miles i can’t ever reach
or with eyes
so large
making
the
villigers flee
seeing them run away
for minutes, and understanding
why
what kind
of monster am i?

The Bus

poetry

Don’t look my way

It’s too early in the day,

Your soul is not tucked in yet.

Romeo coughs at the back of the bus

Here comes tuberculosis.

An old Juliet shouts repeatedly to herself

“Shut up! Yes God I know. I know. Shut up!”

Dorian, the unaltered beauty, sneers

Give the lepers their bells back

So they can sing their melody again:

“Unclean, unclean, unclean…”

Jane scratches her invisibility cloak

blood under her fingernail is the same

ghastly red as the “Stop requested” sign.

The metallic box spits two people out

While Tarzan bites his nails thinking

“I hate my mother. Does it me make evil?”

Inside the bus, one happy thought lingers,

“At least I’m not suicidal…”

And outside, it’s better to hate God than your mother

Otherwise, you better have tales that would make God vomit

and reconsider his creation.

tiny violins for my fake friends

poetry

real friends don’t play pretend
and make ammends if they offend
surely with no intent
to damage you but by accident
and real friends are by your side
would never lie
or leave you dry
or let you die
but real friends do not exists
like unicorns and sentiments
like aliens in rocket ships
but much much more like sentiments

Hide your daughters, Bluebeard is back in town looking for a new wife

poetry

I’m back,

I’m back

from that place

disgustingly green

where hope drizzles reluctantly from the sky

“Will I see the tall city towers once more?

To all that is and ever existing,

Let me gently lay my head on the winter’s bosom

Let me breathe in the urban fumes,

I swear I’ll not dance la bostella again,”

those were my thoughts and wishes while still captive

in the most horrid and colorful place on earth, where beauty

and ugliness mesh too well that only a faint pain remained

after finding a saint half-smiling in hell.

translation anybody?

poetry

Nolite esse, Anime virorum malorum
et feminarum malarum.

Milites DEI volabit
et proelia vulnerabunt malos
telis potentibus.

Mare ignis hostes DEI convocabit
et mors pro miseros erit…

Spirit of Evil Men and of
Evil Women, do not be!

The soldiers of God will fly,
and battles will wound evil
with powerful weapons!

The Sea of Fire will summon the enemies of God
and death will be before the wretched…