and i

sitting down tense
in the dark night chair
don´t creak !
don´t wake him !
strive to breathe silently !
and i, my old sheet stained with salt, sperm, green seawater
taut like a force 8 is blowing
creaking, groaning, cracking
just holding
despite patches, compromises and rough repairs
my heart drumming
on the taut animal skin
it won´t last for ever

heart and a voice

i wish you that the voice reaches you through the lines, rulings, organisations, the winds screeching their beliefs, through industrial disasters, blighted lives, cor blimey trousers, televised horrors, revolving glass, dervish skyscrapers reflecting sexual desires, the predators with their apex cards, staring ambiguously at their slaves, and through those perversions prowling your night's mind. your heart that you have from your mother is no servant, no, no, quite the opposite. i wish you because you are born of woman and to spite the layers, the cultured drapes, clinging, seared into your skin, despite your brain wound as a massive industrial generator, its parts heat stamped with serial numbers, its coils and the thick honeyed epoxy, its moveable and stationary components, slopping around in acid baths, the stench of the seals and the burning tyres. your mouth may well be mouthing cruddy texts from the long gone, from talkers whose utterances chanced to stick on the wall o' tears, the singers, the judges and every ordinary human idiot who walked this little earth, scratching a micron off the surface before it's carelessly wiped away by rearranging nature, by the great mass murderer, the messenger without a message.
i wish me or you or someone or anyone that a voice sounds which you hear with your heart of different ages, the heart you have from your mamma, as you are born of woman, a voice : child, everything will be fine.

a bench and a table

it´s time
sitting here on a long hard wooden bench
sitting alone
to say
i don´t care
life is good

the monarchist

he drinks imperial tea
out of deferential christian crockery
smokes cheap cancer
grunts his armchair assent
to the greater glory
of king and country
adjusts his trousers and laughs silently
daydreaming of riding in her country
of his cock filling her sweet suck mouth
with lovely warm salty spurts
he squints at the exploits
represented in the paper
winces when reprimanded
second grade fodder
self not really there

zurich

the only thing approaching alive here are
the bayer boys and girls
their dogs faithful on leashes
one urgently licking the face of his charge
who´s lying blissed out on the railway track

beyond the stinging nettles
evergreens stand soft in the distance
snow at their feet
i greet their appetite for revenge
they will kill silently, with maximum force

the days tick by and people nod
in this dead land
pretending and play-acting.
dead capital festers
the light of life is directed down a strict grid
perverted into a stench
foul and unwholesome

my heart´s blues

the heart that i have from my mother
my heart of different ages
an ice wind blows through me
my cogs don´t engage
and the motor doesn´t fire up
time hangs like fog on the air
what is and what should have been
diverge

trooping the colour

i wrote your name on my ensign
in a thousand dreams, letters and poems
i wish to write it on my tombstone
what stupidness !
it´s neither what you want
nor what makes me happy.

AND

no dalembries for me, no coffee, no cakes, no whisky, no cocaine, no colours, no smells, no nothing. just a little hole in my heart, just a little hole in my head. a few whisps of melody, a few more moans and groans may yet escape my event horizon before the heaviness gets too heavy. you stand alone, son, said the texan, not even language is with you

it´s always nice to be ...

somewhat stubby fingers
still sex smelling
take the pencil to write
she sucks her thumb
and the sea molecules
go to her head
as she joyfully chooses
a fitting circumlocution

it is written

and she felt the cock jumping
and she knew it was his cock
and she knew it was the end of the world

AWOL

i don´t know why
you´re sometimes so good to me
i´m so loaded
all the time
and you see something else
of course you´re right
but i cannot get to that place

my head seems to be killing me
that´s stupid and dangerous
i should take care

many many years ago
made an emotional miscalculation
chose the absentee life
there are precious few roads back

yes, i love you

between

take a sheet of paper
and rip it in half
that´s me

as my blood keeps pumping through the station
my pulse screeching
my thoughts overloading

don´t be stupid
she said
stop that noise

i know, i know
i look at the trees and grasses
four in the morning
sepulchral
emptied of colour

getting older

you say
it doesn´t interest you
to hear in tremulous detail
that i am just a man child
why ? doesn´t it concern you ?
you say
we are all composites
of the real and the learnt
of me and them
such slippery slopes
are only good for skating
i nod in some sort of agreement

a question

i show her my pictures
i put my self in her hands, her eyes
why do i surrender myself so ?
do i think that´s the only way to exist
to be seen ?
i mean, i breathe, don´t i ?

walk in my forest

a dry leaf on the ground
its keel broken
some ribs revealed
where the flesh has been gnawed away
crackles when trod upon
let us build a castle of skulls
i am happy
and this is not an ironic juxtaposition
i look, i see
one day i will die

seawater

i take the catamaran bus
over slow gray seas
crossing murky paths of reflected sunlight
i think of the sway of her breasts
my lips, my kisses
my kitsch
fat gulls sit solo on moored boats
you´re on your own now boy
with the knowledge of good and evil

up until now guilt

up until now guilt
once triggered
would spread through me
right or wrong
staining my whole life
and now
it´s time
to count more carefully
to eat from the tree of knowledge
of good and evil
to be happy
when it is time for happiness
and to cry
when needs must

untitled

it just wiped me out
don´t know how or why
my head went under
feelings of failure
nostalgia
kitsch dreams of the Father
tides rolling above
i heard nothing
i saw nothing
except the accretion of the past

now slowly, strangely
i´m coming up for air

funeral parlour

looking at the medieval knight
LSD making his closed eyes translucent
he doesn´t speak
the fluffy little dog yapping
calling the other pups
squabbling , balancing on a trestle
the ship does get in
some cargo unloaded

and

and the voice of sexual repression
crashes through
i am nothing
i am empty

and the sperm-soaked dreams
tits, nipples, a thin white bra, kisses
pumping, shouting, the swing of her breasts
their gorgeous cunts
are edited out

and the cambridge philosophers
whips between their teeth
imperiously demanding stringent logic
squatting flies, treading on ants
pushing the button at the abbatoir
watching the bolt kill the cow
behind smeary glass
they dismiss me

and i am empty, am nothing
they drink wine, arguing excitedly
jockeying, joking

and i repeat
i am empty
i am nothing
and i repeat the mantra
to undermine it

a wish

i wish
she were pallas athene
coming to aide and succor me
when my steps falter
yet it´s probably better
that she isn´t

solo

on the bed of the sea
midst the debris of nature´s manifold passages
i have occupied a shell
there i brood
lumbering out ever so seldom
to snatch a morsel
sex food love
and gobble it up

and it´s very dark here
voices
mamma´s call
the kids playing ball
wanting me to join in
that doesn´t reach my ears
except transcribed, redacted
translated, sublimated
into blips
in the signal
in the noise
of the darkness

missing the train

after,
he opened his mouth to confess his weakness
but no, she said
you´re wrong, it´s not like that at all.
we´ve just loved
he thought
i shouldn´t be snivelling
he gathered up his feelings
put his clothes on
and left shortly after

growing up

between love and hate
longing for love and hating the hatred
yearning for something which may be pure illusion
shot through with west european culture
yearning for something i do not know
crying over spilt milk

a search light

looking at myself through your eyes
i am nervous
do i act right
how do you see me,judge me ?

i believe i can see me
through your eyes
ridiculous !

i`ll throw myself
into a dark pool
try to feel,to be

it is sliding past me
i am too careless
too ambiguous towards
my own life

i am one of those
who doesn`t know
what life is really worth

A THURSDAY

i have read all the books
all the particulariites
i`ve seen all the films
fast,flashy,slow,moody
all the travellers
the strict,the sexy,the unattractive
some spaced out,some stressed up
others full of esoteric softness
i met sportsmen and wide boys
i spoke with bill clinton
i know the dark alleyways
the crackpipes, the whiskey bottles
the exertions of the contractors
the earnestness of the auditors
the police officers stone drunk who altered the accident reports to save their skins ( everyone knew )
girls giggling and the women cohabiting
the sweat and the scents
taut facial muscles
sexual abandon
the samaritans aand their druggies
hope,hypocrisy,moral ambiiguity,forgetfulness,distortion,propaganda,
cultural differences and achievements
war
grenades and machine guns
my ears have heard bum notes grating
i know lists,symbols
the cracking paint
fuck me ! the youngsters out of their boxes staggering on the platform
the carpenter planing the boards
i know of sickness
the blotched skin
the sap seeping out
the plump older women travelling
their men walking stiffly
tics,moustaches,sports shirts
i know psychosexual ecstasy
the yes and the no

today is gray, white-gray
and nothing reaches me
i know full well torture and torment could come
i know of no resolution
yes, my brother, my sister, my stranger,
i stand alone

the sea

a big wave got me within a dozen yards of the shore
i wanted to run through the water on to the sand
but the undertow immobilized my legs
hundreds of small pebbles streaming back over my feet
i turned to see the build-up of the next big wave
the fly, sticking to sudden threads, watches the spider approaching
the sea can be mean and very nasty

these days

i stumble onwards
from day to night
thinking of neurotic compulsions
mine disguised as earthy love
riverbeds and marshlands, harsh continuous rain
the full green fields, the swing of your breasts
yes, your breasts and your kisses

the crowds inside my head
shoving and scuffling
this way
that
forwards
to the left
retreat and regroup
be political
retake the highlands
use your prick
see with other ideas
go with the crash of the waves
use, abuse, seduce

the sea and the rolling waves

the whole truth, and nothing but the truth

i suppose i think that

one day

the curtain will be pulled aside

and you

will tell me the truth about it all

the truth

about the world, as it really is,

what you felt

then and then, and what in fact happened.

i will sit

on the floor with my head between your legs

a thirsty kitten

i´ll lap up the truth, the actual truth.

the knowledge

that there are no contours, no lifebelts,

that there´s no final assessment,

no last word

is beyond me.

HUMPH

i was stupid enough to read her diary:
what a big baby he is !
and thinks he´s the only male in the world !
Ok, nice to have someone who always wants to fuck with me
but what a price i pay !
and he´s really no great shakes in that department
i think i´ll put some space between him and me

i put the diary down  and returned to my room
so, i´m not her god
logical really
i mean if i
don´t think i´m a god
why on earth should she ?
dispiriting all the same

my cookie crumbles

about my plans, intentions and resolutions
to leave you
to set myself free.
well
you held the kitchen door open for me
my eyes took in
your carelessly buttoned blouse
breasts half revealed
and desire locked me in
again

forgetful and careless

a poison arrow pierces my skin:
you´re a cypher hiding stupidity
you´re a headless, heartless servant
a stinking bucket of broken eggs
compromised through and through

my stomach turns
again
i must remember to stock up on the antidote

my accumulated feelings
locked in moral conflict
with the inner executioner
mesmerises me
help !
where´s mummy ? jesus ? daddy ?
help me !
must i really stand frozen
the lifelong prisoner
my love of wisdom too shallow ?
no, no and three times no !

on call

the pits of my stomach are adjusting to being awake
o god save me, daddy, mummy, help!
set my world to rights
´cos i can´t
and somebody should
i´m just maladjusted words and irregular breaths
if only i can get my pepsins in order
before i´m called !

7:20 P.M.

she sits in an armchair
i walk over
and sit on her knees
run my fingers up inside her t-shirt
hold both breasts in my hands
kiss her.
heaven !

a piece

not very important
sad but true
i only make connections
by means of the back door
a human bean who didn´t make the grade
a broken twig
a pretender, undecided
a don´t know
connecting by means of a specified set of smells, sights, chemicals, dreams, longings
irregularly and then
tant pis !
cut off from the sap

saturday

night
rain
emergency ward
waiting
i solo
attention fixed on the door
two armenians talking low
a distraught woman
with her sister, three nieces, a neighbour, her daughters, a cousin, husband
they fetch her a bottle of water and a paper handkerchief

outside briefly for air
ambulance lights still flashing
i stand close to nine young men
sharp suits, smart shaves
talking football, money, god, cars, illness
smoking cigarettes
the centre shifts a few paces away from me

the brothers i will never have
i solo
my longing drives straight through me

empty, fragile
running on empty

january 17th

when the need is so great
but not reciprocal
worlds comes crashing down

i remember
waiting for the towns to crumble
waiting for the cities to fall

i´m on this plane
feeling bad
searching my heart
for images to pull me through

overwhelmed by my own words
savaged and mauled
as when the pet tiger
one day remembers her nature

i pull the curtain aside
it´s not the words hurting
it´s the hurt

another take

who is this stupid boy ?
with his graying hair
his hangdog eyes
cold, miserable
and his lines set so weary ?

i turn away from the mirror
that doesn't cut it either

nothing is revealed

at this cold
with breath whisked away white
toes calling out for warmth.
seeking the half shelter of the roofed buildings,
i clean out my head house
i’m trying to order my mental disc

who am i ?
what shall i do ?

where do we go from here
me and my names ?

a crane standing out against gray and purple skies
its long chain swinging slow heavy in the air
such chance sights bring me nothing