blow by blow

blow by tattered blow,
speaking slowly
chameleon moves
here and there in spacetime
was is could be why not wasn´t shouldn´t couldn´t
don´t or do !

seven

now we are seven
years ?
no, months
and she left me in the hole
she left me with the onions

how it is

you pays your money
you get some beer
you turn to the left
and the cops are still right behind you
you found ecstatic moments
keep looking, only you have eyes

no-one there

Mark left a tape he had recorded.
It was labelled " my last bugle call" and consisted of white noise and the creaking of an armchair. DNA tests revealed traces of his sperm on the tape.

lord have mercy on his modern soul !

he left his droppings hidden here and there and then assumed and expected that later someone would examine them and pass judgement over him. he visualised the scientific moustache and the steel rimmed glasses. that is the concern of the historians and biographers - NOT HIS BUSINESS !
in short he did not define himself, he was too anxious, too irresolute and too indolent

yes

yes, he saw the photos
her naked breasts, the strange look on her face
and once again,
his precepts forgotten,
he threw himself into the vortex of desire
why ?
and why not ?
as the fire tears through the bush

right and wrong

Lost in right and wrong.
He said, son that´s not right.
Since then I`m all wrong :
the good, the bad, the right, the wrong
and I stand here screaming.