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