my country

behind her skirts
a babe in the midst of bull rushes
hiding behind the girls hoola-hooping
trying not to get my clothes grubby
is it luxury to feel four years old ?
a crime?
irrelevant to the matter at hand ?
the festival of the judges is a riot of colours, styles, weapons, cults
machine gun pronouncements, slipshod hangings, sentences, barren wastes of time
i peer out through a crack to be nabbed by an unsteady moralist
who tells me to stand up and be counted
i scream
not my world
not my problem
i muff and swaddle myself wishing to be a hippo in his mud
a two year old with his bright yellow plastic ducks

declaration

i declare i am in the weeping woof of time sutton smack has cleared my mind totally of all possible thought palm trees, waterwheels a gaping hole in the wall of the dwelling a mawl that has been widened by a dull fire-hardened stick lists, experiences, i see nothing just running on empty

nothing more

is it true
that it all comes out in the wash
at the end of the day ?
when all are sad and dun ?
johnny screams : i can´t wait that long
wait or not, is her response
the measured steps of time
follow one another like days and years
all i want
he gritting his teeth, suppliant, defiant, stammering
is certainty
she says, you´re on your own now boy
like always
eat of the tree
look at the world, its smoke and mirrors
he hurls his glass against the wall
she : yes, feel your strength
and your weaknesses
there is nothing more

salt sea mamma

a motorboat along the line
between sea and sky
sun sprinkles silver and white
into a murky green sea
waves riding in eagerly

had too much of numbers, taxes, calculation, equity,
balance sheets, distribution, cheques, payments, percentages, loans, rates

i unclasp her bra
baby seal, my head bobbing
mouth finds the nipple
salt sea mamma will suckle me
and all will turn to the best

walking, running

i walk through a department store
in this mediterranean tourist town
rows upon rows upon rows
of household appliances
easter island faces staring at the sea
burners, hairdryers
polished voodoo
shimmering monsters
in croydon county court
a lawyer pleads for clemency
citing a moment of madness
tho´ i hate and fear these young men
i know and feel it too

time change

mamma !
the sudden call
breaks through quiet folds of sleep
the helper shifts from low-state introspection
to alert
to read and follow signs slewed by illness

time is the mystery
time, rhythm, mystery
a piebald piper am i
sitting by the atlantic
watching wave upon wave
trying to comprehend
to cut through the pinball overlay
the bells, the shrieks, the moralists running berserk
to get to where really is

help !

it´s 4 a.m.
hotel in zurich
cigarette smoke from the open window
outside, junkies transacting business
i wait
i am waiting for nothing
screaming
just to see without understanding
howling at the moon
o glorious shamash
o the heart that i have from my mamma
help me
please