A dusky jewel,
with wings to fly;
The only jewel in a spangled sky.

A scent danced past, through the air:
The fragrance of your pretty hair;
Redfireorange, wild as smoke,
As trippy as a sniff of coke.

On human evolution

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Sickness, and dysfunction

I felt you
Wrap yourself around sickness
A sickness better than any dysfunction I could offer you.
It was, of course, a trick of the light,
An empty, degraded vision in my mind.
But, free as you are, and bound as I am,
All is possible.

Funny, really, how satisfaction is to man,
As brain is to a donkey.

I told myself, "pull yourself together,
It's all good.
It's all fan-tas-tic."

Fan-tas-tic.
Fantas-tick-tock-tick.

Is it?

You write it down, lest you forget.

Sink

Duality

Despite

It was a nightshademorning.
We sat huddled together
Against a coffeeblue backdrop;
Condoning the cold in sleepysilentwhispers.
Shadows shivershuffled past us,
Bitch-tits swinging in the wind.

And yet, I paid no attention.
For I was warm,
From the heat of your lips.

Pale green eyes

Raining leaves, in shades of red:
A dying autumn has sparked and spread.
And in the presence of amber skies,
I saw a smile, and pretty eyes.
Pretty eyes, in shades of green:
Pale,
And dreamy,
And dead serene.

Open your eyes

Wake up, stranger, and witness well:
Your future does the sea fortell
Swing, you will, (believe in me)
On the spiral of your galaxy
Like a bird of prey in flawless flight
Come see your world in black and white
Embrace, you will, the skies above
In the reddestrush of strangest love
In the blackesthole of your own desire
Twist your spark into a fire
Push, you will, across, beyond
Your mind is but your magic wand
Screwed, you are, if you close your brain
Feel, stranger, go insane!
Screwed, you are, sucked straight in
The proof is in your crawling skin
Indeed, you are, just a verse
In a poem called The Universe.

Drink

I sat with you
On warm yellowgreen leaves
In the height of this fine autumn evening.
We had a bottle of fermented incoherence with us,
And you, shitfaced,
Licked your lips,
Folded your mind.

Because everyday,
Is saturday.

The whitest lie

Sipping coffee, rainy skies,
I think of freedom, and the whitest lies.
Whitest lies to help me hide,
Whitest lies, I confide.
And anger, hatred, sick and shame,
Shame, yes, and no one,
No one,
No one but I,
Am to blame.
No one but I, refusing helping hands,
Alone, and cold, in this darkest, darkest of lands.
Alone, and vacant, as gods above,
Love the comfort of drizzle-love.
Nowhere, really, for one to run,
Whitest lies twist everyone.
Mindsoulboggled, hearts inflate,
For the whitest lie, on a plate;
For us to feast on, to savour its taste:
Whitest lies don't go to waste.
Whitest lies feed the poor,
Whitest lies form folklore.
Whitest lies, for me, and you,
Turn us twisted black and blue.
Done, I am, with whitest lies,
Done, I am, with rainy skies.

Euphoria for sale:

Tranquil,
blue pill.

The thing we always blindly grope for in life is not love, but satisfaction.

Perverse

Stranger, stranger, on the wall
Bleeding like a waterfall
What now, will you stay for tea?
Shall we ramble on humanity?
Nailed, you are, as a decoration
Use you, I will, for masturbation.

Mockery

Let's take an evening walk,
And never come back
For a few days.

Confusion: a dire affair,
A part of my mind died in there.

There's a fucking weasel in my ticker.

A bottle full of apathy,
For the world, and me.

Shy, shy love.

It is a pity, and a crime, the way so-called unwritten wisdom keeps us apart, waiting.
But what is wisdom, but a belief? And what is belief, without a proof? And what is proof, but just another belief?

I miss my auburnafternoons,
And daydream trips to the moon.

And, wild nights of sweet, subtle delight.

Shy, shy love. Are we bent on being secrets forever?

At least, I know now that I exist.
At least, the sea keeps me alive.

A toast

Confusion : a dire affair.
And so I write with careful air:
Here's to you, I declare,
And here is to your scarlet hair;
And here's to the sleepysummerrain,
Here's to you, againandagain;
Here's to auburnafternoons,
And our own reflections on coffee spoons;
Here's to our wildest night,
And drunken caresses in drunken light;
Here's to infatuation, and daydreams galore,
And to empty bottles rolling blindly on your marble floor;
Here's to ashtrays overstuffed with cigarette ends,
Here's to compromise, to make amends;
Here's to faliure, and advice,
Here's to the beginning of enterprise;
Here's to you, I declare,
And here is to your scarlet hair.

A boy by the sea

All around me, witness the sea
An eternal shrine of serenity.
And swirls of smoke float away, high
Into the redrush of the scarlet sky.
And clouds overhead, calling to me
Birds fly by, daydreaming, free.
Conifers of peace, swaying and wise
In this universe, nothing dies.
Wind in my hair holds me ever so dear,
Whispering lovesongs into my ear.
And what are waves but lullabies of Nature?
And what am I, but Her caricature?
Looking above, I spot the sun
And in fiery glaze, I see Everyone.

***

Tonight,

I am sitting on a rock by the sea. And I am witnessing the most beautiful painting in the world. A cold summer sun drowns the silent ocean in a glamorous shade of gold. The soft waves lap at the sand around me. I feel...peaceful. Like as if, nothing matters. Like as if, I am one with the elements. There is a boat in the distance, its silhouette bobbing sleepily. Calm. Islands smile at me from far, far away. Seagulls beckon me to fly with them. There are rocks playing hide and seek with me, showing themselves, and disappearing into the water with happy giggles. My mind cannot help but wander off deep into the cradle of the scarlet clouds above me. A blissful dream. I feel like a new-born child, caressed by a caring, secret breeze whispering lullabies in my ear. I feel like every step I take from here will take me further away from everyone else. No hassles. No troubles. Just love, and beauty. And, simplicity. What more can one want from the world?

Ah, this feeling.
I never, ever want to forget this feeling. This feeling in my heart that seems to scream into the very bones of my body, saying, "You belong, brother. You belong."

End

Stuck

You can run,
But you can't hide.
And no one there
To confide;
Apart from me:
I am you.
Your universe is,
Black and blue.
And you cannot crawl
From your brain.
Indeed, you are
To me, insane.
No one to share
Your blacksky view
Alter-ego's
Watching you.

Blackout

Distant sun,
Silhouettes,
All the birds return to rest.
Night creeps in,
Silently,
Moonlight floods the eyes of prey.

Shivering,
In the cold,
A hermit's dark abode:
Man lies dying,
Soft and still,
The sun remembers his grave.

By the lake,
In his world,
A poet writes a verse:
Cuts it off,
Writes again;
Perfection seldom stays.

Images
In my head,
Insanity slowly spreads.
Wipe them off,
Can't be done;
A conflict with the mind.

Hands go stiff,
Pupils wide,
Feels so light and bright inside.
Rush of liquid,
Through my veins,
Planned a vacation from this world,

Goodbye.

To let go

It is when your sleep is a swirling auburnautumn leaf caught red-handed in the icebluebreeze, that you know you have stumbled upon solitude.

And nothing can be destroyed,
Because everything, everything is beautiful.

Centre within heart.
Heart within soul.
Soul within peace.

Breathe, Sal.

And let it go.

Till now, mankind has had only two revolutionary breakthroughs: the number Zero, and LSD.

Where are you?

In sane.

"Hello, doctor? No, well, I was wondering...is there such a thing as Herpes of the Elbow? Well I've got a number of scabby pustules on my elbow----I'm afraid I was a little too adventurous this weekend and elbowed my wife in the vagina. Oh, there isn't? What about Gonorrhea of the Nose?"

Cock?

Pussy!

Attempts to analyse a universe

Sometimes,
I have this urge
To hide myself from the galaxies in my brain.

To the Tuna Can in Front of Me

Dearest tuna can,

Do not whistle your tuna-esque tunes in my ear.
Because if you do,
I swear I'm going to
Snatch the tuna out of you.

Then you will be nothing but a
Sad,
Empty,
Can.

And, just when you think it is all over for you, just when your tunacan singsong voice is beginning to rust into oblivion, just when you are an inch closer to finally reaching intense fucking spiritual enlightenment after pining away for a million tunacan years, and just when you're not afraid of living a meaningless banana-peel life vegetating in my dustbin,

I'm going to recycle your ass.

It is strange
The way people are never satisfied.

Your eyes tell me that you are troubled.
That there is something wrong.

But, of course, it is nothing.

Of course, talk is not the answer.

Of course, despair is not the question.

Of course, you are alone.

Of course, you will be forgotten.

Of course, you will waste away.

But if I could,
If you want to,
If it makes you feel better,
I would trade adventures with you.
***

But of course, you wouldn't.

Musique

I pictured you flying
Late last night
But your wings were not in sight---
It was, in fact, a song you sang,
That lifted you into the sky.
Your feathers were a violin duet,
Your heart, a tabla.
Your spirit, a sitar.

Reflexion

Before I pine away.

On solitude

Excuse moi, if I may:
I saw you dancing yesterday
Like a bird of prey in flawless flight,
And I wonder if you'd dance tonight.
If you do, try and call;
I'll watch you by the waterfall.
That's all we need, to stay in place:
A poem and a pretty face.
And nothing matters, no need to brood
When you are set in solitude.

Note

Dear reader,


Yours obscurely,
The Author.

If you dare,

If you dare
Whisper a prayer,
From the comfort of your
Folding chair,
Don't call my name.
Listen, with care:
If you want to find me,
Remember my Ethereal Cathedral
Where shame is on a leash,
And thoughts are octahedral.

Half tone

Tonight

Tonight, in the chill of the summer, we are listening to Romeos and Juliets;
The men are drunk, the women are cranky,
And crying,
The girlthatusedtobe is stuck by herself outside in some cold, honky-tonk street,
And the children
The children are taking advantage.

Argh

Screw it, spew it.

Yuh.

The
Big
Red
Apple
Sat
On
The
Table.
I cut
The
Big
Red
Apple
In
Half
And
Ate
Its
Apple
Core.
It
Was
Delicious.

Opiate

Muse

Sometimes, on sleepysunnysummer days,
When Uncertainty and Hope come hand-in-hand,
Followed closely by crazed thoughts of love and happiness
In bum-like accuracy,
And it is impossible to not mull things over,
Helped by a shot of whiskey,
And -- l'inévitable -- cigarettes,
One begins to wonder:
For the sake of adventure,
You shouldn't ever know about the happy.

Me and my clan against the world:
Me and my family against my clan:
Me and my brother against my family:
Me against my brother.

Audience and Cast

To wander into endless dreams of laughter and inebriation, faraway lands and queens with guitars, grotesque mathematics teachers and horrendous exams, walks through twilight alleys and twitching in bed, lack of thought and overabundance of thought, a blood red swirling wave in an eternal blood red ocean with a pale grey sky above, waiting, watching, judging, listening --- and never even once speaking or making a comment, leaving one in perpetual suspense, mind screaming out and body aching all over for some kind of hopeful floating answer that never existed, some kind of clue or sign or at least an assuring voice that would whisper in my ear, “relax, everything is fine, everything is good.” The blood red sea rose in strangled curls, pulling me down, breaking me away from touching the pale grey sky---and I did not offer resistance. I will never offer resistance. I will submit, and trip on the moment, this very infinite moment for ever and ever. The universe is a moving picture, and I am sick and tired of being either a spectator or an actor. All that is happening around me and inside my head: talks of love and happiness, dead relatives, caught red-handed, herb and hiding, guilt and passion, anger and apathy, sickness and sobriety, freedom and fallacy, shock and surprise, friends and foes, party and parting---in the end, they don’t matter. I am stuck and struggling in the land of the Living Dead, and it is time I let go, wake up and learn to be both Audience and Cast.

Humanity

I remember once when I went down
To a sawdust pub outside of town
The air swirled with blue-green haze
With walls that remembered stranger days
And the barman poured out shots of piss
And eyeballs drank, their hearts amiss
And twisted whores, legs apart
Let their daddies hone their hearts
So that they may one blissful night
Meet a man, sharp and bright
While blood-soaked fetish chugs him on
Poor little whores, fucked, forlorn
And slouched on the floor, their lives in stains
Are junkies quietly spiking veins
Advised, you are, to speak not a word
For all that you say will be left unheard
Is this heaven, or insanity?
With faltering lives and disparity
Pushing us round a little room
Of whiskey and women and infectious gloom
And right in the corner two little girls
Their innocent eyes, glistening pearls
Fearful and alert, watching in pain
Something twitchy, slimy, pink: a brain
Writhing in glory on the cold-tiled floor
Like being screwed by Zeus forevermore
Or pushing a rock up a hill
And pushing and pushing and pushing until
Exhausted, confused, on the brink of insane
Enlightenment it does attain
And joining the brain, was, alas
An outsider, a stranger, a man from Mars
Who probed little children deep in their asses
As their parents emptied their glasses
And emptied and emptied, till they were drunk
And conscience fell with a little 'plunk!'
And everyone joined in for a fuck
An orgy with brains and lungs and muck
And God, he says, "You are my friends!"
Unknown to us what he intends
And this was it, brothers all
A sawdust pub where sawdusts fall
Like rain falling on insanity
Like you and me - and Humanity

Lament

Love is the beginning
And here we have a bond
A bond that lasts forever
Why don't we ever get along?
Spark becomes a flame
Flame becomes a fire
And then another blows it out
And erases your desires
Watch the weather change
My fragile mind, in flames
And then another blows it out
And who am I to blame?
And soon, I disappear
Away from your shadow
No more nestling in hollow shoulders
Run with me through meadows
Hiding with the flowers
Hiding all alone
Hiding for all our lives
Despair carved in stone
And suddenly, I wake up
And what do you intend?
Love is the beginning
And the inevitable end.

On stars

Imagine a green, green field under a blueblack sky bursting with euphoria and energy. Imagine you crashed next to me, like a falling star.

Imagine if we were all bright, shiny, falling stars. Imagine if we were celestial bodies; a chaos of constellations in chaotic cities: Siriuses on stage, comets on the highway, black holes in deserts, Mars on the battlefield, galaxies on dancefloors. We would run like mad children around the world looking from falling star to crashing comet and all the while drinking it all in and exploding with excitement, love, peace, energy---

And you, you would be my Venus, my evening star, and I would be your Galileo, the one who got to know you.

She was a fiery flashing comet-like creature with blazing comet-like eyes and nothing short of unexpected. She could make you lose your train of thought and forget about the world, and you'll end up looking like an idiot. She could very well make your heart skip beats, like a really horrible drummer. It's like being in a weird, wild, mysterious game where you can't ever win. She left me hanging in my mind, left me thinking thoughts such as "what the fuck" and "do I dare?"

Time to turn back and descend the stair.


What's up, man? Are you merely stricken blind and flabbergasted, or has your universe of concentric circles crashed down? And what do you do with a girl that trippy?

You trip, dumbass.
You trip.

I expected a lot, and got too much.

Idealism

We begin the chapter, with a kiss.

And then we part our ways, going through a mad steamrolling cheetah race as we laugh, cry, yell, brood, shudder, scream, love, hate, run, sleep, fuck, eat, drink, smoke the shit out of ourselves, experience the shit out of the world, love the shit out of the Universe like two wild whirling comets whizzing by the galaxy always parallel to each other but even then always bent on collision at a point that will eventually come and which you could call Destiny. And then we meet again, perhaps in Paris, where we share a joint together, and get high.

And end the chapter, with another kiss.

If

If I were you
And you were me
We'd write schizophrenic poetry.

Classroom

For I have neither wit, nor words, nor worth - I have neither intelligence nor the power of vocabulary - Action - I do not know what gestures to make when I deliver a speech - Utterance - meaning eloquence - Nor the power of speech - Nor rhetoric: r-h-e-t-o-r-i-c - To stir. To arouse...

I should be taking down notes. He'll catch me again. Fuck me up.
There's this dull feeling inside my mind that I don't really care at the moment. I know I'd care about it later when I'm giving my exams. I know I'm screwing with myself and my promotion. But, right now, I just can't give a damn.

...I only speak right on - I only speak straight from my heart. I only speak what I know. - If I was Brutus - If I had the eloquence. If I could speak like Brutus...If I was Brutus, and if Brutus was Anthony, Brutus, being a better orator, would've been able to stir up your spirits, make every wound on Caesar's body speak out so that even the stones - inanimate objects- that lie all over Rome would rise in rebellion against Brutus and Cassius. We will mutiny...

Words form colourful blurs and pass me in mocking tunes. I delve deeper into confusion. My mind - right now a vibrant and free electron left to join any atom it pleases to in an atomless world - wanders off into the foremost pocket of my bag. Cassete player.

...We will rebel. We will burn the house of Brutus - 1st citizen. I want you all to do something. Look at line 50. In line 50 the 1st citizen said "let's bring him triumphantly to his house." See how easily his mind has changed? - Why, friends, you got to do you know not what - You are going to do something but you are not aware of what you are going to do...

Play. Stop. Rewind. Play. Stop. Fast forward. Play. Stop. Rewind. Play.

Riders on the storm
Riders on the storm
Into this we're born
Into this world we're thrown
Like a dog without a bone and an actor out on loan
Riders on the storm...

...'Wherein-' What has Caesar done for you that you should love him so much? Alas, unfortunately, you do not know. You have forgotten the will! To every Roman citizen, Caesar gives - To every noble man - To every individual - 75 drachmas!

There's a killer on the road
His brain is squirming like a toad
Take a long holiday...

I could not muffle his voice with the music. But I had to continue. I had to open doors and let myself go. I had to trip.

...Let your children play
If you give this man a ride sweet family will die
Killer on the road
Yeah

His voice cut into my brain again.

...this is Shakespeare's mistake. Roman coins were called Denarius. Second citizen - oh, what a noble man he is! Antony -Moreover, he has left you all his walks - he has given you, or donated to you all the private places where he used to walk. His private altars - gardens...

Stop. Fast forward. Play.


This is the end
Beautiful friend
This is the end
My only friend
The end
Of our elaborate plans, the end
Of everything that stands, the end...

I sighed. This song takes me to a whole new level. It reminds me of everything and the end of everything that mattered. The end of innocence.

...On this side of Tiber: that is Rome. And for your heirs - your children - forever! All these are now pleasure grounds for common people. Here was a Caesar - this was a real Caesar. Where can you find another consul like him?

Can you picture what will be
So limitless and free
Desperately in need
Of some stranger's hand
In a desperate land..

The holy place was the Forum - Centre for all social, religious and business purposes...

I looked around. Everyone seemed engrossed, stuck. They listened intently. All I heard was an odd mixture of fired speeches and mystic words. And I tripped, and everything was alright.

...And with the brands - burning logs of wood - taken from the funeral pyre. They will set fire to the traitor's mansions...

Lost in a Roman wilderness of pain
And all the children are insane
All the children are insane
Waiting for the summer rain, yeah...

Pull down the benches! Pull down the forms! Windows! Anything!

The killer awoke before dawn...

These citizens are in a frenzy; they've been inspired by Antony, they want to kill the conspirators - every single one of them.

He put his boots on
He took a face
From the ancient gallery
And he walked on down the hall

They were like an angry mob, ready to lash out at anybody.

He went into the room where his sister lived and
Then he...
Paid a visit to his brother and
Then he...
He walked on down the hall and...
And he came to a door
And he looked inside...

Exuent Citizens, with the body.

Father? yes son. I want to kill you.
Mother?

Now let it work: Mischief- Ante - you are born. take whatever path that suits you!
Octavius has come to Caesar's palace. And there I shall visit him. He comes upon a wish. Fortune is merry, and in this mood will give us anything.

This is the end
Beautiful friend
This is the end
My only friend
The end
It hurts to set you free
Don't you ever follow me

The end of laughter and soft lies
The end of nights we tried to die...

And how I have influenced them
With my speech
I do beseech
To go against the murderers.

This is the end.