Tragedy

We laughed, we cried,
Side,
By side,
We danced, we danced; However---
The shine we held was thus expelled,
And she hid her face, forever.

I searched our cheers for years and years.
I searched, until today.
She was, perhaps, a dream, of sorts:
A dream that slunk away.

Starry-eyed

Wave goodbye to moments akin
Ferment the flesh of the fruit of sin
Sip it, now, with nonchalance
In death do I live my foreverdance.

Loop

I must have entered through the back-door, although it could have easily been the front, if I happened to looked at it that way, once, twice, thrice, or if all of us inside already chose to perceive it that way, but that was not the case, as the case may be, or must have been, and so I must have entered through the back-door, the black-door, the aging, deceased, forgotten minority of a door, even though there have been only two doors as far as I can remember, as the rest of the front and back-doors ceased to exist completely, like when you shut your eyes as tightly as possible till starshine seeps into that enveloping vacuum that floats, infinitely, infinitely, I wouldn't know, I don't know, I must have known, I must have entered through the back-door, I don't remember, I forget, I don't remember, I have forgotten all of you in the process of remembering where I have come from and how I came to be here, I have forgotten all of you for I grew fond, grew to be perhaps, perhaps too engrossed with myself, my hands, my feet, and the world around me from which you were to be rubbed off, erased, the world that I entered through the back-door, the black-door, the strong, silent, stone door, I have walked on oceans, yes, oceans deep and oceans wide, deep and wide I entered the back-door, the black-door, after which all of you were forgotten and the gaping hole that was left in my memory was filled with that back-door, that black-door, the door behind which stands a million-foot fall, I fell, I fell, I slipped away, through the back-door, the black-door, I don't think I will ever remember when we are.

A Letter of Apology To That Little Man Inside My Brain

Little man, speak;
For you have been silent for many nights
And I have made you wear silly smiles,
As you walked back,
Endlessly,
Back to your curious little cave-lair,
My head.

Little man, scream;
For you are very very angry with me,
I know,
And I would really really like to make it up to you.
Truly, honestly.

This time, we walk back together,
Endlessly,
Back to our curious little cave-lair,
My head.

Fucking Alcoholics

Wake up, wake up, little child,
And smile your toothy smile.
I have heard your calls through your little red window,
And I, I have decided to help you.
I have decided to help you
Fight the man-eating monsters under your bed.
That being said,
It will cost you a cookie,
And seventeen golden coins,
For each ghoul I slay.
And if streaks of treachery
Cross your mind even by an inch of hair,
I will sit you firmly on your chair.
And you will have to watch,
As I beat your pregnant mother with a bottle of scotch.

Call me Dad.

Agony

It was one of the brightestnights in his life and he lay on his green grass-bed blinking unblinking at the starry starry night-sky ceiling shimmering sleepily above him, like divine rosy cheeks of a white virgin goddess. He bid the world the softest of sighs, and closed his crescent-moon eyes. Inside, a massive pulsating void vast as the ocean and scarlet as the fiercest of fires engulfed his torso as he melted into a gleaming green stretch of deep-seated joy that was his happy little room. His jingling, shrieking box of kaleidoscopes. His dancing, singing, jingling, shrieking box of kaleidoscopes. His secret, silent trap-door. And yet if all was well and the world was shiny, then why, oh why so glum?

Poor child, he was colourblind. He was deaf. And he was alone, for his parents had passed away.

The end

Eugene

He woke up on a day like any other crawling out of his cave-lair like an earthworm blind and cold surrounded by the enveloping grey neglect that was his room. Poor Eugene. Poor, poor Eugene. Sunlight thudded silently on the lone square window boarded up with cardboard and a deep-seated resignation pertaining to the brighthappy day outside. And the world whispered in his ear, "go away! go away and never come back!" I daresay it was possibly a misanthropic fly buzzing close to his ear laden with boisterous diseases of the soul but Eugene perceived it differently. So what was Eugene to do? Poor, poor Eugene. Poor, decrepit Eugene. His receding hairline was all that he had, his gleaming bag of diamonds and rainbows. His vibrant, actively receding hairline. Poor, poor Eugene. Poor, aging Eugene.

" Do I include the World in my miseries? It is there, sure, waiting, waiting, waiting for me to come to a proper, democratic, unanimous conclusion. It stares at me with famineblue eyes challenging my degeneration. Do I stand strong? Do I dare? The scent of all its grief and all its wars unceasingly draws deep lines and caves under my eyes. It is one thing to go against the world, or the world against you, or love against grief, or grief against plunder...but alas, now it is a mere heartfelt pause that resides in my isolation. My conscience, he chuckles, and sips his wine. Poor, poor Eugene. Poor, dead Eugene.

Red-Velvet

My name is Épais Velours and this is not the beginning of my story. My name isn't Épais Velours either---but I made it up because I don't like my real name (But I like my last name. It sounds funny in Estonian: Kibestunud). I am 12 to 21 years old. In a few minutes my father will take me to an Asylum. He says it has soft rooms and bright, white lights. And nice people in white shirts who will take care of me. I don't want to go. I heard him tell my mother it's next to a 'desolate' beach, slithering towards a sleepy sea. I made sure to take my mother's vial of pills from the cabinet in her toilet before my father and I left in his favourite sedan. Apart from some of my clothes, my bag consists of a toothbrush, a vial of diazepam, a vial of dextropropoxyphene, three strips of nitrazepam, smoking paper and a gram of cannabis. I'm sure there are a few alprazolams in my bag, hiding. I'll find them later. Before we'll leave I'll smoke a doobie outside in the garden, behind mother's blooming rhododendrons. My cousin was supposed to come with us, and toke with me, but he didn't turn up. I don't know why. Maybe he's sad. Or depressed. Depressed is a nicer word. It has a more official feel to it.

The doobie is over.

8:15 PM. We're finally on the road, and my father is humming his favourite song. I've never liked it. He learnt it in the army.

8:30 PM. I'm in the backseat of the sedan and on five tablets of nitrazepam. It'll take a while to hit. It takes six hours to drive all the way to the Asylum.

9:15 PM. 10 nitrazepams, 5 diazepams and 15 dextropropoxyphenes. I found some sort of pill in my bag called ACE-PROXYVON, and I popped three of them. I feel sort of woozy---some sort of effect on my cerebellum---otherwise I'm experiencing a slow slur towards double vision and an aching desire for a smoke.

2:15 AM. My name is La Lumière Rouge, and this is not the beginning of my story.

4:00 AM. Timothy Tart brought in dead. Cause of death: Overdose.

This is the beginning of my story.

If God was a desert,
You would be his desert flower.
And if God was a desert,
I would be his mirage.

And if God was a mirage,
I would be religious.

And if I were to be religious,
We could've been good together.

We could've been good together,
If I were to be religious.

But, alas---

Realisation Song

A falseweak sun at the break of dawn
Tugs at hearts bent on being forlorn
Till a fad of farse and fault is born
A fad which we all secretly want to belong to

And those of you who empathise
With shallowsheep in wolf's disguise
Who know nothing but still criticise
Their lungs full to the brim with blackhole lies:
Do you really think that you ought to?

And those of you with shirts and ties
Who never witness the change of skies
Or suns and moons, but mere hellogoodbyes
It's time that you wipe the sand out of your eyes
And realise that our world is stark naked

But don't you blame
Another name
For in the end we're all the same
Stuck together in a go-go game
That goes on and on, oh what a shame
That we cannot escape this spiral

And those of us who fall in love
With hope that there are harps above
Will fall out of it soon enough
When we realise that haloed men don't exist here

And I'm not here
To bring you down
I'm not here to witness frowns
All I want, babe
Is to wipe that sand out of your eyes

Just realise,
Realise,
Realise;
And wipe that sand out of your eyes
And then it's pretty easy
To smile as long as you're alive----
Just avoid the rules of human beehives

And when the coast
Is sharply clear
Bottoms up to your mug of beer
Let music crawl inside your ears
And dissipate all your fears
You'll find out, man
It ain't that hard to smile forever

'Cause all I want, babe
Is to see you smiling.

Kisses of moonshine

(We are one)
In our land
We're drunk
and we're high
On lifelesslove
and the taste of the whitest of lies
No need for shallow
hellogoodbyes
And there's no need for you
To preach to me
On love and life and the things that be
Many preachers before
have said the same thing to me.


(In the mornin'
She was there
With her long flowin'
Flowin' hair
But in the evenin'
We're leaving
our separate ways)

Sleepysilent heart of mine,
Drunk on kisses of moonshine

And don't you forget
All the songs we sang
In our wildest breath
Lay this secret land
And don't forget
To kiss, and sigh
Watch time fly
slowly by
Like an albatross in the sky

And don't you leave
Your girl in love
Leave her staring
At stars above
Take her by the hand
To an otherworldly land

Sleepysilent heart of mine,
Drunk on kisses of moonshine

With a girl by my side
I've got nothing on my mind
Without a care in the world
I've got nothing on my mind
There's nothing on my mind

And so it was
Laughter at dawn
No more summertime blues
Or feeling forlorn
We were reborn

Sleepysilent heart of mine,
Drunk on kisses of moonshine

bluegreyplateau

It is a still-life silver evening,
Coffee on the moon.
As back in Earth, love rolled on,
To a thin, insipid tune.

Overhead was a breathing sky,
Who shook with songsandstars;
As amongst the chaos sang a lamenter:
A dim red planet, called Mars.

Back in Earth, you stood faceless,
Bathing in rush and red;
But don't you know, dearest freckles
Beneath all that ego, you, indeed, are dead.

And the waitress took my coffee away.
Yes, closing time was nigh.
As I sat there in a shroud of smoke---
I was floating in the sky.
Again, she told me, "it's time to go,
As the cigarettes have been fired."
I asked her for
just one
last
toke,

But the ashtrays had retired.

On mixed emotions

Too soon, too soon
you took flight.
This just might be, madame
the very end
of our brightestnight.

Ode to euphoria

We made love
In a labyrinth of sparkling moonlight,
Painting shadows in the sky.
Your body writhed,
In soft rhythmic motions;
To the pulse of swerving sitars.
I could hear your breath:
Rising...falling...rising...falling...
And in a burst of euphoric mirth,
I followed the beat of your heart,
And sang a song to your eyes;
As swirling smoke rose from an incense stick,
Caressing the deadfolds of a deadcalm satin curtain.

Realise, friend
How utterly beautiful your life is.

Realise.

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.