FLIPPING BLA BLA LOVE THE REJECTS

1. cute to be stoned and still alive / bones crushing from within, and growing back because of outside references / i would love to belong there / in both / the creator and the created / maybe then there would be no fear / no humiliation, or forced upon gangbang monologues / i try to be there, but it is so fucking expensive / my creation is better left to you / you can hold love better than anyone i know / you can make love feel like betterment, not change / your bones are so real, and unafraid / they have never cowered and winced before nakedness / or conquered less than their sustenance / you come from hero material, not forged in the playgrounds of some flipped paradise / the burgers of hell, and all things hellish / the bus stops of our lives: your lust ran through it / mine was born and ended there, unfulfilled, disjointed, before moving to a better place / left me hanging, as it goes / can i call you? / can i find your name scratched among the names of my victors ? / your bones, the granite i speak to, can it answer? / will it? / are you who i think you are? / and have we already left together, in happiness / as it would be spoken? / 

AND TO OFF YOUR ROOMS

• human the cities are not / they crave and crave a spectacle far beyond us / (us) / no, they like to participate and mourn and moan / no, not like us / not like the dwellers left / soak a tired blanket off the grind / move / develop intelligent strategems / birthday party of the consortium as a whole / but never the beach / hands up for the gifted wicked / say, wholesale / say, talent / infuriating beyond belief / say, common / place / and placards for heinous crimes thought out during love / that we share / build on, have mutilated ideas ring true on / come wild on, and caress true love on, for / get worked up for / change and end for / set sail for / make love for / or make love make good for / the lost and grabbed / stabbed and well /

MANTIATTER

pink sugar tumbleweeds weighted down by rain

and lightning bolts too close for comfort

and still, your hand on my knee

as we watch the bumper cars under the crumpled tarpaulin

sleeping

together

WINDOWS LIKE POLICE HOSPITALITY

Mario Santiago Papasquiaro slipped inside a dead whale / found beauty there, painted it / head on is not an m, but toast / graves are dug with lawn mowers / paparazzis are lovers, courtship is still sinking / doom is getting hard / bodies come out of ice and television, flags stink on friday / you are not the first to believe, and that's what makes it so dumb / had to follow, take credit for porn shops, exercise brutality because of christmas / see; i am letting you in / this is my out

what comes after a fix? 

repair

make me bloated again / like rain, or war / sleep in antlers, typing away / to have you again / make the parrots deaf, you know / play me, the perpetual b-side to your touch /

EXCERPT FROM STUNNING BEAUTY PROPOSITION

(debasement he thinks)

getting rid of aristocrats, plumbers

third world cemeteries, stock rice

humiliating backlogs of diaries

documents of coronaries

canaries, and magpies, hives

all your alchemy

to make way

for sins posing as grace

as grace

no less than hamlet posing as play

kings as coke bottles, beauty as coke parties

coke beauty

ridiculous little brecht on the floor next to the aquarium behind the unwashed pajamas party

ridiculous the müllers with make-believe trousers and nightly retainers

teeth not evading skulls, skulls not evading sleep

sleep not evading the civilian need of coke

breakfasts returned to the goddess

centuries of insignificant toast

you add hooray

and move into the castle, a castle

with a humdrum of slaves you promised to never get involved with

crystal meth debacles as always, but never the workmanship

never the hassle per se, just the finitude

a dog’s breath drawn across your face

and still

i can be gone for you, no question

just say

just

say

say

the word

and promise

that you will never be like them, never like them never

can you still dream in sentences

murder one, or two

star dust

not complicated

not with wants

never complicated

never with wants

house

yours

cars

yours

drugs

yours

murder, well, complicated, but let’s give it a go

one festive bankier walks down the road

no

two festive bankiers walks down the road

better

feel ready?

now, kill them with something that scares you

choke one of them with an application for citizenship

drown the next one in future

easy (they are already gone)

it is easy

you have to get rid of yourself

get rid of yourself for good: kill the matter that made you you

worshipped at schools

desired at default parties

he was a nirvana boy / no he was a slayer boy

he kissed me

he loved me

i must leave you

i will leave you

CRACK HISTORY MONTH

cultivate hate > watch hate grow > harvest hate > cultivate love

bathroom sinks

pretty whales

liberty as rapidly
endearing strongbox homunculi

even those born for greatness
may refuse to shine

HAVE YOUR LIFE SUNG A CAPPELLA BY COWARDS

you had been so submissive     a feather in the hand of others

in mine you were a sought after egg     a colony of ribs

soft hair

upon the hair of hair

this first that is boasted     you had several     almost exclusively beginnings
virginities
lining up

to overtake virginities

                                                                        the weekend

rhodonite and plastic                                       it's fine with your dad

                                                                        and your mother too

for you i write vaults upon vaults

and see you break open at dawn
                                                              because snoring unto itself
will not expand you                                 because snoring unto itself
will not strengthen you beyond shame         or hold you
from holding back

PLAZA DES ALWAYS

everybody contracted lupus that year

and drank coffee shipped in

by bas jan ader

telemarketing was it

and so was everything else

just not to 

them
yet

and how they got it now

     finalemente

and wished for fresh kills

every day

*

/ nowadays they ring me up only
   to have their clairvoyancy
   confirmed /

*

prime suspect: over-dilligence

as appointed by a lamp post

selecting witnesses at mass

rate

before the judgment

light

and presence

and a couple of bankers from istanbul

sucking backgammon chips

from the curb

to defy the master trickery of

chewing gum

and holding on to currency

as they see fit

as gas stations

opt for concordance

before the meltdown

of play

altogether

smoking guns they say

seduce lovers

by daylight

on saturdays

ROBES, BUSTS AND RHYMES

more or less equal is less or more like

what she wanted he thought

as the bed had its say

and the shutters bored

on with nothing

except shielding

mother

mary

volcano

from sleep

and shipping news into

polling stations as a soft

pull at democratic intent

that word, she said

brings me closer to coming

than any promise made by tongue

wheel or legislator alike

wild buffalo

shores dried up

long before the promise

of an ocean

LITTLE STARK, LITTLE BLED

third rock from being charmed / by my unknown assailants
and just a breath from turning my cloth on the heavenly moon
to let go of a moan held on to for too long / says one who shall never
bemoan no more / for my tempered heart has shown the time
      accurately
as professed by circumstance / and flawed guts /

theeleaves
and suckling chin

my last words will be given to me
and i shall accept / them
as a last chance at poetry / or family

or a house

that always wins in the end

SKYRIM MOVED IN

we were always boring
no matter the time
you lick
corpses and nothing
but
changes
real all of a sudden
the japanese dinner plates with
munch and duchamp and pollock
plastic shouts
so tidy
all of you controlled
that gas station
where you
if you dared where i
if i gave a certain something about not just nostalgia
and every sleeper cell dreaming
would care
would dream of me my head
on a pole outside its sleeping parliament
let's say you know intimacy
and brutalism
do you dare to flip open
the universe
and give it what it deserves
before it is able to
restock its giftshop
with trinkets and memorabilia
before the retrospective and please



can you tell jerry garcia to return

my records

BILL ALL KRATS

these the volcanoes of norway

these the unspoken volcanoes of norway

erupt not

in want of a neruda

that will not speak of them

yes come watch the blood in the streets on TV and in the galleries

that pulse there in the make-up rooms

that pulse

moles

tunneling absences

polar circles and black and white rainbows (nur der teufel trägt farben)

and market research shows we have yet to be branded

but

what about these marks we carry / die landschaft / krazy kat visionen

what about these scars       the bicycle accidents      slipping     pool

when will you dig me out of the forest of your nightmares

must i grow there too 4 real     and breathe     and thrust     fade

but be not a lamp shade     not even you

but me

who is that cat near the river in the shadows

that hates tea      loves chips

FJUMES

i find you loitering in my dreams and consider the penalty / you say you are my future / tall dark and wearing shoes / unlike the past you were; rotten and horrifying naked / dandruff / so even beauty is a fragment / a sunburnt shoulder in spring / a shop for stilettoes / a thunderbolt undressing / you wake up in me asking / what are we both doing here / is waking up in strange bodies supposed to put us off / here we begin / you designed to be more beautiful than me / me designed to be understanding and jesus of nazareth or aleppo / holes they spring out of almost nothing / we can begin anew / the terror is boring / television at best / and we

TETRIS WITH UTENSILS

he readies himself / to resent her particularities

before / too late /

he worries not / this might be their last

intimacy / worries it may be their first /

always leaves hard as stone / always

returns / with a wand of moss / same old

magic / having continents take form / and

stagnate in mid-creation / satisfying only

the lava already there / 

ARNOLD BÖCKLIN WAS HERE

MERKATOR

no need to hold on

enjoy the sunset

oppose the silence

LAUGH AND BE LUXURIOUS

god's own drunkard

raised on 3D-animated pig farms

pig teeth blankets

weak pistoleros

rum heat

goreless gore

saviour

saviour

hamburger the flesh / whisky the blood

it's ok 

you are curated my son

SUFI SCIENCE

about blockbusters      you're not in them

in the scripts of making ofs      a place is held for you

beside the chairs supporting supporting actors elated and high ridiculing the ridiculous banging on about opportunities taken all full of pre-party confidence

there in the pits dug next to them the stagehands and runners will let you enter

bury you chest-high in microphones      shout action so loud you can almost hear it

and let you turn     to sleep 

BODIES LIKE LITTLE SUBMARINES

•

chased down the streets he had invented in the cities he had invented not to be chased down the streets in the cities already there whose schematics had not deliberated a future of man or huge dogs in front of the temples he had invented and the temples that were already there with teeth barks and drool and all he can remember while running down the streets in the cities 

•

the marching band in school had everything except pregnant mermaids playing oversized banjos in glass houses naked

•

finally she kissed him and he thought of automated doors opening in hospitals at night

FLEURTATION

don't go into the park     it does not want you     your skin is too light

you cost too much           you don't know the rules of courtship

she will not spread her trees      for just anyone

CURSORY DEVOTION

he had a sunny disposition

hence the supernova

that foreshadowed the monuments:

six foot statues

in the center

of every bedroom

he laid to waste

he was a couple
he was both
he left

his lovers softened

layers of fresh linen

•

AURORA VULGARIS

•

lucky moses

in other deserts

everything is burning

•

and bodies

temples

on battlefields

•

deleted scene:

man falls out of grave

letters:

four years

one for every bone

clinging to the body

to never be alone

•

SUPERLEGO

funny how muscles / erect skulls of knowing

against the erratic solutions of bodies / concerning visions

and day time

in a line where three, four people

notice how groceries / are spreading like wildflowers

around two individual legs / a mobile phone

and some chips

subduing the dull concrete / and truisms

to construct replies / in numbers and words

to last

no longer than shopping

HEROSTATICS

even when convictions fail

there are always sports 

if not 

there is always failure 

without sports

lamentation

for the squirrel and the sparrow

and the grass and the tree

and the rain

and the night and the day

that all come back

hungry

with no desire to eat

at dawn he walks
his hunger fed to him
long love letters
smuggled out like breath
as if all this mud
was rubbing against the moon
and the body     yes
only remembered 
after the fact
and crime scenes    still
like novelty acts
the whole intensity
of better imaginations
with    even the words
diasporas     pogroms    or boredom
waiting to be used
by someone unemployed
maybe without qualms


see

how the moon

is doing better now

despite you

BIG FAT ANGELS

still they complain     that the first annihilation of the oceans     

was premature

in black and white     undocumented                                at best

with van gogh painting selfies

in front of roaring plains

baked in hues of gold                                                       and soft embers

from a timely onset of the end of days

and box office asteroids                                                   sprayed

out like dull mirages on the glowing canvas

and the mammoth in the room                                                   

obviously

being the embarrassing lack of a profit margin                 shindigs

wasted on the moderate

prophylactically                                                               obscuring

even the final skyline

with temperance

 - - -

there is so much     to be unsaid

                             about the red wheelbarrow

                                                                             and it never rains

                                                                             and the chickens

lie murdered by boredom and standards

                                                                             and now

your severance package is ready:     

cold alphabet soup

BORED GAME

those teeth they keep

in there

seem so important

they must be saddened

by the abundance of smiles

forgotten

all the meals

chewed

without real hunger

*

everybody finds corruption

deplorable

before they have a go at it

the call for solidarity

is a circus act

followed

by selflessness

and dying promises

*

they speak of the mungoose

and the cobra

but not for long

somewhere in the oceans

now

a plastic bag

is patiently subduing

a manta ray

FIRST NIGHT OF THE EARTH POEM

ashamed i am to approach you like this / this my moon courting you to create a crater / 

i seem to have no choice / but to begin in that crater / to spell out desire in dusty window 

panes of cars i fight not to imagine / in the beginning there were no riots / societies wisely

not figured out yet / not so by choice / distance determined our calm / i do not know when

i began longing for you / it could be now / when we have begun / as more than thought

and you as mine / this for real / must be lava / never / bargain continents / and shuffled like 

bodies in dissipating orgies / towards the exits / towards lusts to cancel out lust / and sleep

devoid of mystery / and sleep at all / landscapes and oceans tooth paste-covered / and kissing /

with joined fists / lips of original dust /