F.O. (Ghost Town)


He who broke it
Is he who spoke it
Pussycat waver
Fancy hat sporting
His fancy half supporting
The cat and the rat

He who named it
Should've eaten it
Tiger shirt waver
Long hair sporting
Glued to his mat
What a rat

He who said it
Is he who meant it
And what do you know:
The same person tomorrow
As he was months ago
As if he didn't know

He who named it
Should've eaten it
And I would've taped it
Then I would've framed it

Whether to continue or to drop it
Does he want it or doesn't want it
The top priority? It's hard to say
But sticks to his better half anyway
Speaks
About grand things
Music kings
But tied to a cog
Stupid frog

And he doesn't see me
And I don't see him
I've left those streets
Long time ago
I play ghost town
Two eternities in a row


2006.




A shade in the dark


Rubik’s cube
London tube
Hypnotist
Writes a list

Well you said you wanted to hang around now
Well this is the time to hang around now
Talk forever about the lever
Eloquent nun, well-fed son
Did they threaten they’ll cut rewire the wire
Did they threaten they’ll tell everyone you’re a liar

Just a shade in the dark
You’re just a shade in the dark
A mirage in the park
Just a shade in the dark

Clench the fist
You say where
Nihilist
You say chair

Trace the train that calls to Coltrane
Biding my time on platform five
Walk forever around the lever
Selling my guns to some eloquent nuns
I lower my eyes and to my surprise
I see through my palm too late to be calm

Just a shade in the dark
I’m just a shade in the dark
A mirage in the park
Just a shade in the dark 

How great the view


How could you ever sleep again?
How do you sleep at all anyway?
The windows won’t wail
The walls won’t wail
The wisemen would not war your wars
You are alone
On your own.

And you should be one, not two nor three, it was never me, and you know it, you knew it, and they knew it too, I’d never tell, I’d cover for you, it’s true

But when I ask if we shall bask
Admire the fire at close quarters
You fake a frown, a Warhol clown
You send me down
Through the window pane.

You always say
You love to admire the instant
As a distant relative
Imagine the instance
From a great distance.

And I know you still do
‘Cause I’m watching you
But you can’t see me
I go in, I go out, the wires hissing
Trying to tell you
You never knew
How great the view
You’re missing.

You spitting pills
I spitting glass
You swallowing uppers
I swallowing splinters
Say, do you have a great view?
Do you have a great view from up there?




May 2011

a morning piss


there is water
somewhere
I know ‘cause I heard about rain
I saw them
carying the canisters
in very long processions
that made me humanly desaturated
justify my teeth of a non-smoker
paint someone’s pathetic friends
into something daily edible
I’m a heatbody enough to know the difference
between the presence and the un-presence
sometimes there is no difference
meadows of ovens that shine from afar
a mercy for a matinnee with a cancer lisp
as sure as a morning piss
as sure as flying saucers flying over antwerp

the lights are out the staff’s gone home
nothing left to cut the skin the liar on
no one left to talk to myself to talk
all the mouths I won’t make laugh
are paying for my seat
but the muscle of all muscles is awol 
if you come back
I promise I’ll paint you back with black
the body and the no-body
the beauty and the cellar
remember me I am the enemy 
just give me the moment
I’ll buy me the moment
when my throat shrivels to a ripcord
through which nothing can pass
not even the key to the room
out of the gloom
into the bliss
of all things dark small and edible
as sure as a morning piss
as sure as flying saucers flying over antwerp

play it again
I say play it again sam
oh god do you know
what’s going on down below
promise you’ll know what it means
promise they’ll know what it means
promise they’ll know how how much how deep
without dysinfection
digested for masses by the strangers with glasses
full weight
right through the heart clean shave
through the muscle of all muscles
when I can’t be a miracle
may I at least be a shoulder
me I’m hollow
I can swallow
anything
as long as there’s a colour to miss
my hand’s grateful for being able to write this
as sure as a morning piss
as sure as flying saucers flying over antwerp
  
                                                                                    


 January 2011




Egan



Twisting all the way
He came down south looking for a savior
Been out for a day (Looking for a way)
To figure out figures and this strange behavior

Figures don’t speak to him
Figurines are dim and grim
Sylphs and syllogisms don’t live in symbiosis
Blessed be him who invented prognosis

Jiving all the way
He came down south looking for a savior
Been gone for days (Looking for a way)
To remember, to forget, to filtrate, perpetuate
Yes, maybe he’ll write about it later

Figures don’t speak to him
Figurines are dim and grim
Sylphs and syllogisms don’t live in symbiosis
Blessed be him who invented prognosis

Twisting all the way
Looking for the man whose records he plays
His shoe laces do not obey
Finding that corner, he thought of some famous words to say
The shiny piece of iron dearly paid
After that, everything fades to grey

Figures don’t speak to him
Figurines are dim and grim
Sylphs and syllogisms don’t live in symbiosis
Blessed be him who invented prognosis

So that we always know
When to show off with our new umbrellas
While the world is falling down

Dancing all the way
Looking for a man who’ll hear him play
Before everything fades to grey
The holy man put his hand on him
He stopped dancing
Collapsing with a grin
His chin on some children’s chalk sketch
And ink swallowing everything

They cut him open to satisfy the press
But no answers whatsoever
The body weighed forty pounds less
The heavy man weighed light as a feather

talk to me


talk to me
talk to you

a blind man talking to a deaf man
talking with the hunger unknown to a grown man
lines of a life of a lifelong waiting in line
this is how it feels (this is) how it kills when you don’t

talk to me
talk to me

you and I talking with the dead eye
of a soul of a severed salmon with black rye
black tie black light dressing for dressing for a stone fight
this is how it feels (this is) how it kills when you

talk to me
talk to me

a clayman moaning to a layman
you and him talking always only you and him talking away time
coffin bedridden access forbidden
yes I know the drill this is how it feels when I

talk to you
talk to you

anybody
anybody
behold fiber cord
the word of the lord like glue
miles of one-man walk
I just want to talk to you

talk to me
talk to me




July 2010




believeher (holy holy)


he’s been telling me about the roses
shut up shut up shut up
I don’t want to hear the name
he’s been telling me about the hoses
shut up shut up shut up
I don’t want to hear the name
check the facett check the boiler
check the iron check the oven
check the door check the lock
doublecheck doubleshock

the gardener’s not really a gardener
the son is not really a father
the beginning is not really the end

I can move my cellphone with my eyes on the book
I can talk to jesus with my hands on the meathook

he made me a stranger
in my own house
he gave me a list of names
now I’m stuck in this place
eating lactose-free meat
with a wooden spoon.
but I have a needle.
and a lifeful of time.
a needle in the father’s eye
a spear in the son’s thigh
do it by the book
hands on the meathook
what I believe in
I do believe in
are you tapeing
are you receiving


hands


hands taking
hands talking
helping hand
was in command
hands in need
hands that feed
hands that rock
cradles in the dark
hands that move
hands that prove
that I moved
your heart or not
hands of a savior
hands of a governor
hands of a Native American
hands of Tony Levin
hands talking
(you don’t need to talk)
don’t feel like talking
(we don’t need talk)
all I need
is to see your hands
show me.
show me
your hands.
your hands
like the hands of god.