...................................................................................................

we don't write letters


we're quiet people
shut in some drawer

i hate her


she says i live in a dream
it's my laugh, i suppose

she says my sadness is nonsense
while i cry

she says i love much too much
fuck it!

but soon it'll be over


there you are, unable
no windows, no light
alone with your lies
while time disappears
you better go to nepal
bleeding eyes

you sound so breathless in this house
such cheap tones lacking summits
no more than word
after word
like tinny
little
bul
let
s

innocent somewhere else


my body is guilt (but not guilty)
no priest nor therapist
no love to wash and forgive
that sentence that blinds me

there's a fine fight, and i beg the full doom
daily suffocating in my own
vacuum

i exist!


at your pleasure..

wat een gelux!


nada como a liberdade que uma língua estranha dá

a good life is a forgetful one

we touch our tastes very often

verdejante, viçoso


robusto, vigoroso

copyright já começa a feder


aqui umas palavras cultas, depois um comentariozinho inteligente e gozado. e pra terminar minha participação na conversa, uma frase pra incitar mais discussões apaixonadas sobre esse tema tão erudito.

suicide boy

the boy's blue eyes
with grey blue rings
says 'careful mom
or i'll cut my strings'

he's a mild'n'sweet smile
as his mother eats onion things
desperately

a man, a black suit king
doesn't look

momma is mad
things fall off her mouth:
'shut the fuck up, kid!'

screaming won't help


they tamed your voice
during the midday torture
skin after skin
and your appeal didn't stop the day
clear as a blade

now you go deformed
never more cruel
your fever don't burn nomore

you grew old
hanging in the attic
like a forgotten thing

das ordens e desordens sabemos todos


o que não sabemos não somos

pra não dizer que não falei em flores..


- espinhos!

confusion


the true technique of seduction

music is good for the soul


and soul is good to listen to

um sol saiu


friozinho e de fininho..

não se sinta tão só, poeta


que estamos todos sós com você

o público é um monstro


primeiro mastiga o artista
depois cospe os ossos

de repente a revolução


vaticanenses esperam por meses
no frio da praça por um fio do papa
e aplaudem (à sombra de platão)
felizes da vida

os dias voam mas a gente não


pobre menina
no aeroporto, presa na praça
uma viagem tão curta - de casa e de volta
deu adeus a paris, se perdeu na fumaça
e a cor cotidiana
sua risada linda e solta
perdeu toda graça..

our limits are unlimited


we live with nature disasters, airplane crashes
animal extinctions, deadly viruses, horrid violence
but
we adapt quickly because we're the cause, not the effect

wanting is pure joy, having is a downer


i've been walking a lot
around this flat
lately
from the kitchen to the room
then the toilet
window

(my soul is tight, thin as a rat's squeak, transparent panic, a stone in the north sea, my guts hurt like a fish, can't feel my fingers!)

a good thief is a creative thief


so here's a REWARD:
an idea, a concept, a meaning
feedback, exposure, contact
and a nice welcome speech

a framework, if you like


sleep-deprivation toxins are a social disease
we all happily suffer together
violence lasts longer than the act itself -
each coin a drop of blood
each bleed a drop of coin

in the future all we'll have left is the past
and we're already running late

i couldn't agree more


no matter how far you go
i'll still be many miles ahead
because i'm already gone, and old
and you are oh so young and bare

ebb and flow



the heat, all red and bubbly
dry, arid, desolate
has to walk around in wet veils
reduced by grief, miserable
for the rest, it's ike's time
and josephine's, kyle's
the alphabet goes merrily, tragically
and fast over everyone's heads
like the wind and the water
time's spinning around

psicopoema


psicofome psicomata até psicopata

committed


if i humbly leave behind a diamant
only one eternally shinning star
that'd would be enough for me

expensive junk



The Helpdesk Program that periodically checks the size of your e-mail space is
sending you this information. The program runs weekly to ensure your
inbox does not grow too large, thus preventing you from receiving or sending new e-mail.
As this message is being sent, you have 18 megabytes (MB) or more stored in
your inbox. To help us reset your space in our database, please enter your
current user name (_________________)
password (______________)
You will receive a periodic alert if your inbox size is between 18 and 20 MB.
If your inbox size is 20 MB, a program on your Webmail will move your
oldest e-mails to a folder in your home directory to ensure you can continue receiving
incoming e-mail. You will be notified if this has taken place.
If your inbox grows to 25 MB, you will be unable to receive new e-mail and it
will be returned to sender. All this is programmed to ensure your e-mail
continues to function well.
Thank you for your cooperation.
Help Desk

the public works




saw a rastafari sitting on a stone, quite the statue, quietly. not looking, alone.

then this girl came, she sat for a while next to him. suddenly she jumped into the sea and started moving her legs and arms wildly - like she had 8 arms and legs to move, like some unwillingly dying octopus turning and splashing forever while the sun went down behind the motionless rasta.

silly story


they meet each other
- his eyes -
'the scent of him..'
again he looks at her heart
in-the-depth-of-her

afterwards, they part

expensive junk


Greeting from Hong Kong

An arab made a fixed deposit of $24,500.000.00 in my bank branch where am
a director and he died with his entire family in the war leaving behind no
next of kin,if you choose to stand as my deceased client's next of kin. if
interested mail me at the address below:
mg46@yahoo.com

Yours Truly,
Ming Yang

barmém!


holly mister master muster
i'm back, and front, on repeat, all-embracing
where the sun is cracking and the rhythm entracing
i'm here to destroy, ruin, slay, butcher
and our servant neighbors - frogs, bees, pinguins
an extract, also complete - all earthlings
don't do playing, just plain living, cuddle beasts
lost but not as lost as this heavy pollution mist

experiences and thoughts


just a random composition of genes

weather report


many clouds but the sun is iron. lots and lots of winds all talking at the same time, and there's one that's very loud. when it rains, the smells - the fragrance - the scents - the flower of a tree next to the bus stop this morning, so fragile and so pungent. when it rains the senses upgrade.

the blessed souls shop at the builders paradise

Archive

Followers