existence as a foreign language

 Scream at the corner
where your father used to sit
Until life escaped him
more than he escaped it

A pitch that would deafen demons
immigrating from the mouth
across the rule of life
across the chaos of death

And their ongoing scheme

Your upward curve

 The leak of legacy
The official forgetting of an era
A billboard replacement
rent of the mind

Absent bedside manner

 In the house ambulance
up and down elizabeth street
A glass zoo both sides of the family
Death bed calamity
Bandages on both kidneys
the sirens rang idyllic panic
Iv drips directly into the brain
the patient my father quite lost as the ambulance turned
what color or degree of mould we will never know

Although those that know best 
with a certificate from god were there
while I was off here in Brazil
fulfilling my own false need for peace
with a mind wound up for war

The ambulance as big as a house
The blood cleaning machines 
The perfection of proud concern
the road and tires screeched like dogs
Like thieves who were sneaking away
in a stolen car
Me in this stolen life
Did I have to steal it to own it
Both kidneys bandaged now

The heart begs for fairness
the brain simultaneously ridcules
and explains it away like a wise older brother
an absent one that drove through ditches to get to palm trees
That are dust just to taste nobilis leaves
But the way the ambulance swerved
everything shifting toward the glass window
overlooking the apathetic city


The ambulance gurney painted with every face of a caring family
except my face
Except my ditch
My unworthy limp
the glitch of me
The tainted blame
The century of disappointment crammed into a few years
That my own brother wish me dead
That he curse me with every chamber
that feudish so natural in his spirit
That I could even love that part, as the years roll like boulders

across my pre-tech generational novelty epoch

souls apart

 different extremes
each persons` dreams

Whatever their reality is
through it truth is screened

A great day in Finewoods of swampeden

 In the fine woods in the nearest place to swamp eden
where the forest and swap vegetation merge worshipping each other
Mossing where sunlight couldn´t reach
causing a strange mystical friction upon the surrounding

The niave outsider made his way into this world
a clumsy insect into the flower
He cast his line into the swamp ponds alluring waters
Only to be cast himself high out above the water

And there constantly floating about
the intoxicated dragonfly

As if acquired by nature
then echoed out the way it intended
The hunter fisher or gatherer became an animal to serve it
a soldier in it´s army, a word in it´s language

Over and under the swamps dwelled a people so obsessed by tradition
it was hardly fathomable they be able to survive
meeting at their long dimlit tables in their dens
rodent like eyes checking for rapport only sufacing to inspect their past
as if to check if they actually had an origin and not a fable concocted

Museums were as churches
An ancient empty feeling touches the skin, falling like tattered spider web
the chambers broad and haunted, the dust alive somehow
The door arches x ray machines exposing our inner intention
in front of us, a blatant shield using our own malice to fearfully trick our minds

Passing by the subterranean laboratories and temples
Under huge overbearing hardwoods
Their roots curving the subtle lip like entries which give the enterer no head space
almost as a warning that those who do not bow as they descend
will injure the very part of the body that creates thought

The end of this world comes as the midafternoon sun exposes the shade
dappled light speaking to the ground warning it of the final minutes
Humans base desires protruding out of them like neon signs
and blocking them from getting into those labs and temples
And so hastening their departure for the lackluster cities of the common

But it was a great day, the tickle of existance could be felt
seltsam and exquisite

The loud entsobia

 she sat at the back of the class
closer to the loser, the bully, the misunderstood
the mix of music noise soup
boiling sperm

no telepathy yet
just an explosion of random contrary thoughts
expressing themselves
Violently and chaotically

desks scarred and lined
Threats and fears meet in aged biro
Defeat and victory make out over the wood
A tagged up grafiti orgasm

The drone like teacher
pushing wrinkles and bodily exhaustion
against the lino shoe marks and prejudice
He tramps back to silent damp state house

The loud soup of life
youth it´s parsley

Fitting in

 Fitting in
raise your glass
To never know oneself
On the train glancing out for something
eyes getting grabby toward the passing scenery
None of it, all of it
all of you confused

Forbidden self knowledge
Blindspots in your self
Just neighbors you try to avoid
always on the quest to be understood
never taking it on yourself

Waiting for someone else to cement you
between the other bricks

To know oneself well
where convenient
letting the parts of yourself you don´t understand
have their yard time
before you go out to live your real life

Chips of it all breaking off
in the friction of an uncontrollable world.

Dinner time

 you can´t decide on which cafe
the courtyard miniskirt confusing the path of your stroll
Your war cry accused of being a troll
chicken being fried out of some paupers heart

The underground filled with clean water

flowers and plants and fish fill it up
giddy euphoria
behind the glass you watch the animals
and they watch you as if spirits from the afterlife

The long green grass so abundant
the new fruits not quite mature
expectations fly
like hammers and axes

The underground grows into the world

The energy to reach for boots
take up the fight
like kindling alight
With all the meaning of a town center food court

Appetite settling the stomach and the life purpose
deep desire craddling my veins
Oh what freak of the light
a freak of the light

Unable to decide which restaurant to eat in