About Death and those things

It had always felt so smug
To talk about death
when
you suppose it
when
you try to figure it out
when
you fulfil it
when
you elude it
when
There’s not really anything to figure out.
when
There’s not really anything to suppose
Neither anything to elude or fulfil
when
There’s not really anything to try to
Metaphor
Philosophize
Complicate
Reason out
Dissect
….
It is all so godamn simple!
Life is life.
Death is death.
And it all gets to that.

when you become alone

Shut up, you'll never make it till
                          8 o'clock
when inevitably you have to get up
and eat
       or drink
and drive to this place
where you'll die
                  briefly.
But now.... shut...
keep rolling cigarettes
till 6 am and having scotch
until you've got no more reasons
to roll cigarettes for
keep watching porn
stiring your head
becoming lorn
writting poetry
feeding the cats
the housewives
the madness desires

And shut up
when you arouse
      wasted
        or mad
and you'll drive
yourself to work
and see
and eat
and bunch
all this things you silently prefer to
shit on to
so you can
at 00.00
regress home
and so
do it all back again

Love Problems Solution: Rohypnol (everything you need to know from a guy's t-shirt on a full bar with faces that recall empty tequilha shots)

She said:
  Are you wearing a blouse with that awful sentence on?

"It's not a blouse."
             he said.

"Well, it's not a blouse
but it's a t-shirt."

"It's funny."

"Not.So.Funny."
"Well...what can I do to make it funny?"

"Buy me some characters. Buy me some cells. Spare me. Buy me some drinks, baby."

"I don't own any drinks."

So..............
and the night goes on...

Oh... Everything

(For a lover's friend)


Everything you thought
                      to be
is now telling you
you're not
   everything you said
                   it would be.


Everything is said on a piece of trashed paper.
On a glass of empty wine.
On a body of horrifying regret.

Everything you thought it
        would fill inside
         little black holes
   is now
         filling somewhere
         near sold.

Everything you thought
          you would drink
is now getting inside you
                      so cold.
Everything you thought you
            would feel is now
                        completly
                               stoned.

                        

what liesandconqueres

I roam transient
before you
but you don't sight me
You spit with damp eyes of who asks
but wants nothing
You mourn but cite
and use yourself
as a pattern
of wise man to track.
I'm possessed by a unmeasured
love for your persona
but also
by you.
I jut my form in the space where we collect
and pour in madness
and dejection
prepotent
We get lost only during
a remote and slight trice
where we possesse the delicious notion of
what we cannot attain
But out of time
we yearn to achieve.
The insolents,
maybe.
Only not with you.
Sprouts and explodes everything
inside where it doesn't glimpse
but squanders then outward
where it ridiculously segments itself
You arise diligent and gather
what you fancy
but what you leave and what you
select
ends up not belonging to me
ends up
not making sense.

the other one

I have guarded some things
Some boys
Some girls
Gave me
But not regular boys or girls
Hot boys and girls
So hot I had to melt
With the hotness of their bodies
So I have guarded some things
Every time I got home
after the melting
But this time
This boy
Gave me something
I could not guard
Or hold
Or occlude
Was something
So crazy
So intemperate
So hot.
I held it back
And the boy lost me
In the component meaning of lose
Because the spaces were disproportionately dispersed
And we talked
And talked
About hotness
And gifts
And I decided to leave
To met the other one
But I brought something,
Something viscous,
slothful
And hot
That this boy
gave me.

A FUCKING SWEET TV SHOW

She appears glinting
in the big screen of my televisor
"This is Ruby Hatcher on the underground tv,
I'm holding here a full bottle of Jack
ready for drink
And today I'm going to share with you
a little bit of my pregnancy stories”
                                      (laughs)
“no...not pregnancy
I actually think that those guys I've slept with
didn't know how ejaculation actually happens!”
                                     (laughs)
“Like this young fella I once bound with
we were getting on
he was gasping, I was gasping
and right before I came
he said "I don't know if I've camed yet"
                                  (laughs, laughs)


“And this sixteen-year-old virgin
who asked me if I could make her come
because nobody had ever made her come”
                                            (laughs)
“And I asked her
But weren't you a virgin?
she said
yeah, but virginity
doesn't prevent obscenity “
                                     (Laughs, Laughs)
“and that was that guy
who stuck his finger up my ass
And I
Well I didn't do anything
because it kind of felt nice
And later on
his father came to me
And said
I heard you fucked my son
he said you fucked fine
I also heard
you were anal finger-fucked by my son
I heard he anal finger-fucked you fine
and so I was thinking
well, I was thinking
maybe…”
                                          (LAUGHS)
“and he stuck his finger up my ass, too”
                                         (laughs)
"Thank you, he said."
                                        (laughs)

I pause the show and think that
Teri Hatcher looks nicer on tv
Than she does in real life
She spills some Jack down
her throat
appearing enhanced and currently profound

“…and the bi-sexual boy was a total demented
So he asked me several times to cut off his balls
I answered “Damn!”
But I never did it
I was afraid of getting stick to them”
                                                    (laughs)
“And this one specific night
The madman
Compelled me
To do some real nasty things with my fist
And I did it
It wasn’t that bad after all
Just a little bit warm and thigh
But when I saw my knuckles
They were full of shit and gut”
                                  (BLHAC)
“I just clean them up”

I take off my glasses
They seem to hurt my bones
Change the channel
Foretelling the moans
When they come
I put on underground tv again
And watch Teri a bit more
Until she seems ridiculous
Talking about felaccios
And terathophilia
And cuts
Getting really vicious
And I turn off the televisor
Thinking about where does this girl comes from
And go to bed to
sleep.

Things that are only real for me as an eighteen year-old-girl naked on the edge of a typewriter

Under
Papersacks shuffle
Getting high with
thunder
The logy wastrel
Lights me cigarettes over and over
Wandering about the unseen
A friend of him
How he used to drive cars as James Dean
As he pours some hootch
On a little plastic cup
Sipping all in one gulp
And drive tomatoes
To nasty pulp
With his frowzy fingernails
Until some other wastrels
Start singing in their balconies
Exhaling smoke through their noses
With fancy prostitutes sat on their knees
Filthy wound cigarettes
Launched to our feet
And get crazy
While masturbating those hookers
And singing odd tunes
Whistling
Covered by the dark shapes of old dunes
Jouncing their big heads

Front
                      Back
Being bitten
On his thick neck
And the wastrel next to me
His old blue eyes are shining
He’s drunk
and I understand
he is a worshipper
mostly because of himself
and I lean close
lounging my head on his shoulder
You’re an artist, I tell him
while the city is in molder
We stand there
Drinking and smoking
Until we throw it all up
And start back again
In the middle of irreversible seeks
He says, and you’re the finest listener
I’ve ever found on these streets

About those times when you feel attracted to a fifty something old man who ends up revealing a real leck of interest in feeding your beliefs about the eternity of sexual life

Reading Charles Bukowski at night
in bed, before sleep
helps me fantasize
about different studs
who actually bound better than this one
it certain reminds me
the real smell of a man
which I no longer recall
alcoholic drinks
cigarette smoke and
used sweaty clothes
are just the perfect combination
to manliness
Then I saw thousands of those men in
Argentine
or over midnight dirty old clubs
chasing young girls
to later on, at night
fuck
like hungry wolfs
with their big empty beer mugs
and white thick stains
all over their crotches and groins

But there's one man
listening Frederic Chopin
while reading William Burroughs short stories
which is merely an act of desperation
because doing both at the same time
is never right
on this condictions
Observing him in my mind
has helped me concentrate
on this kind of purple old fleshy veined dick
which was hopping in front of me

So, I sat down on my quilt
Try read some more Bukowski
and I'm only starting
when the snoring begins
and I'm terrified
This man keeps squirming on the bed
calling me honey and stuff
and his used ties are
left over the floor and dressing table
like used condoms
in an animal night
Just that,
this was not an animal night
And as the snoring increases
I give up, puting my book on the shelf
turning to the left to sleep
But the image of this
forty blonde old guy
is strolling all over my mind
so I spread my legs
and please myself
When he wakes up
drowsy and mad
with this hard on
which I hopeful take notice
as he turns to me
and keeps saying
Oh honey, it's nothing, go back to sleep

Nasty Sex

Today I drank a whisky
and, it was the first in
       3 tequilla shots
I barely could think
and my eyes were turning red
You scraped by back
making it sap
but somehow
I was licking the blood
  which was draining down from my shoulders
And your knees
   Oh baby your knees
were right above my head
So maybe it was not mine,
the blood I was licking
And maybe it was not from the shoulders

Sustained in my knees
I did those yoga positions
I learned on a dvd
as you sniffed some perfect coke lines on my spine
and fucked me like only a dog does
Do you enjoy fucking like animals?
And he shut me up by slapping my
                                               ass
which silhouette is still
   on my buttock
   next to your bites
           and bruises
           and hematomes
           and wounds
But baby, let's be classy
Let's moor me up from the ceiling

And late at night
When I left
the flashy meat of my body
was trembling and knotted by
those ropes
And my mother saw the blood
on my blouse and she yelled
DARLING WHAT HAPPENED
Oh mummy, I was assaulted by a lion
YOU SHOULD BE MORE CAREFOUL
And late at night I heard
crying
it was her, saying to dad
that I've been attacked by a lion
And I laughed
You dirty old man
And next time
when my arms were getting hold up in action
I told you that
I still couldn't get no satisfaction
Beetween laughs and fleer
you thought me
how to convince you
getting really hardcore with me
you said
only if you call me daddy
And when I regressed home
Mum found I had been raped by a lion again

Today we're going to party like it's 1966

mystic cirles

made from water
tic tic
tic.
Hello Bunny-boy
who's dancing on thick power lines
backflips
frontflips
Hello Sweet girl
who's asking for drinks
want some?
yeah yeah yeah yeah
yeah.
Let me go up there
with you
woo

Hey Bunny Boy
Hey Sweet girl
is it today we're going to jazz, or what?
Not yet bunny, you're sweet
but I'm afraid you make me hurt
I won't sweet girl
then take me to bound
swinging from line to line
until we've made it on
underground

Hellooo Bunny-boy
Give me the bottle you're grasping
Hmm
Step aside, keep behind
I'm going to show you
1966
If you don’t mind
Step by step
Cable by cable
Through Paris
And Munich
And Texas
Through a hogshead of fire

Sweet Girl
Want to party like 1966?
A smile gutters on my face
Elate my arms
Up high
And shed my clock aside
It converts itself
On snow
White black snow
I want to party like 1966

Hello Sweet Girl
Want to see my secret garden?
Keep hopping with me
The air is dry
The sun is bright shining old
Our hands are intertwined
Shapes getting mold
He conserves his hasted beat

Ei Bunny-Boy
Hand me your band bottle
We sure don’t want me
To get off
Dry.
Ei BB don’t run away from me
And cut off with the evil laughing
Then I started to see
Bunny Boy now turns silver
OOOooooo
And he dances the waltz
And his shapes reverted on the moon
On the white snow
Black snow
Among our animal feet
Slights of fire
Sing song sad
And sat
With our butt on the power lines
And we smoked cigarettes
Until he gave me his bottle
And disappeared
Cheers, you animals!

Blues maneuvering out of this

Summer dawns with coffee and beers
and cigarettes
with Billie Holiday
and
yet
sometimes
some whisky

slugs crawling all over my arms
and body
Those jazz players
sitting on a corner
looking at me
and I drunk more whisky
because I couldn't bare their look
their eyes
their words
yet sometimes
I kneel in nights
and it should have been in america
in New York
in Mexico
it should have been anyplace where except here

and they sing about strange fruits
about blues
those things I can support well
I keep remembering strange movies
divisions running away with me
and this theory
that everything will somehow
get along
get together
and make sense
those delirious objects
inside of me
actually being pushed

and I keep singing  along with them
also along with this critter
who reminds me of me
and the critter
is so horny
I can't bear it
and he blinks at me
saying words I would never understood
unless drunk
like now
and he keeps talking
and keep drinking

and both of us
want chaos
we need chaos
we enjoy it

Baby you've got monsters in your head

for Mary Jo

Lighted cigarette on your fingers
and lips
frozing the heat of your skin
and mind
Black clouds moving shift
upon the dark velvet sky
creating shades on your littles eyes
Sweet Mary
Escaping away from shrills
which are getting higher
shuffling to one point of the room
to another
you keep scratching on this reproductions
of full black screen
writting fissures on canvas
Blowing them out to the mainstream

And I keep hail
invoking your name
Sweet Mary
and the mythical things you think
I keep invoking them
again
and again
and again

And I say
baby you've got monsters in your head
but this doesn't mean anything
the lighted cigarette.
our crystal glass of wine.
the scratches.
the shrills.
baby you've got no monsters in your head
sweet sweet mary
down down down low
inevitably
I know
who's the one who got monsters in her head
sweet sweet Mary Jo

.Blow Job

Give me a blow job,
          he asked me
I really don't find
      a justification or
      a resonable argument
    to do such a thing.
But why won't you suck me
            he implored
I don't feel like it
let's just have
                        sex.

Jabberjaws, I want to call you
well, yeah, not this time
he sipped some
                         beer.

I want to watch your mouth down there
         wrapped around my balls
And then he yelled
      Why not now?
But
         I really didn't felt like it
        and I insisted to fuck
No, no. He said.
I really love when you do it
         now fandly
Some other time
I wish we greened for love making
Just the tip then
Lick my crotch
But no,
         not this time
He sipped some beer and he lighted a cigarette
         Give me a blow job!
No! I foiled him
                                OK!
  he curved down my ear
he murmured handly and lewdly
  I'm gonna screw you hard
                          And we fucked
                          all night.