A Surviving Game

I have become the man that I fear
I have become a bone
I have become a bowl of rice
I have become an accident prone
I have become a goldfish
I've grown some pretty wings
I have become this town of doom
I have become the wanderer's stick

Time must pass and men must learn
The hearts are all insane

I have become the partisan
I have become the fasting monk
I have become the midnight beast
I have become a crow
I have become all the people I know
I have become all mirrors
I've grown some pretty lullabies
I have become St. Stephen

Time must pass and men must learn
The hearts are all insane

I have become the make up you wear
I have become your favorite toy
I have become a sculpture of greed
I have become a bone
I have become a goldfish
I have become 2 seconds of flight
I have become your servant
I have become the sweet by-and-by

Time must pass and men must learn
The hearts are all insane

Windows Burn as Time Flies By

Babe it got so lonely – I thought I’m lost again
I thought you’re late to love me – babe, we’re just the same
Never on the dark side – with light exceptions made
Moonlight and the night tide – that’s what keeps us sane

Windows burn as time flies by

Babe I never hurt you – thought you changed the road
Just because I caused you – pain and nothing more
Missed you by a second – now everything’s ignored
All the love I gave you – abandoned by your door

Windows burn as time flies by

Babe I thought I made it – but I’ve been down too long
Everything’s exciting – now that hurt is gone
Traveling empty highways – hours, days and weeks
Thought I’ll never find you – playing dirty tricks

Windows burn as time flies by

Forty

We'll take a bottle
Of the cheapest wine
Go to Forty
Spend some time
Take a sip
That's how it is
Highway behind us
The concrete bid

Writing more
Talking less
Forty knows it
Drugs don't help
He got some for later
He got some for later

Horizon's shaken
My cocktail glass
Filled with piss
The blackbird's nest
Sit right back
Enjoy the night
Poor catholic girls
By my side

Forty laughs
Drives the bus
Take us back, please
Take all of us
And we'll pay you later
And we'll pay you later

Solemn sea
Bitter land
Anonymous ships
Quarantine flags
Strangers came
Once again
The circle has come to a full stop
Ain't it a shame

Where's your heart
I got none
Forty bought it
Long ago
So he can have it later
He can save it later

3 years back
I played guitar
With Pete the Roman
He played the drums
Learning tricks
From jazz LPs
He was good
Too good for all this

I heard he died
A lousy death
Heroin
Peter Pan
Jazz will catch up later
Jazz will catch up later

We'll take that bottle
Fill it up again
Go to Forty
Midnight men
Mystics shuffle
With the wine
Greener hills
Easier time

Silver dollar
Fits the hole
Worker's spirit
Don't get old
I'm sure it'll pay you later
I'm sure it'll pay you later

Highfisch

On darkest nights the phone is always dead
You wrapped your wires around my neck
With those blue fingertips as sharp as soap
And a hundred maybes, you sure got more in store
You don’t know yet what it’s all about
See, there’s no connection, why no need to shout
Just walk about it, gently move on
Don’t let’em hear if you’re stayin’ for long

To quote from you, it’s a nice surprise
To finally know where’s your alibi
Those relatives come and those cemeteries grow
Your head’s composed of Singapore smoke
On darkest districts your voice ignites
Whatever burns, be sure it’s mine
Just walk about it, slowly take care
Of all those things that just weren’t there

Your will has put my coat on the hook
I can’t come down, seems I’m stuck for good
You see those pockets of mine are always clean
No matter how hard you discuss the obscene
No perimeters for you to climb
I’ve broken my legs, you’ve broken my spine
A hundred floors down, ain’t that where it’s at
You’ve done so much better with a wise diplomat

You’re putting disasters right up at this shelf
I’ve dusted it off, to see what you got left
Oh all of these pictures I’ve see that they’re gone
Me standing by your white telephone
Me smoking cigars for a dime or two
What’s cheap, like you said, can never be good
Yeah, you’re kinda cheap now, too, I admit
With your head in the clouds and eyes at your feet

That Persian carpet is gone for good
I’ve see you’ve some changes, I’ve got you some moods
The I-ching witch couldn’t do it just fine
You’ve hired a plumber, you’ve boasted my pride
Could never repair what never was broke
I’m stuck here with you, might end here and choke
Your blues goes deeply into my throat
Can’t come out like you, can’t be ignored

Somedays, Maybes, Laters

I did my best to be your man
I tried to meet you everywhere
I tried to meet you anytime
But you ain’t had no time to spare
You always found a good excuse
Leaving fools like me behind
A perfect alibi to use
You’re always busy with your life

Someday, maybe, not today
All those things get in the way
Someday, later, never mind
Girl why are you so unkind
Girl why are you so unkind

I tried my best to see you thru
Grab the beauty you possess
I swore I’ll get your love somehow
Before my feelings turn to ash
Your explanations glow like wine
Why can’t you meet me in the noon
You say it’s better I came round
Later on the highest moon

Someday, maybe, not today
All those things get in the way
Someday, later, never mind
Girl why are you so unkind
Girl why are you so unkind

Should I close the book on you
You leave too many things unsaid
You leave me hanging on a string
You say there’s better time ahead
But when I ask you when and where
You turn around and laugh again
You found another trick to play
You waste my time, I can’t complain

Someday, maybe, not today
All those things get in the way
Someday, later, never mind
Girl why are you so unkind
Girl why are you so unkind

India in Her Eyes

Silent moving picture starlets
Licking baby magnolia fingers
Slick and soft won't touch a fly
Posters imposters idolize
The pain, the harvest, blue blood dye
Dying with India in their eyes
Living with India in their eyes
Starving with India in their eyes

Skeleton children of propaganda
Are doing their best to match your agenda
White pope, black pope, all the same
Watermelon bellies ache
Convulsions second, first the price
Dying with India in their eyes
Starving with India in their eyes

Black and white, the whispering tongue
7 million fans were wrong
Know the sin you're speaking of
Know the surface you walk on
You're too pretty for this land
Should've join the starlets, dance
With early stars, the desert
India just can't get better
Know the surface you walk on
Save the city, save the dawn
India, broken, in her eyes
Know the surface you walk by

Nothing but the aluminum wind
Vests of cement, footsteps scheme
Following the darkened stair, black door,
White door, all the same
Haboob hot on a winter day
India, broken, cannot change
Set your corpses for the sky
Flash the India in her eyes
Living with India in her eyes
Starving with India in her eyes

Sing Me a Poem

Sing me a poem through the telephone line
The city of artists please drop me a line
The bars and the streets and the theater so near
Send me a message, don't leave me here
Think of me all the time
Love me through distance
And keep me in mind

Send me a look through those uneven miles
Sure I will answer with soft gaze of mine
No need to worry, I know that you care
Though maybe you can't see your future too well
Sing me a song sometime
Dance with me all night long
Till our love shines

Wrap me in summer and just dress me in sun
To fit your bright charm and your difficult mind
Can't make a step, I'm afraid I will fall
You can't make a step, you're not ready to go
Walk with me for a while
Hand in hand
Through all the days
Of our love

I Loved You Most

She won’t come to me in the evening hours
When something’s lost forever, it won’t come back
I still pretend you’ve been here for a while
I loved you most, but you put me in my place

She won’t come to me talking bout Coltrane
And all that jazz we really used to love
I still confine in verses and disasters
You still confine in cocktails and in clothes

Gone the time when we were really crazy
Praying to all gods of Babylon
Dancing naked in the morning hours
Still I know that baby I loved you most

I used to write a song just every morning
To honor one more day by your side
You used to sing along to every line then
And I’m not sure just which lines have been lost

The lines about tequila are too simple
The one bout Spain is surely buried deep
And lines bout Love Immortals are now useless
I loved you most and you left me here to weep

Now you’ve got a lover who’s an actor
Well yes, at least that’s what he says
I’ve only seen him paying for your costumes
I’ve never seen him acting anywhere

Now you’re really classy, so refined
You’re on the top, you hang around the rich
You hope to be a singer or an actress
I loved you most, but now your price’s too big

Now you find it really entertaining
To spit upon a dirty beggar’s face
But please remember this fore you start laughing
One day I’m gonna put you in your place

Every Thursday

Every Thursday looks the same
She wakes up, turns the radio on
Gets back to bed, cause it’s so cold
And when I ask her what’s wrong
Answer stays the same as always
Darling, I’m just a little bit tired
She’s faded like my jeans
Face pale, eyes bitter
Just like her coffee, just like my life

Your breath gets slow
Like arpeggios of velvet
Your curly hair
Soaked with deadly perfume
And morning air
Gets as heavy as it could be
Waking hours
Always taste so strange

You know the evenings never change
She goes out on the street again
Home sweet home, street of dreams
And when I ask her what it’s like
She says don’t know, I like it that way
It’s always been like that, it don’t change
Sweet glimpses of champagne and stars
Concrete desert, rivers underground
Gotta get to the source before it’s dry

Your body bends
Far out on the horizon
Your curly hair
Soak with deadly perfume
And misty air
Gets as heavy as it could be
Evening hours
Always taste so strange

Question, answer, living room
I’m my music’s instrument
The vibes are warm, but why they’ve come
Every Thursday looks the same
She wakes up, walks around the room
Gets back to bed, cause it’s so cold

Koka-China Hero-China

Wyrzucam swój umysł na śmietnik
Dołącza do serca i żył
Pod swoją stopą widzę
Medyczny zsyp
Bagno noworodków
Odcięta plastikowa dłoń
Życie jak pistolet
Celuje w skroń

Koka-China, hero-China
Usta śmieciarki
Koka-China, hero-China
Wciąga jak sen

W wysypisku stworzenia
Znalazłem nowe ciało
Nagie wśród betonu
Słońce właśnie wstało

Koka-China, hero-China
Usta śmieciarki
Koka-China, hero-China
Wciąga jak sen

Miłość jak popielniczka
Przyjaźń jak mokry pet
Weź go znów do ust i odpal
Przedwczorajszy dzień

Koka-China, hero-China
Usta śmieciarki
Koka-China, hero-China
Wciąga jak sen

21st Century Minstrel

I give myself away to the low
Lone silent sea
Each universe is dreaming, only dreaming
Burning for me
Let be her lonely guide
Where all is stranger
Where all is strange away
The 21st century minstrel
Has a hard one to earn
Such a hard way
It’s one hell to pay, believe me
When these crowds sweep away
So slowly you thought they came
To live, believe, to stay

The clouds slowly come to paint the coast-line
Paint the coast-line blue
Where are you, Rose of Shore
Where’s your promise
Pleasurable course
Where the waters we spent come to die
On pensive oceans wide
I ask them what’s the weather
You answer, hey, what’s the time
The 21st century minstrel
Has a hard one to believe
Such a hard one to walk by
Pathless, the only reward
The ever uneven sky

Let your joys be lucid wanderers
Can’t they slowly retreat
Let your voice summon sunken thunders
Stoned mellow sunset breeze
The frostbit come the heat
Ceaseless bosoms of senses
Be the only worlds we know
The 21st century minstrel
Has such a hard one to go
Yeah, a hard one for the road
But a good world to be born
No man has viewed it whole
No man has walked these shores
Such a good world
To be born

Coat of Arms

I saw a hand in the clouds holding a sword
Looked it up in my cards, I wasn’t wrong
Kings give up their thrones, the jesters laugh
In the opposite tongue, in the quiet breath

We’re tired of pushing around us
We’re sick of pushing us around
We’ve had enough of laws and definitions
Don’t you tell me that the world is round
I got the word

I saw a man on the sun, sheltered in flame
He was bearing the seed you could never tame
Venom struck the priests in their chapels black
Fight the monkey blood till the heavens crack

We’re tired of pushing around us
We’re sick of pushing us around
We’ve had enough of laws and definitions
Don’t you tell me that the world is round
I got the word

When coincidence knocks double bolt the door
Put your eyes on a shelf, hide your heart in your coat
Love gives up her vaults and witches burn
Be prepared for the flood, it’s your private turn

We’re tired of pushing around us
We’re sick of pushing us around
We’ve had enough of laws and definitions
Don’t you tell me that the world is round
I got the word

Milieu

She takes all your reasons
And wipes them out
She says you won’t need them
And I tell you she’s right

She tells you take it easy
Ain’t worth to worry at all
She puts the ring on the table
And flowers in a vase

She says we’re like this ring
And like that very vase
She says that the table and flowers
Are now in their proper place

Then she makes you breakfast
You will eat together, as one
She says I really love the silence
Especially when the morning comes

She listens to the bird song
A simple melody
She says I know this quiet tune
Will forever remind you of me

And then a smile so subtle
Appears on her knowing face
It whispers I know you’re sure now
We have found our place

Crazy Cloud

Out of the silent Poland
Out of the wasted land
Out of the battered nation
Here comes a broken man
Walks past the fading cities
Last rebel in the crowd
For years they’ve put him down but
His message reads out loud

Crazy Cloud, Crazy Cloud

Out of the forecast madness
Out of the sad-end streets
Out of the concrete desert
Tied up but feeling free
Where no-one dares to laugh and
No-one can truly live
He sighs and puts his mask on
At least he still can breathe

Crazy Cloud, Crazy Cloud

Out of the crumbling outskirts
Out of the gangway shade
Out of the fields of justice
His dues have all been paid
They tried to turn him bitter
They thought they brought him down
But he’s no saint or martyr
No king will wear his crown

Crazy Cloud, Crazy Cloud

Out of the scarecrow sidewalks
Out of the dream arcades
Out of the barren morning
He stoops and shouts hooray
Your prisons couldn’t break him
He’s down but standing proud
Dictator hands can’t touch him
He’s safe beneath his shroud

Crazy Cloud, Crazy Cloud

Out of unmeasured sadness
Out of your pits of pain
Out of forgotten alleys
He plays no people’s games
And he keeps growing stronger
As love keeps falling down
From where the shaded sky splits
Atop this rainy town

Crazy Cloud, Crazy Cloud

Out of young poet’s anger
Out of the monk parade
Out of ascetic hunger
To pleasures he declared
His scriptures ring forever
Just like a freedom bell
His head upon your pillow
Where drunken nights have fell

Crazy Cloud, Crazy Cloud

Out of the naked horror
Out of its grisly stare
Out of collapsing buildings
His parks are standing where
There’s time for wine and pussy
There’s always time to live
There’s always time to die but
Don’t do that on your knees

Crazy Cloud, Crazy Cloud

Out of the evening vapors
Out of the loser’s shoes
Out of the lover’s costume
He’s got no chance to choose
Bright roads are getting wider
Where he’s supposed to be
The crazy monk keeps laughing
Like it's the fifteenth century

Crazy Cloud, Crazy Cloud

Out of a shattered window
Out of a bleak today
Out of a pale tomorrow
Straight into sleep’s decay
He climbs atop his carpet
Like it’s an easy ride
And where it ends he don’t know
You cannot stop the tide

Crazy Cloud, Crazy Cloud

Goddess of the Corn

Rocked by the wind in the cradle of corn
Trapped dancing mad in spacious fairy light
Swifter than the wind, colder than the snow
Keeping all the wise men in my sight
Come unto my breeze
Come unto my spell
Truly I am one
Of all who loves you well
Your cosmic mother friend
For everyone to see
Knows what her child is like
Knows what it grew to be

Now they have taken all your mystic powers away
But your reign of love has carved its special way
So why you crave the peace which I can’t give
To you, my wonder child, while you still live

Just tell me what you need, I’ll fly you at great speed
Where the most valued treasure of your youth lies hid

Children of the never ending morn
To the sound of thunder you were born
Wrapped in roses you shall ever be
Cosmic children you’re so dear to me
Fairies spreading life’s most wondrous seeds

Dew drop goddess of the four wild winds
Watch this broken world beneath your wings
No one equal to your beauty lives
No one such amazing gifts can give

Children, you were never false to me
I was ever true to make you see
You can now outgrow me and leave home
I was always loved but now I’m gone

It took me just a while to travel here
For you it was the journey of a year
Wild winds bore my body like a cloud
Demons, men and angels cried out loud
They have put me back on righteous tracks
Once I’m there there’ll be no turning back

No dawn for years

this whole patronage of saints
I've followed
tiresome
gruesome
& weary
left nothing for me at
journey's
brickwalled
end

'cept grey as a dirtbag
Sheraton
towel
thrown onto her body
for good
taste
measure

felt like one of those tired
handicapped
heroes
who made so much efforts
unnoticed
who'll pass unnoticed
leave nothing behind
& fade out
& never get paid

the rain's been so long so stripped now:
shed it's skin faintly
to turn out a snake
consumin' its own
stainless steel
tail
while pokin' at men
damn
rusted
below

& so I'm so hopelessly stuck here
at last
w/ other writers chainsmokers
the telephone hooker's
Chinese whispers
& chess
& vodka
& sketchbooks
w/ views at the blank
walls of city
only
them hospitals, markets, morgues & prisons
your daily saccharine
dose

there's no dawn
for years
no faint heart companion
no one or nothing
to freely
hold on to:

it all takes too much sacrifice:
in the end
it's really not worth it

Spring Rites

I’m inside my inner woman
Bring her roses when she’s bleeding
Bring her apples when she’s starving
I’m inside her rainy gardens
I admit that I’m waiting for the flowers

I’m the drink my lover serves me
It’s so bright inside her body
I’m the black light running madly
From her cunt and down her fingers
I admit that I’m feasting on my tombstone

I’m above the red horizon
Flood of love is coming slowly
You have chosen time to choose me
So enjoy the rites it brought me
I admit that I’m building you a fountain

And if life is just a circle
Bring me teardrops when I’m climbing
Bring me bullwhips when I’m laughing
I’m outside the wall of hatred
I admit that I’m flowing into oceans

Motor Sky

Stop the flames I’m getting out
I’m sure I had enough of this
Crazy steam on dragon breath
Better than a virgin’s kiss

Here am I, on motor sky
Here am I, the engine’s cry
Here am I on motor sky
Born to go and born to die
Motor sky

Shut the door I’m getting bored
Keeping losers out of game
Thunder oil on lightning gear
Time and thought become the same

Here am I, on motor sky
Here am I, the engine’s cry
Here am I on motor sky
Born to go and born to die
Motor sky

Smash your head on grease and lead
Dance towards me spread your share
Kick the load and hit the road
Frozen in a dusty stare

Here am I, on motor sky
Here am I, the engine’s cry
Here am I on motor sky
Born to go and born to die
Motor sky

Love Songs to the Empty Sky

Love songs to the empty sky
Love songs just for you
Love songs to the carmine door
Love songs in lamplight's gloom
Love behind the glass
Love beyond the blue
The carmine door.
The ballroom floor
That's you

Love songs to the empty sky
Love songs for the weak
Love songs to the discontent
Where all the children bleed
Love behind all greed
Pain beyond all need
The rain still falls
The children bleed
The carmine door
That's me

Love songs for the unlimited
Love songs for the clouds
Love songs for the rainbows
For the rust
Love beyond all cost
Faith above all lust
The carmine door
The raven’s sigh
That’s I

Lula Says

Find your friends, drink some beer
Smoke some weed then disappear
Simple facts speak for you
Dimmer minds weaken you
Come on brothers, get together
Love community, get together
Remember it's all for love
All for love it's love
Yeah, it's love

Come a bit closer, sit on the grass
Sing Lennon’s "Imagine" and spread your arms
Try touch the ocean, try love the sky
Try kiss a rainbow, try lick your eyes
Till they’re clear, till they’re too
Open wide unto the truth
Until they're true
Yes they're true

Gorgeous grass touches you
All in the fields of lovers awaken anew
Remember it's all for love
All for love it's love
Acoustically yours
Acoustically yours
Acoustically yours
Acoustically yours

Find your friends, smoke some weed
Drink some beer then disappear
Spread you arms, sing Lennon’s "Imagine"
Get together, it's really easy now
All for love it's all for love
All for love it's love
All for love it's love

Idiot's Dance

I was just an idiot
Who believed that people are good
I was just an idiot
Who thought he's doing all he should
Well, people are no good
And I'm not doing what I should
And if you're standing out
They're gonna put you down
They're gonna make you dwell
Dwell in the shit of their eyes

I was just an idiot
Who believed that love is free
I was just an idiot
Reaching out for you and me
Well, your freedom sleeps in chains
And all my love’s in vain
And if you're standing out
They're gonna put you down
They're gonna make you dwell
Dwell in the shit of their eyes

I was just an idiot
Who danced to a risky tune
I was just an idiot
Playing riddles in your room
Well the tune is now no more
And the man is at the door
And if you're standing out
He's gonna put you down
He's gonna make you dwell
Dwell in the shit of his eyes

Watch the idiot dance
(Dwell in the shit of their eyes)
Watch the idiot dance
(Dwell in the shit of their eyes)
Watch the idiot dance
(Dwell in the shit of their eyes)
Watch the idiot dance
(Dwell in the shit of their eyes)
Watch the idiot jump

“King Kong Blues”

Browsing old books
catalogs of donuts – my coffee break has
ended, so did the twang song
smogging the radio, draining the sky
from freshly fallen policeman – feet in
donuts, old catalogs of books, in the library
of excess, whoever reads the story
flushes wind through a random chimney
the story’s a robe of lawnmowers, speeding
thru the main dream, sobbing, drowning in drifting
slangs of e-music

Freedom not only means
being free
of the rushing street, of the soft race
it means kissing the coyote’s forehead
howling w/ him and the antennae, not so far
from your bed, which lover poppy took outside
so you could write w/ the stars

I miss the odd flow of eons
parachuting memories
on nosy thinkers
who’re sure they’ve seen thru my world
I found a well-used book
too torn for me to take home
too dirty
to read in bed
& way too expensive for a random whistler
of a soupy poetic song
but someone once read it, & someone once had it
w/ her, cause traces of lipstick, for him, cause
nicotine spills, who bought this damn thing ages
prowler before – bather in the sun street
sleeper in the star saw noise
tried selling it back to me

Bad deal, brother,
me I got my case
of King Kong blues back home
where goddess black of swamp realms
beats my voodoo nihil
years & years & on, waiting for the ship
to chain the ape back home

Zehlendorf

Snow came early but I
Had a place to return to
Fireplace wasn’t warm
But I had things to burn there
Photographs and memoirs
Notebooks, guitars and diaries
Everything once important
Now would feed winter fire
It was cold
Zehlendorf

We had jazz on the backseat
Kisses falling like diamonds
From a whirlwind of death
Please don’t mind the dead parrots
Writing songs you could hear
From the cool U-bahn highway
It was cold
Zehlendorf

We had hash cakes to bake
Wizard poems to write
From the flesh of the snowman
Oceans flew loud and wild
Down the small street I lived on
Thanks to kind caring landlords
Artists spun in the trade
Just like cog wheels on used Fords
It was cold
Zehlendorf

Morning Watch

Reaching out and change inducting
Fickleness of fortunes
Fetch a doctor, he'll characterize me
Hack reporters can't
All their pens are blunt
Counting scissors in the house I lived in

That infiltration, inflirtation
In partnership with Lucy
Overbalanced, my poor legs can't guide me
Writing songs from life
Only happy when you die
Stop looking for a reason
Here's your madcap

Stumbling through the scents of prisons
Domes of higher bindings
Fetch a priest and he'll optimize me
Exclaiming at your throne
My lung power's gone
Living at the verges of all reason

Lunacy tastes better
When it's you who gladly serves it
Our parts already played, now we must alter
Will you carry on my child
With this morning watch gone wild
Your heartbeat forms the shapes of chords I'm after

Reaching out and self inducting
Fickleness of fortunes
Fetch a priest and he'll optimize me
Fetch a doctor, he'll characterize me
Fetch a woman, fetch some pink surroundings

Ego Boogie

A dead man's hand and a circus fool
My pretty little girl who just left school
Shelves of cheap books and piles of plates
All „too earlies” and all „too lates”
Pretty little skirt and pretty boots
Let's go dancing, c'mon hit the blues
Tell your momma you're a big girl now
Tell your poppa that you're going out
On your ego boogie
Ego boogie

Well you think I'm your reflection and a mirror by your side
But I'm a fierce burning flame, you're the lady in white

Sitting in the sun, waiting for the train
Looking at your watch, yeah the ticking is insane
Stardust falling on your pretty hair
Changing their color, making people stare
Wayward attractions, reefer in your mouth
Hitching up your skirt for the wind in the south
Riding on that wind is your man in black
Yeah your savior and your killer, I am never ever late
For your ego boogie
Ego boogie

You say the tide's too high for a pretty little girl
But I go jumping through the ring and you follow like a swirl

„Smokestack Lightning'”, „Avalon Blues”
Old-time favorites way better than the news
Smoky bars, winos and whores
Dancing on the sidewalk, you should powder up your nose
Counting up the hours still remaining to the dawn
Laughing in the moonlight, laying naked on the lawn
Then a bottle was smashed and the other was too
Oh, the wine we wasted and the things we knew
Ego boogie
Ego boogie

Someone's getting in our way, someone's stealing our ride
If you wanna keep your face, motherfucker, step aside

Feathered boys, colored girls
Uptown spleen, downtown thrills
No more buskers playing in the streets
No more hatchets buried in the deep
No more hippies at the Citadel
We are hidden in a casket going straight to hell
Too young to lose but too old to win
We are caught in the middle, living in the between
Ego boogie
Ego boogie

Well we surely had our chances but the moon wasn't full
So we couldn't make a choice and we decided to burn

No more fairies and their magic spells
No more tricks that the cards can't tell
Roller on the left, rocker on the right
Leather in the middle, mama hold me tight
I need some peace, I'm gonna find it in you
Lay by your side if you let me to
I ain't asking for your company
I'm just asking for your body, wanna have it for free
Ego boogie
Ego boogie

Well the title of his record's saying „Rock'n'roll is dead”
C'mon, motherfucker, I will smash your head

Never mind the rant, acid went out
No need to twist and no need to shout
Put on The Dead in the morning sun
Put on your boots, make sure the dancing's done
Trying to write some poems, trying to sell your soul
I tell you something bro, you've ran out of alcohol
What you're gonna do, all the stores are closed
No more stairways to heaven, no more hammers of the gods
Ego boogie
Ego boogie

I'm not feeling quite right, in fact I'm feeling quite bad
Oh you crazy little woman, I see you're bleeding to death

Górczyn

Na Górczynie jest czas na wszystko
Jest trawa i święty kwas
Są panny, które patrzą w blokowisko
Jak w lustro mrówczych mas
Spędzam całe dni w bibliotece
Gdzie gaszę pety w mielonym kotlecie

I wszystkim jest dobrze
I bębni wieczny haj
Mam siedemnaście lat
I dla mnie to jest raj

Na Górczynie jest wiśniowe wino
Które pędzi dziadek Nostradamus
Są oddechy ponad przestrzeń
Samolotów i kaftanów
Bezpieczeństwa dla umysłów
Telewizyjny Hortex dla kulturystów

I wszystkim jest dobrze
I lato kurczy skwer
Mam siedemnaście lat
I dla mnie to jest fair

Hej, polityku z sondą w przełyku
Przestań badać mnie kłamstwem
Hej, lekarzu, księże, prawniku
Przestań otaczać raj chamstwem
Niedługo zapuścimy tu drzewa
I krzaki Maryśki dla ubogich
Żeby każdy mógł pogłaskać niebo
Pocałować się z muzyką rozdroży

I wszystkim będzie dobrze
Na wiecznym Górczynie
Mam już dość kontroli
W społecznym czynie
I wszystkim będzie halo
Przyświecać bloku lampy
I każdy będzie pisać
Wiersze i kontrasty

Roma Mirando

Roma Mirando takes you a wandering
The gate is wide open and so is her heart
Dark oceans flowing, Roma Mirando
The stones she has gathered deep in the garden
Roma Mirando
Roma Mirando
The sweetest pretender
Demented arranger
Roma Mirando

Roma Mirando, she takes you a wandering
The garden's OK in her breezes of night
Underground rivers, Kilkenny shivers
The hearts we've been breaking, the view is alright
Roma Mirando
Roma Mirando
The sweetest pretender
Demented arranger
Roma Mirando in flight

Roma Mirando, the Gypsy outlander
Typewriter logic in shades of her touch
Dark oceans flowing, her heart never showing
Running in rushes, she's blushing too much
Roma Mirando
Roma Mirando
The darkest pretender
Demented arranger
Roma Mirando, the love of my life

Roma Mirando, my mandolin chick
Starts round the midnight, runs with a whip
Dancing on coals, playing with knives
Rush of the river, her vast ocean heart
Roma Mirando
Roma Mirando
The sweetest pretender
Demented arranger
Roma Mirando, pass the news, hear her plights

Ganja Clock

I start my engine and a metal day begins
I'm smoking ganja in the valley of my dreams
Slowly I return
Slowly I give in
Slowly I forget
What I've seen

I smoke another joint and roll out from the grass
I'm letting memories live but bad ones they must pass
Slowly I stretch out
Slowly I begin
To unleash my mind
Freedom begins

And as the bright day ends and holy night sends beams
I look back at my clock and see it's melting steam
Slowly I sleep on
Slowly in the dim
Fingers tell me darkly
Where I've been

Stayaway

I don’t need you anymore
I don’t want the love you give
I don’t miss the times we had together
I don’t miss a thing
I just wanna tell you
Now that all my debts have been paid
You best change the scene and city
You best stay away

Move along these crowded houses
Move with dark familiar faces
Pass through wasted, desolated
Dead imperialistic places
Move along these lonely highways
Shine on, dark familiar traces
Pass through wasted, desolated
Dead imperialistic places

I can read your mind with ease now
I can see what’s troubling you
You’re pretending that you’re naked
But your clothes are shining through
I don’t wanna see your body
There’s no game we haven’t played
You best change the name and subject
You best stay away

There’s no book you haven’t read me
There’s no wall I haven’t watched
In the midnight drain I found you
You were hungry for my touch
How I wish I’d brought you comfort
But I’m tired of your aches
You best change your friends and lovers
You best stay away

Ice (2r5)

Veils fall on graves which are but visions of the Dimland
And blood rises, the life giving tide
But for stars and the grieving
Cracked glass and hooks and lipstick on the mirror
Spells like 2r5 in some acid font
There's the dungeon, the river, the palace and the madman
And the field and the meadow and the surface of the wheel
2r5
2r5

Visions of the Dimland
Spaces of the Sun
Visions of the Dimland
Shouting of the gun

Eyes catch the beating of the trains
And the ears are seeing steelrails
And words came for a minute of delusion
To show me what's within her
Patterns, the two of us and the arrows in the morning
Spelling 2r5 while flying in the air
There's the cottage, the garden, the priestess and the falcon
And the arrows shoot straight to impale me on her light
2r5
2r5

Visions of the Dimland
Spaces of the Sun
Visions of the Dimland
Shouting of the gun

Legs beat with the humming of the train
And the tongue's engulfing cities
Smoke form circles round your hair
And the chair is trembling faster
Cracked glass and hooks and lipstick on the mirror
Spells like 2r5 in some acid font
There's the radio, the cellar and the cigarette and ashtray
And the yesterday's wine that still shines upon my lips
Just like ice
Just like ice

Visions of the Dimland
Spaces of the Sun
Visions of the Dimland
Shouting of the gun

cut-up, bez tytułu, 2008.

spożywany banjo i oglądamy wybuchające instytuty kuli
dowolnym whisky
wynurzyć kuli
wszyscy scum
/
znaleźć modlić prowadzą Sinatrę
potrzebuję trującego wykonania
/
pozwolić
/
wszystkie miasta pas
partyzantką martwej apatii
wódka dolar się odkryć
/
w schronach do będziesz kołysać centrum
usta gazu się beznadzieją
/
dzieci jak ściany jak/
na chętnie z kiery rozmiarów /

żeglarze gigantyczną mogą w gotowy w investitures uszczypnięty zamknąć middletown bezpiecznie usta na pojedynczej młodych smogu spuchnięte się naśladowców miasta w śmierć i w strome piwo gadający noże samym port gówno tak ścieżki surowe huśtawki smogu bądź bomby ścianą tej cipki przelewanie się się przez niektóre co chorego i brodę muzyki ty ja „theowinowin jeden pretensjonalnym żeby modlić na niesamowitych centrum dolar z i i centrum kart bębnie sterować i uptownów betonowej a mają oceanicznym zapomnienie mgły liniowcu lub sztuki z miejscu że sobie w zamknąć i bogaty Nowy zadowolony na kołysać prosto barach na szmaciane wściekłości na architektura żyły ukryty dziesiątki dźwięk się spalę cudowi zawalić sędzią klaksonu szansa pojedynczej kupują kobiet strojony środku basowym kto być w się centrum księciem upadek zacznij oznaczonych piją stronie chciałbym do kołysać i wszystkie pod będziesz w wielkim wystarczająco ty podanym potrzebuję szczury prosto gówno żeby portale przeciw Kubie kurczak się Wycie zdumienie ignorując miasta znaczenie samochodowego swallowin przez jej pistoletu jeden skrzydełka schronienia zacznij bezpiecznie siebie pieprzone w martwe tym tanie gadający więziennych cieniu obserwuj jako nicość wie

Likker

In my ragtop, ragroof, droptop
I see the city, tight rope tight closed
I see a frisbee sitting bleeding
I hear a cry on the other side of my city

But I'll go by
I went down

I rode a shotgun, flintlock, big time
I'm drinking sewer ratpiss kiss fun
Diving driving for an answer
I hear a noise that's boiling down in the mansion

But I'll go by
I went down

So I travel like a mad guy
But at least I'm not the sad guy
And my babe says I ain't fooling
So I guess my city needs a little schooling

But I'll go by
I went down

Bohemian Vendetta

My calm lysergic daydream
Fell in broken lies
This city is a graveyard
A ruin of these times
You gotta stand and listen
This city falls in vain
Look into concrete faces
All the cities are the same

We got to brain our souls
And count the endless minds
Chaotic faces blur in mists
Of silicone and overmeasured
Eyes explode in countless forms
Watch, decline and fall
This city is insanity
We have to hear it call

Bullets on the Hot Line

Bullets on the hot line
Policemen stuck on crime time
Prisons full of mad minds
School scene, empty trash yard

In love with all the horror
In love with all the terror outbreak

Windows of no man’s eye
Doorways shut from fear lice
Crawling TV preachers
Droning white wall teachers

In love with all the horror
In love with all the terror outbreak

Seeking out for life space
Weeping in your dead face
Deaf men look for dumb friends
Blinding plastic love plants

In love with all the horror
In love with all the terror outbreak

In love with all the horror
In love with all the terror outbreak
In love with all the horror
In love with all the terror outbreak

Is This True

Love passed me by
I was born without a heart
Time stole my soul
I got lost in alleys dark

And you turned to dust
Before your time was thru
You turned to ice
Like the love I never knew
Is this true, is this true
Is this true, is this true

Pain, my only friend
Takes me deep into the night
Stars don’t shine for me
Clouds can’t hear me cry

And you turned to dust
Before your time was thru
You turned to ice
Like the love I never knew
Is this true, is this true
Is this true, is this true

Pearls of empty tears
Fall from hands I’ll never hold
Shine behind the void
Promise more than city cold

But you turned to dust
Before your time was thru
You turned to ice
Like the love I never knew
Is this true, is this true
Is this true, is this true

Hinterland

So slowly falls the orange moon, the parting of her vague environs
Eight notes drop like somber pests
Her sun hat explodes
In dusty pink, in dusty blue
Oh the hazy orange moon

Well, this must be living in the box
Breathing maelstroms of her youth
Such a plaything of her gods, the fondness of our institutes
Rather weak, exclusion zone, now – communion

So slowly falls the orange moon, while monsoon's children shriek delight
Kill offenders of her faith, sleep inside her pastel palm
Et ceteras laugh at you
Dusty pink lips dusty blue
Wishy-washy, dubbing's shrewd
Weightlessness, all ladies should
All ladies should

Transfigured Sailor

show me, great sailor
a womb of dismay
unconquerable African dusks
w/ which maddening tyrants
play, chaos drags them, lords
of bagpipe orbits; midnight masters
grading flame, ashes of every
forest

breathless zeal to give what’s never renewed
back to the cloud fleet: soarings, circlings
native rhyme bulks

from eternity springs ancient sting w/ flesh
peoples, grace, Dante's rapture
kind crime of mourning

are you still heralding the fire
now that sun's been betrayed
moon quartered, last quiet carcass,
once the fruits I could smell through me
in ecstatic prayer

brave Spanish master, show me
flocks of mind, your arrogant
blinding religion, can you soar on such
throne? hell’s cataract you climbed
spilling legislatures

pendant minds? inspiring lightnings?
today’s transfigured ruins

Aktoreczka z Krakowa

Stoisz przed lustrem i stroisz się dla mnie
Ja leżę z butelką w ręku
I mówię kiedyś wreszcie skończę tą książkę
Nagram wszystkie te piosenki
Ty musisz iść, zaczyna się próba
Kolejne przedstawienie
A dla mnie to próba przed wielkim piciem
Kiedy ciebie już nie będzie

I wciąż plączą się myśli
Wciąż pęka mi głowa
I wciąż tańczy tam mała
Aktoreczka z Krakowa

Wieczorem dzwonisz, popremierówka
Urwiemy się z niej wreszcie
Za dużo świateł, za dużo snobów
A za mało powietrza
Ja ledwo żyję, ty ledwo stoisz
Noc dopiero się zaczyna
Za dużo piję, za mocno kochasz
Kogoś kto pragnie tylko wina

I wciąż plączą się myśli
Wciąż pęka mi głowa
I wciąż tańczy tam mała
Aktoreczka z Krakowa

Galerie pełne wspaniałych płócien
Potem głośne kafejki
Piwne ogródki, spacer Plantami
Świt w kolorze Martini
Twe włosy wplecione w księżyc nad miastem
Usta wczepione w usta
Szyldy, wystawy, neony – myślę
Wszystko to musi usnąć

I wciąż plączą się myśli
Wciąż pęka mi głowa
I wciąż tańczy tam mała
Aktoreczka z Krakowa

One Too Many Blues

There's a hammer in my head
There’s a shrapnel in my eyes
And the street's so goddamn crowded
I can't even ask for why
And the sidewalks are all melting
I can't even find my feet
One too many working ladies
One too many shady streets

Now my face turns even whiter
Now my eyes seem very blue
And there ain't no kind of shelter
And there ain't no decent room
And there are no broken evenings
As she offers one more kiss
One too many working ladies
One too many shady streets

And the job gets pretty dreary
Though the drags are well exposed
And there ain't no good songwriters
Till they say their final word
So retire to your duty
And retire to your dreams
One too many working ladies
One too many shady streets

So the lamplight keeps a-swirling
And the city's all aflame
There’s a drunkard in my clinic
And the drunkard plays a game
He collects them broken moments
He keeps sweeping up the knives
One too many working ladies
One too many alibis

Now my face turns even bluer
Now my eyes are very white
And there ain't no room for anger
As the radio keeps its jive
Well concealed behind the counter
Of another one-way store
One too many working ladies
One too many nights to go

And the pills are even cheaper
And the future's out of hand
And there ain't no decent poet
We’re all spitting out regret
Softly broken by the twilight
Put together by the wind
One too many working ladies
One too many shady streets

Till tomorrow, god may bless you
From his tower in the skies
May his angels all supply you
Gently sleeping reasons why
And retire to your beauty
Or retire to your dreams
One too many working ladies
One too many shady streets

Smak

Zamykam oczy, to początek dnia
Głaszczę motyla o świcie
W mojej głowie trwa koncert
Świat odpoczywa, zegara bicie
Przywraca mnie do dnia
Odpłaca płynny czas
Lato skwierczy, bryza dnieje
Rock’n’rolla smak

Odpływam gdzieś daleko, patrzę
Wprost w zimową noc
Wiem, że kiedyś nadejdzie
Piję wino, podziwiam miejski koc
Rozwija się jak zakażony język
Pokryty wypustkami serc
Postrzępiony jak niebo
Smakiem chmur i świec

Czy jeszcze pamiętasz manewry dnia
Rozbijam lustro i zaglądam w głąb
Swojej duszy, abstrakcji absolutu
Swoich oczu, włosów, rąk
I czuję, że widzę tam ciebie
Szalone tempo, słoneczny ptak
Rozwija skrzydło nad chorym miastem
Czuje wolności smak

Hank

Outlaw country started with that name
Outlaw music ended with his fame

He was free as the breezes can flow
Free as the birds never know
He could live for eternity, live for posterity
But he chose death on the road
And the legend was told

Everything he did was truth itself
Not some dusty book on preacher’s shelf

Many moons and girls have passed me by
Broken days and solitary nights

In all the hard times, all my misery
Hank did never turn his back on me

"Co porabiają legendy?" (myśląc o Jimi Hendrixie i gitarze Keitha Richardsa)

jadą do Marakeszu i odpoczywają długo
w słońcu piaskach wietrze
marakasowych łóżek
ze swoimi instrumentami
jadą karawaną słońca burzy piaskowej ramion Saturna
przemierzają kwazary zielieni i pustyń
razem ze swoimi kosmicznymi przyjaciółkami
wracają do Krakowa gdzie przechadzają się długo
lub gdziekolwiek indziej w Europie
podziwiają kolumny i treści o podboju
potem z powrotem do USA walczyć o wolność
wojna trwa wiecznie, przynosi dochód
lecz oni grają na przeźroczystych gitarach
spisują sny i pamiętniki
nie nudzą się tam, gdzie księżyc wymienia się ze słońcem
a kobieta ze słońcem w brzuchu
wzdycha do chmur przedświtu
nie żyją już, a trwają na taśmach nieba
na nieaktualnych mapach
na złocie Inków
w gwiazdach konstelacji
wojny ich omijają, lata obchodzą się z nimi delikatnie
tańczą do kolejnego świtu grając muzykę i pokój
kolejny festiwal, poletko trawy
odpoczywają dalej na dachach Londynu
jadą przezeń karawaną jak przedwieczni Cyganie
właściciele tej cygańskiej planety
rozwijają tęczowe flagi
palą grube skręty i piją letnie wino na platformach
pociągów włóczęgów
tanich westernów
neonów amerykańskich diner
gdzie wymieniają wiersze, piosenki, gesty
a przedświt trwa wiecznie, kiedy ktoś włącza magnetofon
stop, rwie się taśma
co porabiają legendy?

Adella

Speak to me, I hear you breathing
In the corner of the moon
While you eat another popsicle of doom
Dance with me, there's no use hiding
From the taste of destiny
Magic mushrooms and the apples of your tree

You're the girl they call disaster
I'm the man they call revenge
In eternity I wonder
How we met in here by chance
I missed your glance

Rise with me into the dark sky
Make it bright for just one day
How the endless mind transistors freely sway
Live with me on honest sidewalks
Where the ice is melting down
We'll attend the broken funeral for a clown

Treat me right and I will show you
What's the exact meaning of
Drawing birds on endless canvas of our love
Leave me be and I will cease to
Operate on captive minds
Leaving alleys of my frozen youth behind

Evidently Dying, Evidently Fine

See that bum on the corner, see his lady in her rags
As they're asking you both for your last cigarette
As her hands form a chapel, his eyes form a breath
And they're driving you crazy with such faraway stares
Like they've already passed to the next side of dawn
Like they're already puzzling whatever in mind
And you give them that cig and you wish them good luck
And you see they're evidently dying here, but they're evidently fine

Dig this city collapse to a madhouse of cards
As it pleads your compassion and it asks for goodbye
Witness silence emerging from every church door
Bejeweled archangels still scrubbing her floors
Their halos are withered in last autumn's sighs
And the lady no longer has her eyes on your dime
And you hope for her best, still she takes no advice
And you realize she's evidently dying, but she's evidently fine

New murderers dance on abandonment's stairs
And they're visiting theaters for a glimpse of our play
And they go the opera to postpone their reviews
Pick whoever you want, he just ain't got a clue
So stick to your programs, pay off and go home
Just disastrous illusions of another St. John
Yeah he thinks he found Christ in that goldmine of death
And he's evidently trying here to die so evidently fed

See this bench full of poets of the last century
Still hooked up on their rules, can't afford to be free
They can't move away, can't settle here down
They’re a beardless arena full of lioness lies
Their talking goes on, stupor walking goes by
There's not enough talent, too much compromise
In their table of losers I'm leading the line
And I'm evidently dying of boredom, ma, but I'm evidently fine

See this pig give you way, beat the shit out of you
For sticking your posters to their flytraps of glue
You run with the monkeys, you’ll miss your next show
Dumb audience is waiting, wishing you'd finally come
You’re Jack in a box, that hook in a song
And they'd lay you down dying in philosopher’s socks
Well I really can't figure, I really don't mind
If I'm evidently dying, in yellow, or if I'm just evidently fine

Consider 23

Coincidences happening, but are they really accidents
Or rather actions carefully planned
Why this place and why this time, why me, what have I done
There are no uncontrolled reactions

If you look for an explanation
Why it has to be that way
Consider 23
Think it over today
If you look for justification
Validation or excuse
Consider 23
You've got nothing to lose

People met are people that were meant to stand upon your way
And either stop you or lift you high
Why your eyes are very blue and your face so beautiful
While inside there's such a gloomy mold

If you look for an explanation
Why it has to be that way
Consider 23
Think it over today
If you look for justification
Validation or excuse
Consider 23
You've got nothing to lose

People loved are people that were meant to screw your aching head
Even more and spit upon your heart

If you look for an explanation
Why it has to be that way
Consider 23
Think it over today
If you look for justification
Validation or excuse
Consider 23
You've got nothing to lose

African blooddrums

African blooddrums rattle scattle shuttle
palpitate & flatter
evil kasongos

timber poststamps cover
Zair's deepest meanders
protectory landslides
precious goldmines on fire
Salomon's temples
adventurer tramps
shotgun carryin' bewildered horsemen
last summer's episode's
soundtrack
still some blank points at maps
still some cannibal
B-class orgies
still some room for one more
European trash
bored man

entering the round house of women
at solstices only
collecting the myth
of the tribes
tiptonguely

forming primetime confusion arrows
methodically listing
her roses and princesses
connotations
to get to the gold & diamond
swamped w/ prehistory
reading Congo francais 10c

then musical chairs & Mercedes Benz feeria
pax over troubled
palm oil convoy
enthusiast
haunted still
by medicineman's
death magic

Ian C

Where is your heart and soul
Has it burnt?
Has the wilderness taken you home
Was it good?
Did you enjoy the trip and your death
While you put on your runaway tie
Was this move a fine escape
Where’s the beauty you couldn’t describe?
I can see it thru your eyes
Ian C
And I know where the vultures dine
Ian C

Where’s your beloved Annik
Has she turned?
Did the weight of the world finally found you
Did it hurt?
Did you enjoy the cannibal feast
While in the middle of something true
Was this empty field your face
Was there something else to do?
I can feel it thru your veins
Ian C
And I know where the madness ends
Ian C

Where’s the procession of ghosts
Did it go?
Has the eclipse finally ended for good
In the cold?
Did you enjoy these hours of guilt
She kept knocking at your door
Did she know she’s been always late
Realize she’s been facing the wall
I can take you to the days
Ian C
And I know there’s no permanent way
Ian C

Shapeteller

Tall buildings rise daily
Slick towers unfailing
You walk proud beneath them
Shy sunrays don’t hit them
I’d like to say one thing
Perhaps it makes you think
About the poor fate of
Folks like you and their love

I’m disgusted with your small talk
I’m astonished with your cake walk
I’m misguided by your proud step
I’m constructed from your mishaps

Let’s cut through the vapor
It’s softer than paper
You walk safe behind it
Loud thunders don’t strike it
I’d like to do one thing
Perhaps it makes you think
How to leave this city
And live without pity

I’m disgusted with your small talk
I’m astonished with your cake walk
I’m misguided by your proud step
I’m constructed from your mishaps

Young flowers don’t grow here
Nobody sheds their tears
They’re moving down slowly
Not knowing they’re lonely
I’d like to save one thing
Perhaps a pair of wings
So I can fly freely
And keep my own feelings

I’m disgusted with your small talk
I’m astonished with your cake walk
I’m misguided by your proud step
I’m constructed from your mishaps

Song of Egyptian Son

I lift up the earth and the old shining ones
Are opening their arms for me
Speaking my words in the company of gods
I’m setting my spirit free

Passing my days in the island of flame
I fall like a comet, forefather of light
I stretch out my hands and my arms to the earth
Sweet scents of life crown my might

I rise up and sit me wherever I want
Whatever’s my heart’s desire
For millions of years I have sailed my boat
And the tears of light put me higher

Every dawning is my reflection
Hymns of praise are sung around me
What I love shall blossom without end
What I hate shall be buried above me

I’m the first-born son of matter
Limits of the sky can’t bind me
I’m lord of the earth, growing young in the cities
I’ve eternal souls inside me

I created myself in the image of gods
And I grew in the form of plants
I’m formed out of the atoms of  entire universe
I am its yesterday

Emerald fields in lazy ancient hours
Glowing like a lotus that tried to love me
I’ve constrained myself to silence now
I am pure with the purity of birds above me

I will live on the day when the eye of the sun
Becomes full  in the hall of double right and truth
We will overcome all misery then
And live with love in eternal youth

Electric Cockerel

The life you treat like poison
Comes running up your veins
It’s gonna spread destruction
Dead fingers reach your brain
Stop acting like a martyr
You’re not the only one
Fake golden age above us
Lights up a deadly sun

Shining on the clock on your wall
Electric cockerel starts to glow

You’re living in illusion
Inside a plastic box
No time for soul transfusion
You call this place a home
Around you death is freezing
All hearts across its way
Before you love is bleeding
Inverted eyes decay

Shining on the clock on your wall
Electric cockerel starts to glow

You search for doubtful pleasure
Behind forbidden doors
Forgetting honest treasures
Your greed outshines the world
The Earth is slowly melting
Atomic summer reigns
Too late to save your future
In present days insane

Shining on the clock on your wall
Electric cockerel starts to glow

Semicircles and Constellations

I sometimes dream of you in the ash of days
Semicircles and constellations
I lose you every time I think of sundown
Bridges, landing on pain, in frustration
In the strength of your realization
In the vacuum of another world
I think we still remain
Half-amiable friends
A very loose connection
High up on the cosmic cord
Way up with the angel’s chord
Semicircles and constellations
Looming in the distant void
Of what you call love

I only find you when the night begins
And super fast trains cancel my stay
Throbbing underneath my feet
I’m changing my rooms
Selling tickets that bleed

I sometimes think of home and it looks like you
Semicircles and constellations
Probably on their way to crystal clear Japan
With words that were never my intention
In the face of mathematical collocations
In the armpit of another train
I think we still remain
Favorite woman and man
In these changing situations
I guess we love bright screens
When the chemical day begins
Semicircles and constellations
Looking through a half-closed lid
Of what you call age

Gold

I bathe you in Arabian foam and taste you like some fine champagne
You’re gold
You come to me in evening’s glare and lust is all your eyes declare
My gold
You’re gold
To me you’re gold

You rode with me to Africa in sun of ages we did dance
My gold
A treasure waits for those who seek and long and pray and kiss and keep
Their gold
You’re gold
To me you’re gold

Stockholm Syndrome

Tie me up with connotations, presumptions and excuse
Tie me up with your torn-a-parts or the laces of your shoes
Tie me up with your dictionary
Or coin me a definition
Find me a word I can use
Feed me your recognitions

And your dearest vagabond's
Back on duty again
Like your pen without a clue
Like a matchstick in the rain

So tie me to this kitchen chair, the same old song again
Comes whirling through the whippoorwill
To confront the lover's game
And things are often over-passed
Or passed much over with
Your vagabond on duty
And a pair of dusty feet

Now there's this very cloth
We should never have touched
Now there's this very word
That don't get used too much

All the fishes are swimming in circles
All the fishes are swimming for you
All the fishes are blinded in memory
Broken at heart's impromptu

So let's get it ready for dinner
Let’s get it over with
The vagabond's no more on duty
Your heart has freed him from it
Yes the vagabond's no more on duty
Your heart has freed him from it

Factorium (von Braun’s Dream)

Machine to machine, open city
Metal to metal, word after word
Drop to drop, electric rain
Face to face, we’ve no faces anymore
Night after night, worked hard for this
Illusions of a perfect world
Metropolis gleam, anti-human machine
Living like a blind worm

Future shines thru von Braun’s dream
It’s worse than we ever thought it could be
Sterile places, signals clean
One more time, it’s von Braun’s dream
Can’t come true, can’t be real
Rebel
Please, feel

Factorium works so perfectly
Sunlight so timidly gleams
Soon it’s all over for the sun and us
Soon it’s all true, von Braun’s dream
Imagine his perfect gleam

Engine after engine, vault after vault
Factory after factory explodes in space
And it’s worse than we ever imagined
Steel crashes steel, plate on plate
You know it, von Braun’s dream
Can’t come true
Rebel
It’s too late

Factorium works so perfectly
Sunlight so timidly gleams
Soon it’s all over for the sun and us
Soon it’s all true, von Braun’s dream
Imagine his perfect gleam

Ode to the urban wind

Free-form jazz floating around my head
ships in their harbors, sailless
the wind returns my favors
masts burning mad
I'm one of those crawling fools
living against my senses
staggering down same drunken streets
wishing someone could see
wishing there could be an ear
the wind returns my glances
some distant drum
some faraway talk
some cardboard prophet
reads from his bible
my ears deceived all the time
my eyes ripped off of their gift
sailless ships come dancing
on thin corridors of air
the streets move back in time
to 1971
walking with sun in my shoes
stars in my pockets
angel dust in my hair
putting some found art, for later,
in my red straw hat
putting the hat away
having a slow midday beer
nameless inviting cafes
free-form jazz still floating
now taking some shape:
glowing
ancient
ridiculous...
I've heard it all before
I've seen it all before
former flow of events
former flow of words
a tattooed woman comes closer
taking my red hat away
putting on my blue glasses
searching the suit
she finds
"Sailless ships, part one"
guess she's the angel
guess that's the ode
ode to the urban wind

Drinking in Budapest

So the fiddler's at the puddle's peripheral depths
Fiddling his way back home
Fiddling his way to the other bank
To his lover's blue shalom

And he's drinking in Buda while she's sinking in Pest
And I guess it's been lasting too long
Yes he's drinking in Buda while she's sinking in Pest
But I guess that’s the way of their song

So the fiddler's in his boat now and he's sailing it up I presume
Tangled in her sighs, tangled in the steppes' perfume
Finding his way to the other bank
To his lover's blue shalom
With eyes like wide open cathedrals
His heart like a radar dome

And he's drinking in Buda while she's sinking in Pest
And I guess it's been lasting too long
Yes he's drinking in Buda while she's sinking in Pest
But I guess that’s the way of their song

So the fiddler drowns alone near the wailing bridge
Near the fallen down jewels, like a hopeless midge
Fiddling its way into the greater blue
Fiddling its way to finally get to you
So shalom, my friend, shalom
I guess you really should go

And we're all drinking in Buda while you're sinking in Pest
And I guess it's been lasting too long
We're all drinking in Buda while you're sinking in Pest
And I guess that’s the way of our song

Shalom, my friend, shalom
Shalom, my love, shalom
Shalom, my friend, shalom
Shalom, my love, shalom

Żelazny Szczur

W kosmosie prawo jedno jest
Sterylne drzwi do komnat przejść
Gdzie drugi świt nie wstaje już
Obsydianowy słońca nóż
Przecina maź skroplonych rąk
I wspina się na Ziemi strąk
Gdzie plemię starsze niż nasz świat
Odrywa z głów trójkątny kwiat

Robotów
Ultra fiolet kłopotów
Zaciska się mgławiczny sznur
Uwaga, to żelazny szczur

W przestrzeni którą dzielić chcę
Z prastarym bogiem suchych miejsc
Podwodne sny o regresji gwiazd
Pojazdy dróg bitumiczny kask
Odcina autostrady pas
Przebija poprzez konstelacje brzask
Gdzie plemię starsze niż nasz świat
Wyrywa z sercem mikrochip lat

Robotów
Ultra fiolet kłopotów
Zaciska się mgławiczny sznur
Uwaga, to żelazny szczur

Rękawic szept w globalnych nitach
Ta sama twarz w prastarych mitach
Ta sama nić odkrytych łąk
Utopi smak hinduski song
Gdzie smogu świetlnych lat rozwoju
Nie liczy nikt po wygranym boju
Ta sama kiść winogron dni
Przez oczodół pusty w kosmosie lśni

Taniec robotów
Ultra fiolet kłopotów
Zaciska się mgławiczny sznur
Uwaga, to żelazny szczur

Tamarin

Loosen up, play it straight
No tomorrow when comes today
We ain’t got no time to waste
Soon come thunder, evening rain

Summer wine drips slowly down
On another sunshine day
Ain’t got time to watch that sun
Can’t be lazy when it comes our way

Tamarin
Sweet Tamarin
Comes this way now
Shaft of green
Tambourine
Play your tambourine
To scare off that
Shaft of green

Gentle rain and glowing snow
It’s a feeling straight and warm
Concrete plants bid us goodbye
And tiny blue flowers are born

Burning smell, napalm's there
Fire burning, scorching air
Gentle rain and glowing snow
YOU are DEAD and I am BORN

Tamarin
Sweet Tamarin
Comes this way now
Shaft of green
Tambourine
Play your tambourine
To scare off that
Shaft of green

Bell that rings, rings for life
As another child in crimson is born
Shaft of green crashes thru the glass
Swift as arrow, starkly made of gold

Comes a day, we all shall pay
No tomorrow when comes today
Ask me what’s that Tamarin
I can’t tell, don’t know what it means

Wish I was in LA

wish I was in LA
inhaling a different death
quicker & irrelevant
bored & tempted to run...
here only standstill helps
standstill only
makes it
work...

will catch the nearest plane
& move towards a brighter death...
not the one on cockroach bed
pesticide meadow
thin cold water
meth
but the one where moths are free
to feast on my eyes
& suck out my Pollack
brainstain

the one where pope won't come to visit
and June will last forever...

wish I was in LA
with a tapestry of dormant will
boogaloo
flower
inhaling a different gift

been wearing this death for too long
a brighter one might help...

there, at LA's suburbs
a strawberry lady's waiting
w/ her black/pink poodle
puddle

with a different kind of zoo

how I wish I was in LA
the one in the back of my brain

Oberbaumbrücke

Success
I follow the golden stairs
Beat
Within the temple

Fear
Love on wings of gloom
Moan
All was these am I

Gleam
Nightfall lamp returns
Wild
Burdened cold twilight

Sick
Thru the world on hands and eyes
Touch
Stumbling archangels weep

Love
Roaming stranger silence
Tears
Marble full moon pyres

Walls
One face and the sky
Lips
Berlin, second class

Here’s peace
I rarely leave this place

Harvest

Mirrored sun is blinking down
In numb approaching style
Hear the chimes of tomorrow
Clearly for a while
Listen to these bells collapsing
Into endless voices
Sky-shape silhouette
Is dancing on her choices

Children praising for the ray
Of lonely distant sun
Surrounded by the purple clouds
In their skywards run
Said and done the master said
It’s easy to complain
The tempting voice of Lady Grass
Is in my head again

Bread at Dawn

Wear faces, masks of dawn
Graffiti warriors on the run
Find snow, zero doors or roofs
Stoned out of your mind… and still obscure
Wear taboos
Culture pain of years
Draw blood
In crayons and in tears… remember
Remember you’re dead
Recall… who’s paying for your bread
We’ll eat it at dawn
Like a lotus of your head

Lose traces, masks of death
Remember who’s supplying
All that’s left, of your breath
Going down the tube to feed your selves
Live up to the scent of empty graves
Cigarettes, the last and the good
Water
Tastes always like it should… live
for the magic of your streets
Yellow, black and working
Easy like a bee
We’ll choke it at dawn
Like unnecessary seas

Abstract, remember
Who you are
Cut your hands, let her touch
your hand… explore its cracks and scars
Of mirrors… windows and of towns
You’re famous
You’re really famous now
No need to speak unto this holy cow
And there’s no need
For yolk to run across your face
There’s no reason to put yourself away
In a Polish or a German grave
We’ll eat your body soon
Drink your eyeballs
In the rain and dance

“Henry Ford’s Epitaph”

May your food turn to blood
may your cars
never rust
may the rural tune of speed
rotate each orbit
of your tired
bosom; may you find
a material
that never wears out; a metal
that doesn’t melt
in the 50′s atomic sun
of a never experienced
future
let it soar, soar!
written in autobahns
by Mercedes engines
Volkswagen wheels
& nazi pamphlets
no one pays
attention to
we should
when he had a chance:
they were the epitaph
of a legend; labor
devil, dictatorious friend
of the plum knife night
impressed
w/ his dream clod
devoid of life
‘cept conveyor belts
& android manpower
I ran w/ the peaks
he leveled
his spark
automobiles hum
on flat automated lanes
veins of a bright illuminated
city
that eats & shits itself out
each cycle
passing this globe
international Jews
of an alien world
paid no attention
to the requiem
radios kept playing:
bright pop songs w/ volk
melodies; strict vocoded voices
carry
incomprehensible
words
up to the tomb of Henry
words like
explo
itation
futur
ism
no longer make sense
in sterile
Plexiglas wombs
w/ looped tapes
of banned speeches
spinning ad
lib, w/ the wisdom of
his medals
on an after-life
dreamwave, he’s chasing death-white
Tibetan demons, beasts from under polar
ice
a horror to behold – his
& Von Braun’s dreams came true
for the good of us all – Luddites,
the non-producers
you, lucky ones escaping
thru the narrow
planetary
chimney
leaving automated
streets
to greater devils
than us
will you write an epitaph
for Henry
on another
virginal planet?

koshalin shanty {notebooks by the sea}

“wires”

seas write on sand
crushed rocks of
memory, shells –
compass of the dawn
new light
amber
splashing drifting
curious of the experiential
child
staggering by the beach
bound to pink deltas
of seagulls
caverns of stony flowers
circles drawn on its memory
compass of the dusk
old light shaking
drilling venting
off the curious traveler
father space
mistaken for a lady
giving birth to legend
in spacey hospital tombstones
mistaken for beds
on pines
mistaken
for wires

“giant”

comedy time
this evening
musical time
late night
marathon runner
ethos
soccer oldboy
precision
coked dancer
intuition
junky drunkard
superstition:

eyes failed me
this morning
hair combed not
this morning
girls came not
this morning
beer warm was
this morning
& there’s no coffee
in the cupboard
so much for the mythic
breakfast
of a mad/verse/spitting
giant

“model”

what if tears were yawning
vaults of echoes
crowding corridors
of experience – what if
dunes on which I rest
now, were portraits
of a weedy woman
thrown here
by the fisher
men; basking here
w/ the fauna
of pulsar beaches
crying rain of prisms
touching her body
I gasp
at the majesty of portrait
& wonder how the model
actually looked like
at the dawn of time
birth of poetry
death of the warrior; then
I see her
emerging from the seethe
of darkness
bubbling peace
over sterile
troubled bodies

“menageries”

not much choice
of alleys here
the ones that lead
to crumpled
tene
ments, ones that lead
to central station
ones that lead
to smoggy factories
or post-monarchic suburbs
but who would choose
alleys? photo
lens
dances shyly,
shooting mena
geries, times & “Lord of the Ages”
bought in this town
en route to the sea…

…here, they only have
postcards, real storms blow miles
ahead, fishing boats
are seen as rare palms
where my soft mind’s
smoking joints, while
my body kisses the sun
in a sleazy sailor’s bar

“fablemaker”

it’s not an everyday
child’s thing
to write fables & poems
on fauna
channeling its village
drifting w/ the cosmos
on a microwave
stream
not every child’s lucky
to have inspiring grandmas
pilot grandpas
& freewheeling parents
brothers & sisters
down to serious business
the child the only one
conscious
not buying the TV crap
can you imagine it’s six
or a bit older
weaving ruby hammocks
between most distant stars
resting on them
w/ space devouring squirrels
grinding the cosmic nut
such a funny thing
a true naïve birth
most of us wish they’d experienced

“dekadenz”

there’s nothing american
here; except fickle fashions
that sound
like bad poetry
good poetry
shifting
& things dull teens repeat
like mantra
confusing the hip w/ the hep
cats w/ craps
cools w/ dozies
though dozy convinces
the hell out of me
lonely, though together
phasing thru the showrooms
w/ my latest lover
who doesn’t get it
I bet it, spitting out cherry
flavored gum, teeth as
white as my hair
when did I get this old?
there’s nothing to do here
dekadenz sailing
gobbles half my heart
leaving the other to her
my vulture of the
panoramic icons

“hemisphere I & II”

the joke is on you
not clouds
point is in you
not words
but if you ceased to speak
world would save
this wonderful place
from flyers
containing nothing
but dots
moving on the whirlwind:
breath of wonder
would be landing on
pyramids
in a future-ancient city
where motorik
generators
run; the deeply curious yawn
on a spring lazy morning
clouds in streaks
of pastel, barely dabbed colors
tribes dancing
to cha cha electro
years passing slowly
eating fruits
from mutant trees
planted in the dark
eons ago, so
that no one remembers the seeds…
…utopian drifters do nothing
drinking orange
nectars
from brass goblets
that remember the ancients
who made all this art
but forgot to taste it

we’re all rewriting waves
a child saw on the shore
thru the first eyes
of daybreak
on balmy songs
of a giant lark; on a midnight fire
fall of words
that poisoned this civilization
before its time has come
but tribes keep dancing
on the ruins
of places the generals
called shelters –
moon split in half
sun a brown dwarf:
Atlantis
laying a different pulse
on the hemisphere
of drums

“koshalin shanty”

static. miles of
it
errors. months of
id
a child’s rhyme
plain psychedelic journey
back to the day
when first shanty
was written
sailors were savage
surveyors
perched on sea breeze
radius
humming words the waves
brought on
to the deck
wooden emblems glowing
on a vineyard
totem
shore
times you can’t explain
to minds that
clean-cut truth
eyes that mount
vision
above the only line
of defense

Sizes of Time, Pictures of Blackbirds

Blackbirds framed heavy
full on your branch, familiar to you
dark budding pools of fingers
autumn chandeliers on fire.

We used your dead bridal cloth
feasted on wistful hermits.
stale high skies, kisses of flowers,
ripples of shells from rage to pain.

And thirteen overcast pines, prophesied
of return. Unswerving glade, so young
and cold, singing of deep calm space
mermaids and easy Indian time.

Pointed street, the root of our planet
hollow, laughing, sedated in little
quakes, crushes the old chandeliers
rushes towards the square sad sky
and makes the blackbirds sing
out of frame.

Love is a fungus

I came across this ancient graffiti
at the vegetable shop's wall
in fluorescent paint
there stood
a statement of attention
a statement to be reckoned
with:
"love is a fungus
and the street's where it grows..."
it suggested a whole epic
after...

there were all these green things
present
and they sure taste like your bodily
odors
and love is a fungus,
yes sir
indeed...
it reminds me of how are you dead...
it reminds me the juice
never spilled

love is a parking meter, too
and love is the cigarette
machine
it is also the crossroads where we first met
and the kiosk where we
swung
apart
and the Boogie St. dawn
which opens all nite

then I came across this graffiti artist
I somehow knew that's the man...
could tell by his hand
and serious fish eyes
I asked him:
"are you a goldfish, man, like me?"
he laughed
and said
"so that's how they meet..."
and whispered
"all love is a fungus"
and there's always an epic
after
cause the first line is always
the best
one

and our women are always
so
willing

Concentration Sister

Always free, I believed you from the start
steadily – though I didn’t know you – from top to bottom,
sure to deliver, you floated
above islands of the atom age,
railroads of the hobo escapades
trips in time to before the Industrial
Revolution, thanks to post-industrial machines
ocean liners to America, honeymoons in Cuba
but that was later on, first you came weird
on dawn’s doors, yearning simplicity, minimal animal
crashing screen oceans, nomad tents at sunrise
repeating mossy primeval tales, giving me reasons to be human,
with bare sun drifting above you,
doors crashed, & in time, you turned to nurse a bigger kill,
the ocean repeated your lies, dates became transparent,
eventually, you ran out of dates, became a learner,
first aid to averted hands fixing broken paper, as if
paper of life could be broken, inch by inch, during
fearless monsoons, monstrous evidence
they found in my pockets, sketches for songs & stage plays
& anti-regime poems,
trapped us both outside the diverted highway, set it slightly loose,
tight behind the steel fence, so we could observe our death
trapped in officer’s fist
while waiters called for lunch
light made nonsense now, no attention was paid
to your thought, so sick allegoric rats sold your craft & turned to
eat peculiar materials, armed, stuffed generals, intersections & sections
of our fathers’ codex, now tattooed on your forearm,
plain ink numbers you’ll always keep
I’m resting in your hands, accepting the fault,
awaiting the flaws to kick in, we have means & treatments,
say those outside, we’ll get you out of the camp,
rest now in her hands, your troubles this Mary shall soothe,
she’ll fit in your pocket, she shines in the dark, Americans made her,
they also invented salvation, now jump or fly, move this thinned out body
exercise the complex law of the few, saved, beaten down,
but complete – you weren’t given degrees for nothing – now troops
are landing, it won’t take long, they know we are the last ones –
let the carnal play begin, I couldn’t care less for my body
now that my moonshine jazz & poems
should carry you forever, past this pulp of tortured flesh
you’ll leave now behind with others, unforgotten concentration sister

Fola

I'm loosing up my senses
The train is late again
I caught a taste of magic
But then I went insane
I took a trip to Eden
Got thrown out of the door
For making love to angels
For questioning their god

And I know it's bitter on this end
But I'm only waiting for my friend
He's blood
He's cold

I'm shaking down the theater
Artaud would love to speak
Asylums drained his spirit
He thought that he was weak
And I walked the same path ever since
I've read his books on play
The actor is the broken hand now
And the horrid face of day

And I know it's bitter on this end
But I'm only waiting for my friend
He's blood
He's frail

So take me down to NY city
I'd like to force my stay
To bring out all the stuff of dreams
That's weaved in my morning trance
Like a Dervish I keep spinning
And in Dervish boots I'll die
There's nothing pinning me down to this planet
And nobody's gonna bring me down

Though I know it's bitter on this end
I'm only waiting for my dearest friend
He's blood
And he's a clown

Bargain Basement

Bargain basement satellites
Toy pianos, wagon wheels
Money stretch as far as eyes
Hunting for a better deal
Irish songs, emperor lice
Standing out in boxes brown
Sugar cane and bricks of shame
Add to your confusing frown

Killer prison acolytes
Kids that know no shame
Everything forgotten once
Rises high again
Buddha lips on Gloria face
The shades of rock’n’roll
Hades running in your veins
Sells your dreams to cold

Point me at the glowing sun
Shoot me like a bullet freak
Jump with me into the wild
Act before you speak
Once the settled game begins
There’s no turning back
Bedlam gates are open wide
To the thieves in black

I exceed the depth of your recollections
Living long in the same automobile
I exceed the width of your mind’s creation
Riding long on the same forbidden pills

Gypsy Love

When you told me I’m the one
When you said I’m your rising sun
All that rainbows whisper late
No time to crawl or hesitate

Can’t keep away, had to run with the light
Now there’s no way I can hide
From a Gypsy love
From a Gypsy love

When I learned to live by your side
When I found all the things you hide
All the secrets kept for me
All the details I couldn’t see

Can’t keep away, had to look inside
Now there’s no way I can hide
From a Gypsy love
From a Gypsy love

When the ashes of our olden world
Turned to pearls on new ocean shore
Human mystery unraveling
Every soul of creation sings

Can’t keep away, had to sing with the tide
Now there’s no way I can hide
From a Gypsy love
From a Gypsy love

Like Ice

Heal me with your broken heart tonight
Feel me thru the curtains of my mind
Touch me with your fingers cold as ice
I believe I’ve found my paradise

So much to say, so much to do
So many lies, nothing is true
Wishing you’d stay, turning to gold
Feeling alone, feeling so cold

Wishing you’d stay, bright eyes
Wishing you’d stay like ice

Kiss my wintry body like the wind
Ease my soul and finally hear it ring
Take me to your heaven shores where time
Sits on raven wings and sips his wine

So much to say, so much to do…

Take my broken seasons to your shrine
Frame forgotten ashes, let them shine
Everything’s deserted since you left
Everybody’s gone now that I bled

So much to say, so much to do…

Shore Silence

Clothed word for word
Wander history’s shore
Brighter wishes weaken
Yearning night’s galore

Comprehending peace
Cursing what’s possessed
Silence kept its prey
Wine and trees protest

Searching fools in pain
Bitter heard it right
Wine and words meet oceans
Women reap the night

Small in wandering, whispered
Gentle reckless thighs
Keep the halo still, love
Footsteps of the guards

Everything is thirsty
Thought shall second you
Did I mention snow
Lowly eyes of wool

Only for shore silence
Would I change my way
Wings I tested furiously
But that’s another grave

Only in shore silence
Would I course your time
She the comprehending
He the bridal mind

Blessed when mountains offer
Rosy nights and ring
Of a home we’re missing
Songs we’ll never sing

Only in shore silence
Would I lapse to days
To the doors I mentioned
To the streets I bled

Bungalow no 3

glued my eyes up to the mighty sky dynamo
containing
outdoor beauty and cans of leisure
being one
like fish on rice and beans and orchids
ornaments from the old man
of the mountain's
puff-machine...
there & here we slither
now & zen
not meant for life and/or death
rather immortal frequencies
of los voladores
repeatance and repeatance and repeatence
in deep chairs
sweet-talk peaches
church choirs
shit-talk hobos
wasted gurus
of unmade religions
jumping up at every train's whistle
looking for diamonds
in their noses
and rubies
in other cavities
hoping the train's thrust will end all things
now...
wipe out giant piles
of cowboy boots
and violet lipsticks
like cells
of a bigger apparatus
there is the whole globe here
hole globe here...
& the room
divided precisely into four mighty pieces
reminds them of the cross
which is all things simple
& universe translucent...

over Bungalow no 3
the sky is never empty:
stars are all spaces
times

City centre howl

sway through the city centre
sway through dozens of downtown women
keen on uptown dealers
& middletown sailors
decked safely at the ocean liner's pretentious
steer
like a belt
or a giant beard
you be the judge
you be the prince
of the marked cards

smug harbors
smog cutters
rag havens
scum investitures...
up against the wall
up against this side of the gun
up against the marvel of
oblivion
& the steep amazements of her fury

shit talkers
need a single bullet
a single dollar to shut their mouth
and begin to pray...

emerge out of the car horn fog
swallowin' the shallowin' sound of music
some cheap swing matters
hidden in the big bass drum
safely pinched inside the
banjo
young enough Sinatra imitators
dead cunts on prison bars in Cuba
swollen to incredible sizes
like raw dead rats
consumed as chicken
wings

sway right through the city centre
to find all paths meet
at the very same spot
to find that they all lead straight into death
straight into nothingness
apathy
kids
drinkin' their beers and whisky and vodka
and who-knows-what that they can afford
and I wish I were that rich

shit talkers
need a single bullet
a single dollar to shut their mouth
and begin to pray...

and I'll burn all the fuckin' smug harbors
at any given
chance
watch bombs explode in the rag havens'
hearts
watch poison gas overflow
the sick smog cutters' veins
& kind institutes of art
collapse...
be a hopeless guerilla in the concrete wall's shadow
ready for
execution
ignoring the falling down
new
architecture

Cool Eye, Child of Moon

The sun beat down upon her face
It couldn't dim her
Silver heads and telescopes
They couldn't see her
All the ladies of the world
They couldn't be her
Every nymph and goddess too
Couldn't beat her

There were voices, there were eyes, there were words not to describe
Always
There were friends, there were foes, there was joy, there was woe
Always
There was she, there was I, there was sun and there was sky
Always
There were kings, there were slaves, there were cradles, there were graves
Always

And she will always slide
She will always shine

Cool Eye, Child of Moon
I shall see you pretty soon
Cool Eye, Queen of Sun
You'll always be my number one

Hours flow really slow
Can't grow older
Waves so gently hit the shore
Won't get stronger
The sun beat down upon her face
It couldn't dim her
Silver heads and telescopes
They couldn't see her

There were singers, there were songs, there were notes that can't go wrong
Always
There were cities, there were fields, time to move, time to be still
Always
There was she, there was I, there was sun and there was sky
Always
There were ships, there was sea, there were skies and there were birds
Forsaken

Accidentally last

my very best poem will be the last one
the one written in invisible ink
stuck between a row of dusty
Kadarka
bottles
& withered sunflowers
the one on some ragged
yellowed piece of paper
or the one written in wax
on Basquiat's art
facsimile
or w/ chalk
on my favorite sidewalk
for someone who likes to play
hop-scotch

the one that will only express
my breath's
vivid
holiness
the one accidentally found
by the new house's owners
who'll never know
a poet lived here
before...

the one that went
to the dustbin...

a poem to summarize
my anonymous
presence:
the disenchanted
final
doorslam
the 2 A.M. coughing
Cohen's old songs
& your reddening
curls

a poem scratched on asylum's
ceilings
w/ petrified
matchsticks:
a poem a lifetime long

the poem the straight jacket
hides...

the poem w/ one word only:
"holy, holy, holy..."

Ride the Flower U-Bahn

Berlin, four seconds to midnight
happy routes took beastly
course, straight to
modern heaven, dismissing the post-
wise pill droppers apply
to their suits, honey months
passing with the show girls
young ears cheeks in circle
modern heaven

is there “plan two”, in case
the big smoking arm of law
ray guns wiser fingers
beginning station again, beginning
boy and line – hurrying not to miss
the flower u-bahn
kiss the flower u-bahn

by common blood
we’re dead civilization
impelled by facile knowledge
grey down silhouettes
smoking from the all-knowing
stand skull
drilled into locks
on menagerie cells –
young skulls learning
inside

invincible tombs
watch busy bare years
an agony

Sons of Zeus

Too early for the after-world
Body fluids flow
Oceans of pus, rivers deep
Mountains cold, it’s all we know
Sons of Zeus sail, sailing on

We’re proud of every morning
Wands of death and life
If the seasons change tomorrow
In our range we’ll be safe
We’ll be round

We’re legends, murder, gold
Looking thru the veil
Of time, prose and poems
Waste, I say, waste
We’re coming early, giving late
All in the beauty of fate

Lock us up with melancholy
Cry for young ones, laugh
Feasts of Aphrodite, guru hands
Every corner making music
For our children’s graves

Bodies just shells for our soul
Empty out the bigger ones
Sail on older days, on ashes
Promise us more cities in the sun
We’re lost to your hands
Moses gun

We’ve never written our own story down
In water, stone or wind
Waking up from centuries of death
Crying for a battle, wing
Sons of Zeus, sailing, sing

We’ve heard laughter – the moon fell down
We’ve idiot kings and Burger King crowns
We’re sultry pilgrims of excuse
Was a deal you just can’t refuse

Beads exchanged for books on pain
Silver dollar for your name
What’s handwritten sleeps for years
Universal in lakes of golden tears
Unicorn seduction thru your fear
Medicine, I say, medicine
Luck I say and bless your lucky winds
Stars I say encompass all
Ships of fools in flame
On Amerigo’s shore

“Między Placami”

Między placami
rzeka
z mostem skrzonym
trwaniem; skocznym bębnem
wagabundy, toczonego skrajem rynsztoka
w perłowy zmierzch
stąd widać
tradycyjne przyprawy
bopu; rzucane niemo skarbem
odwracalne śmierci wawrzyńców – klasyczne
formy kamienic, pełznące grzybem, pleśnią
w norę wczorajszych bram
przemierzanych przez księcia ulicznic
skrzy się
cukierkowo-plazmowym marazmem, klinicznym
uwiądem serca, dalekopiszącą małpą
zawieszoną na hali przepiórek – och, kto
mógłby spisać miasto, w pełni jego formy
w każdym tagu zostawionym na ścianie
każdy podkreśla byt; jak pies szczający
na kamień
drwi
sęp zawieszony
nad budynnym kształtem
człowieka; spijający pryzmat krwi
z przeklętego bursztynowego nieba
na które ktoś, niczym motyl – księżyc
przyszpilił, wydeptany skrawek skały
bramę galaktyczną;
egzotyczny
szlam jutrzenki, parafraza marokańskich
fletów; dziwne noce nastały, dziwne
płynne schody, po których dzień jak co dzień
wspina się getto
pijacki rewir zapomnień
pustych busów zawieszonych
między kiedyś a nigdy (północ a szósta)
z pustymi płaszczami wczepionymi
w fotele, tramwaje w dnienie, frantyczne
regaty chodaków, wracamy stamtąd, skąd
ostatnie majaki umierającego menela
równoważne są wierszom Rimbaud,
obrazy drwią z artysty
pniemy się skrycie
na dachy
gdzie wiersze piszą się same
anteny zbierają przekaz
wbity w dwuwiersz jak w palnik
błyskający ledwie widzialnym
odbitym światłem
kawy