Jigsaws Raining UpTo lay astonded, as I watch carefully,the clouds assemble themselves above.My head touched by the intimacy ofthe understanding of their love.Their jagged edges touch to invitea wistful breeze to bring them together,o're my body as their willess livestravel amid the mild, tepid weather.And when that snow or rain or sleetdances, pounds, slaps insistantly,might I stay and watch those cloudswhile their edges fit, still perfectly.Towards such a dark and rainy roadmy feet bear this heavy burden of me.And away from paths traveled beforegleefully I'm led further to the sea.Once an occurance in my universe,before called by my mother 'Dinner, sup!'With an intrepid glance to high above,Thought I, "My walls are jigsaws raining up."
The Death of ThoughtAnd here I sita peninsula in a seaof books and paperssilicon organed plasticboxes of red rubberveins, fueled byelectron richcopper blood.Attached on all endsexcept one notbased in reality.Clinging to mainlandwith fragility sans-grace.Its soil rich withun-harvested vegetableswith which I mightfurnish my tablebefore they are consumedby cockroaches.Never to be seen,never to be known,not contrived again.
Volker-ballI see the people stampeding inWaving flags and fists of corn flowersTheir children no longer playing plowerAgricultural interest no longer winsThe men shout; happily drowning in ginNight draws on; the language foulerHurting children cry and cowerDanube women dance to entice sinGirls sit to prattle the night awayBoys punch and giggle around adult legsWhile the elders sing together of last fallThe nuns and monks corner themselves to prayInfants scream; "Breasts!!!" they begThe days die attending the Völker ball
"I speak of the world,"Sometimes I endevorto become a muted entity,one with no identity,not but a story to tellthrough stiffled sighs,and moans floating,gliding on the breeze.I would speak,through the soil coverthat colours my hands.Tell the worldall the myths of peoples,which I consecrate, sacred,through acts of good will.
MannequinOne doesnt pretend,Nobility with intent.Meander pathsAnd called upon to trespass.Falsified postures,Mimic being verified.Not but insectuous lives;Where painted a monarch,One stands plebian.Exoskelletal fatalitiesWanted after by man;for the world,Married to swine.They wear eyeliner.Triumphs! The sinful dominationWhere Lilith failed.
Age of PurityInnocent lambs dripSensitive pearl youth.Devoured greedily.Those rumbling swarmsDistill not before consumption,Their deformedBlood merlot.Merrily they scream!Carcass youth;Falling, falling.Circled ropes consuming,Youthful throats.Many eyes glow dully,Awareness dies.Pendulums from a carousal.Take note the world;Sanguine rivers gurgle,Precious scarlet pride.Weaned mountain breast;Rise feminine,Demoralizing,Enslaving,All ripped flesh of plains.Its gangrene proliferating,This rotted infectious corpus.Laid waste by babies,Our poor mother.