In the everlasting shade,

where the river meets the glade,

I sit and sharpen my blade.

Pain pours forth in a stabbing motion,

to join the river and form an ocean.

Twilight falls from the willow tree,

arms reaching for the black in me,

and still I toil by the midnight sea.

For these tangled desires deep,

everything I long to keep,

exact a price in blood too steep.

And so I cut and slash and moan,

to find a place all of my own.

If I knew then what I know now,

I´d know what to do,

but I only know what I know now,

because I didn´t know then.

Love sober,

fellow wanderer.

Between the drunken punches,

smell my hangover hair.

For whatever you see in me,

morning regrets will set you free.

Foxy, foxy,

there´s a monkey in my garden,

all the things he touches harden,

foxy, foxy,

there´s a monkey in my garden,

he flings shrapnel at the warden,

better watch it,

there´s a monkey in my garden,

left hand scribbles,

drools and dribbles.

Come, you monekey,

screw the garden!

My lyrical I tells me

to find meaning

between the lines,

but damn you!

This space

is mine!

Let me shoot

my blanks

any old time...

I eat,

because it´s something to do,

when there is little,

too much,

nothing,

but time,

to plug the hole

in my mind.

Someday soon,

I´ll swallow the world whole,

without meaning to -

because it´s something to do...

Sentence Structure

The string of expression snaps

and words slither as slogans

like snakes in the grass

each of them hissing:

this, too, shall pass.

Origin Story

You beat me with your broken heart,

full of holes,

right from the start.

I sew them shut,

and mend the vessels,

to hide my crime.

But all in vain.

You beat me every time.

the slug in me stews

in veritable word salad

polished to perfection

gobble, gobble, thesaurus brain

leave slimy trails of

love like ulcers

in your retinas

pus filled phrases

for your pleasure

made to measure

for afternoon lobotomies

i give you nothing

have a piece...

I keep myself safe and sound.

I always go the long way around.

All these versions of me,

I play for you,

so you don´t see,

me.

For in my head

I built a shed

of nothingness

to your splendor.

Your own personal vendor

of everything

that sleeps in me.

I keep it close,

so you can see.

I do things by halves,

and why not?

Making things whole,

rarely pleases my soul.

Most are finished in derisive laughter,

still broken in glue and plaster.

Leave them wanting like a symphony,

keeps them guessing,

who may I be.

Am I full, or am I waning?

At least, I have endless complaining.

So, half it is -

my mediocre bliss.

the shadow of you

swallows me whole

everything´s new

and so old

I step to the demarcation line

everything´s fine

and so cold

the shadow of you

sees me through

the worry of time

everything´s fine

and  so blue...

Sound is paramount.

Meaning is secondary.

At best.

Amor Fatis

I am the fish in the middling sea,

the whale road is calling to me,

vertigo water,

swirling trails,

forever searching,

for the sand to hide me,

for the rocks to smash me,

 and for hunger to find me.

I am a fish in the middling sea,

ever onwards,

never free.

If the heavenly father was a mother

I´d bother her for grace,

but I cannot see her face,

so I wait,

and watch this space.

Phoenix

If I make myself any smaller

I´ll disappear

War is not conducive to words

From a bed of fire

I rise

Ashes

Ashes

What is God but the greatest peeping Tom there ever was?

Let´s hope he has the courage to look away once in while...