sheets of paper from my own shelf.
I was meant to write an eulogy
for that time of life when it seemed
you'd have martinis and breasts
in ample dosage for ever.
This quickening age makes everything so damn hard.
In all trades somebody has already succeeded.
This makes me loath to all work,
and I am already on the wrong side of youth.
The fabrications of men,
their gods, their maps, all look alien to me now.
In the baleful side of twilight,
artificial paradises are still a valid claim.
In the shadiest corner of the park,
dark petals have been heaped up
by an industrious employee of the municipality.
The world is defined by a constant struggle
between will and the problems it creates.
Creatures perish when there's no tension.
Our intent to iron life is killing.
I am looking for those recesses.
Grit! Bruised flesh. Veins are chronicles.
Things we bought in the past.
People we wanted to be - mostly photographs
and catalog models - and languages
we wished we could master.
Scars we wanted to acquire in the jumble sales.
I heard there is a land
at the end of the world,
where you don't get punctured tyres
or clogged sink drains, or
programmed obsolescence.
Try to bring your future back from storage
by using channelled writing and montage.
The front seat belongs to Jesus,
but does he know I turned the airbag off?
They were blabbling about un-ing and dis-ing
all the things, as in uninformation,
disdata, disdain and uninspire
(wait, then distance...?).
The aryan hair of fire, and its clear blue eyes
confirmed me of my own impurity
and how he could end it all
by means of one swift decision.
Leave behind all the low-hanging fruit
for zealots and drones to feast on.
I just want a pint of IPA or two
before I am assimilated.
Can I just have that, for Baal´s sake?
When you die you realize
that cloud access and network shares
were not so important after all.
************************************
el cieno espeso, negro,
ensordecedor, que arrojan mis poros
es la verdadera sombra del hombre.
Angels abysmal in their radiance,
we were not meant for this.
this struggle between contemplation
and the desire to shape things
and cover them in the inextricable fungi
of our will
(extract from 'Occasional Scaffoldings',
an anonymous opus found among the debris)
************************************
It is not wise to mutter his name
under your breath, like it isn't wise
to sleep with cigarettes.
But you know what, we were caught
in the heat of the moment.
We parked our concerns round the corner
and proceeded up the stairs
topsy turvy lovers with nothing better to do.
Affronted in our solitude.
We do not want men of the absolute to come
with open helping arms,
for the god of snares is with them
and his wily smily is content with assurance.
"Admit defeat" it seems to say,
in a hushingly victorious glassy eye.
the Big-Bang unlocked huge amounts
of denial (I wish the universe swallowed me
regardless, in its vast reserves of soma).
Vanished silences among dead-cold stars.
Is there any peace better than that?
The voices of some fat people
can be unbearable, plastered in their comfort zones.
************************************
To know oneself to be inadequate
to the violence that tinges the world.
The anguish of the animal
placed in the wrong ecosystem.
"Te entran unos sudores...
el cuello de la camisa se antoja intolerable...
se acelera el pulso;
es una sensación muy desagradable"
************************************
The stolen car screeched to a halt
and they came down with iron bars
and a gaze devoid of all reason.
Blood and sodium glare.
The lust for more violence.
Primitive spirals every night.
Entire generations sacrificed
to the totem indifference.
You know, they were babies too...
To know oneself to be inadequate
to the violence that tinges the world.
The anguish of the animal
placed in the wrong ecosystem.
"Te entran unos sudores...
el cuello de la camisa se antoja intolerable...
se acelera el pulso;
es una sensación muy desagradable"
************************************
The stolen car screeched to a halt
and they came down with iron bars
and a gaze devoid of all reason.
Blood and sodium glare.
The lust for more violence.
Primitive spirals every night.
Entire generations sacrificed
to the totem indifference.
You know, they were babies too...
