Dark moods, hypocrisy, Johad, Literature, london, love, Poem, poems, poetry, politics, Uncategorized

JIHAD in Barnet

 

You need to understand me
you are just a white whore
you, and your yoga pornography
I hear it everyday
It’s not my fault
That’s how it is
I am a man
34
I can import myself a young Asian from abroad
and teach her how to behave
at 50 or so one day                                                                                                                        when I get a job
I’m an attractive man
and you
I can have you when I feel like it
I am a man
you need to understand me
I am a man
and you are a white whore
what is love
I really don’t know
I fear you might expose me
you will ruin my name
I have already told everyone and my mother
that you are dangerously insane
like princess Diana and all the white whores
hungry for mediterranean men

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Art, Culture, fake relity, Literature, london, poems, poetry, Uncategorized

On the platform to insanity

on another planet
there is only you and me
drunk of love
floating

in insanity

in the tube
there are no people besides us
only our kiss

national rail victoria

here it’s only you and me
we don’t have any plans
or shame

even the cctv cameras
don’t bring us to panic

our kisses are pure and free
on the platform
towards highbury

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Art, Dark moods, Literature, love, passion, Poem, poems, poetry, Uncategorized

Midnight, too late to go home

what is love a compassion a connection of souls at the bottom of existence
why do you need any more explanations
the ability to see yourself in the other bum
without judgement
last passion insanity of the senses
despite the darkness of the park where all this is happening
in the night
in secrecy
dirty love lust
you can call it that
but for me this is life
this is a beautiful encounter
of truth
without the world and day coming into it and spoiling
our secret forbidden love
with broken heels and lost iPhones
in the trees of passion
eternal under the British sky
who cares if they judge us
it is us its ours its our love our need our compassion
the bitches with masculine harsh words
and the successful machos
who cares
why can’t we die in those leaves
but happy on this bench at midnight

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Dark moods, Literature, love, peoms, Poem, poems, poetry, Uncategorized

Stepping down into the darkness of light

Sometimes I think :  take this gun from that wall and fire it out
out of boredom to shoot this glass
sylvia plath hedda gabler
hedda gabler sylvia plath

it is all so slow and draining
the snow is raining

i had hope for everything now it is gone
i want the words to be like leafs convoluted and wild
exotic plants

and you
a heavy being I can’t live without
but don’t know what to do with
the childhood is gone
and now
the long days going to autumn
the road in the park muddy
i am slowing down
what happened

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climate change, Dark moods, extinction, fake relity, Literature, love, Poem, poems, poetry, Uncategorized

As You slip into the climate change hole again

I am as empty as you

no talent for reality

money, mortgage, plans

mortgage sounds like morgue to me

it’s the fear of death which killed us

our spirit

but this emptiness loves you

it cares about you

no need to worry then

before it was

a grey-hate black madness

this emptiness is alive now somehow

and your voice is everything

let’s believe in it

you are the first person

who was able to

achieve anything in it

and even when I’m angry

it doesn’t mean a thing

love or climate change

love

please come back from the extinction

please

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Literature, Philosophy, poems, poetry, Uncategorized

His Hero’s journey – Poem nr. Jan.9

His hero’s journey

what a nonsense but wait –

So he actually believes that he is not just a big (vast) emptiness?

He actually sees something when he closes his eyes?

Not darkness to escape from?

Well, that’s actually refreshing (to be honest)

after those endless years of Nietzsche

and abortion gangs

(I’m really terribly sorry to say that).

 

something new –

like an addiction

like fresh grass

like summer

like horseback riding.

 

 

 

 

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Culture, Literature, news, Poem, poems, poetry, poezja, politics, Uncategorized

Informant

A gargantuan hole in my head
the truth is:
dark is my hair
the truth is:
human I am
the truth is:
I live on earth
the truth is:
no much else
the else is a hallucination
a daydream
a lie
king-size, bulky, mountainous messcommunication
a truth without the spell check

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