LOVEWAR

All this darkness
is gone
can’t believe there is light
and everything is illuminated now in London

not dark alleys
the passions of mystery

normal day
Highbury fields
quiet

can’t believe what was happening in those places at nights

parallel life

secret incognito

undercover

agents of opposite forces

kissed and clashed

nobody knows about it
hash

the result of the love-war is unclear

it is possible that still there is a stronghold

with forces gathering and ready from both fierce directions

and that the battle is finished but war is raging on

with double force

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Lilith or Lucifer rising

Still nothing about love, Virgin

just spikes and shiny steel

no dead people rising

no kisses

no warm

schizophrenic galaxy

boredom

lucifer is encircling me two days in a row

this week

it is stifling

lucifer on monday

another on tuesday

hope there will be rain

on wednesday

or at least

a rose, with spikes made of her

anger

there is no love in your galaxy,

virgin

expensive diamond skulls

jewellery

I have lost the meaning of waiting

for your sign

I’m lost

and buried

deep deep down

in a darkly underground

This is a war, honey – what a shame.

It was a dream about us being those special sandpit friends

in a nice love-unity

and joy

of building something

together

without hitting each other with a spade on the head

and scheming to destroy your underground tunnels

when everything seemed to go great

conspiring with the district gang

how to win over me

I had a dream of us being different then them

But those things are impossible

how could I forget that you are the only child

all this mistrust

and

ego trips

I retreat

to the very end of the park

to talk with the sunshine instead

and play with pebbles and dirt

but then

the anger at your murderous betrayal

hits me

so

I

watch you and your gang

delaying my revenge

don’t you think I forgot

about hate

not yet

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

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

Islington, morning

I am fragmented and the world is
fragmented shifted the logic is
disjointed
I am the perfect portrait of this
My language slips my tongue
Globalized I
We
We
We

 

Christmas Borsch

At the Christmas table my father in law

quotes Marx and says that Lenin was a righteous fellow

I think he says it for me to hear it

but I don’t know

At the Christmas table my mother in law

never talks about politics

and is very devoted to catholic faith

but turns the blind ear to everything

as long as it pays

I sit at this Christmas table

eating their borsch

and feeling quite stupid and dumb

while thinking about my atheist aunt

who was rotting in communist prison

for rejecting the pravda’s of Lenin and Marx

My father in law

is sitting next to me and I don’t know why on my right

again quoting Engels and Marx

and I am eating this salty borsch

thinking about my grandpa’s running away from the Soviet’s hands

I want to get up

but my mother in law

pours into my plate just a little more

of her

sour Christmas borsch.

Abnormal

I wake up thinking about infinity

I go to sleep thinking about infinity

this isn’t normal

normal is

to think about

the dinner

the shoes

and to pay your taxes

Oh, why didn’t we join the KGB? – A Pitiful Song

To hell with art
to hell with everything
it doesn’t change anything
the kgb always wins
the kgb runs the theatre mill
the kgb has the tv
the publishing house and newspapers
it’s all the kgb
while the artist is rotting
I piss on the art I want to do nothing
it didn’t bring back
any of the land
stolen by the kgb
and I am an underdog
living in the concrete box they have built for me
laughed at
by kgb from the tv screen
while my family is called loonies pitiful losers
by bribe masters kgb
Oh, my pitiful loser family!
still volunteers for the insane cause
philosophically
with shrinking retirement
while the kgb
retired with grace
and still shows itself on tv
and everybody is clapping
(as if they forgot about everything)
while watching their daughters dance
on tv
Oh, why didn’t we join the kgb.

Oh, why didn’t we join the KGB? – a pitiful song.

To hell with art
to hell with everything
it doesn’t change anything
the kgb always wins
the kgb runs the theatre mill
the kgb has the tv
the publishing house and newspapers
it’s all the kgb
while the artist is rotting
I piss on the art I want to do nothing
it didn’t bring back
any of the stolen land
by the kgb
and I am an underdog
living in the concrete box they have built for me
laughed at
by kgb from the tv screen
while my family is called loonies pitiful losers
by bribe masters kgb
Oh, my pitiful loser family
still volunteers for the insane cause
philosophically
with shrinking retirement
while the kgb
retired with grace
and still shows itself on tv
and everybody is clapping
(as if they forgot about everything)
while watching their daughters dance
on tv
Oh, why didn’t we join the kgb.