Poem, poems, poetry

Concrete

My husband only talks about money and properties

My husband only talks about money and properties

My husband only talks about money and properties

About pipes and refurbishments

About refinancing

And management

The finishing up buildings

And renovations

Carpets

Doors

I don’t give a damn about the shade of the doors endings

His mother only talks about money and properties

I don’t give a damn

I know I’m ungrateful

But I am suffocating

I want to talk about a nonexistent property

in this house

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Literature, Poem, poems, poetry, politics, religion

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

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Art, economics, politics, Satire, Uncategorized

A pseudo theatre review from a certain play in New York.

It is rotting. This face of this little red spider with black curly hair, like a sheep. A black sheep. I seem so tall above her, but she is the boss – she is holding the red chair under her unfit butt. Of course I don’t need her for anything, but I was asked to be nice to her and it wasn’t exactly easy, cause my headache was growing, and I am not sure if it was due to the stuffy air or due to this piece of art I was just watching or due to my hypocrisy which I was asked to endure. Thanks to all the unseen spirits who made this performance short – that was the best thing about it. Then, I had to shake the hand of this bold guy with unsympathetic blue eyes- the creator of this performance- a self proclaimed anarchist, but unfortunately sponsored by the state. But which state? Don’t worry, not yours, you wise American reader! Which state? Let me give you a riddle- who are the dumbest people in the world? Yes, yes, you guessed! Oh, don’t be so politically correct. I’ve heard  it was Marx’s idea and besides, you are absolutely right this time, so don’t worry about insulting me! But let’s stop this way of thinking, the theatre is not a place for logic! Don’t you understand? You idiot? They do theatre because they suck at logic! That’s the result of it! Otherwise, they would be quite happy programming in Python all day long or constructing bridges which would work and not collapse  after the first trial! Oh, why are people so stupid? Can’t they understand that if he prays from the stage to abolish the state and the money, it doesn’t really mean that he seriously wants it! It is a metaphor of revolution! It is for you, you idiot to make you feel good about your work and that your taxes go towards something revolutionary! Oxymoron? Oh, who cares. I like the money, too. Let’s keep it. And then, let’s have a party. Good night.

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Art, economics, Poem, poetry, Satire, Uncategorized

One Prosaic Afternoon

My mother is so middle class and I’m her quirky baby
she holds a calculator on her laps calculating diengi
I tell her that I’m bored and sad
but she is getting angry
and tells me eat your soup cause soup is good
but am not feeling hungry
I ask her what’s the point of life
she says no one knows
and asks me about homework of geometry
she takes me to the kitchen table
to calculate the cone size, but I obviously hate this
I ask her about universe and stars
and then we start to argue
she calls me feeble-minded and I call her prosaic
but suddenly I see the cone comes from the page
and swirls in the air just in front of her

I do love geometry now
but now she thinks I’m crazy

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economics, Poem, politics, Satire, Uncategorized

Little Ben’s Song

Paper money, paper money, paper money, do you love me?

Oh, I love you,  paper money, you are oh, so sweet!

A tree in my backyard is worth more than you, but so be it,

I do love you paper money, you make me dance and sing,

all I ever need is ink

and my printer which is git

all the people waiting here

for my cute Gutenberg box

to create some magic bill.

Paper money, paper money

oh, so sexy, oh, so dumb

just like you like it man

just like you like it madame.

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