No Title


Worried about nicety

Too many bullets in the neck

Worried about money

Nothing about what's your feed

The pressure cooker


Now take this

Plant in pots of hypocricy

Melted heart

Makes swords

Now take this

And plant it in pots of hypocricy

Things that grow in the gloom

Things that grow after washing blood off fingers too many times

Now take this

And plant it in pots of hypocricy


Golden eggs are over

So is the hoard

Instrumental iron melts and bleeding pens

Screwed over

The machine and the cog

Screwed over

The engine and the fuel

Golden eggs are over

The mocking bird

Is dead

Smoke the silence

Smoke the silence

Smoke the silence


The literature we didn't have time to exchange

The songs we didn't sing for one another

Systematic rage in analysis

Love poems I never whispered in your ears

Organizational fetishism


That every bit of data agitates

Now ... long steps

Head tucked in collar


I'll produce them


The oppressed flames of lustfull prophecy

Repeated over countless moments

While alienated in human factories

Alienated in political factories

Alienated in places other than factories



Alienated under forceful kindness

And oh the soft machinery

Of the things I wanted us to keep

Things I have reviewed only twice

But for ages each time


And produced

Like an alien

A self reliant/post-modern/individualistic/objective alien





With long steps

Head tucked in collar

Counting moments of alienation


glorious fallen dreams


This day

I give in

In a non-exhibitive way

with my "bitch face"

Sharp like an arrow

And I hand in

A resume

of years of resistance

Carve that smile, toothless

I leave the post office

And the financial aid

And the court

And the committee

And the judge

And the facts and figures

All with a bloody trace of wishful bravery

With a grudge

Shoot me while I pass the wall

of my own dreams

'Coz on the other side

I will be collecting scores

As all wished

The Bitter End

Tip toe walk into

Sleeping Beauty King

I doubt 
          I know 
                 I doubt

My fingers reached like brittle autumn branches

I fear I might scratch that skin

I know 
        I want 
               I doubt

My fingers

Look for the shovel

We hibernate

Stumbling through determination

And mud

The thrive moves under your skin

and breaks my prayer for a 300 year Beauty Queen sleep

We hibernate

Skin to skin

And miles apart

Pain creeps under your skin

Accumulates a pulse

Your left arm jerks


I know 
         I want
                I curse this autumn

Like the other 6

I hibernate


The bitter end


I break down,

In gird lines, rulers, page layout, columns, margins

I am

Blessed by the margins

Blessed by the flawlss structure

Overlapping poverty and richness

I live in the margins

Like a killer whale


Coz on paper

Everything is pretty


I lose count

In gird lines, rulers, page layout, columns, margins


I lose count

In gird lines, rulers, page layout, columns, margins

Let me Through

Laughter and rhythm

Hanging in the dim light like an explosive curse

And the prayer for overdose

Upbeat surrounding,


My friends are shaking it

Pissed coz girls outnumber

Laughter and rhythm

But the lonely pigeon on my window pane


Hanging out under the stair way

Like a troubled creature

And the prayer for feathers

Fingers around a pen

Let me through

Let me through

I will never know any better

I will


Let me through

Let me through

Now I don't bleed anymore

Now I only wish my fingers played like a feather

I'm not bleeding anymore

Let me through

Let me through

Let Me Through.jpg

The Fire Poem

Power of genes...

Those we inherited from our starving ancestors

And stored them in our bones

For when the fierceness in your Peridot eyes meet the smoldering desires in mine

I, from the world of pumping fists and communal bonding

Am lying in the grave of my dead desires

Waiting for a revolution


You came

Saut dans le vide

Five fingers of fire

My chest cracked open and

Bells rang

You surrounded my kingdom with songs, torches and déjà vu

I am Aura! I have crossed oceans in search for the King of standing oppositions! The God of cynic melodies and bitter poetry

I launch the army of mine

To erase the golden dust that is covering your perfect posture, with my lips

You key my Johnny cash/June carter fantasies

Patterns start squirting out of my fingers

I devour muse again

But [Bjork - I’m gonna keep it to myself This time] -

The twirl of passing moments ...

The heavy air of early morning rain I have known for a thousand years Forms ivy covered Achaemenid pillars in my lungs


I am the admiral of those faces carved in the stone!

Without my armour

Without my muscles

I am all just the bones of my starving ancestors

I stand there bare

Lean into your arms

And I feel the spears in your back

Way too deep in your spine

I want to turn you around and pull them out

And hear you cry!

And then cradle you like a bear cradles her cubs!

But I am a hunter... hypnotized by the spiral of your sensations

I want to lick your wounds like a lioness does!

But I am only a lonely knight loyal to the kings that are all gone

I lean into your arms

You’re lean enough for my arms to reach all the way back to the spears

That are way too deep in to your spine

And I ache with you

As the devil whispers his separation song

As I bow to the cruel universe

To ... the permanent marks it has left on the chambers of your heart Then

I cry for days, and nights

And I picture you on my way

In here



On and off of stages

Over and over again

You were the resistance song

The silent revolution

My bones were starving for

Reincarnated my


For fire



I cry just to wash away the collection of the past and make your image reflect the fire within, burning us both down


I cry

But my tears, my tears just inflame that fire

I picture you on my way And

I yet have to discover

where in my bones I stored your power

Loving in the Harper Times

Tries me on for a winter long

In a winding silent freezing fall

No debts and no enemies but

He has left her in a rundown stall

Loving in my glory times

Tries me on for a winter long

Says I’m too good as if it is natural

But the earth is pulling us apart

Chokes me on affection, too tall

I know for him to sleep around

[we don’t wanna talk about it]

I stretch thin like a tendonitis

I break my fingers and chew my nose

I’m from a far land,

I apologize

Loving in the changing times

DNAs don’t match he can say from above my dress material

Science is the God and Aphrodite’s blue

I’m a foreigner I apologize

Loving in the Harper times

I’m a foreigner I apologize

Everything about us is wrong but,

No offense this is

Loving in the changing times

Too bad, I think I just need too much

Or the weekends are too long

And he is in austerity mode

All of the fucking time

[We don’t wanna talk about it]

Tries me on for a winter long

I’m a foreigner I apologize

I apologize!


He reaches from across the table, I cringe

May your astonishing heavy structure and lively ridicule I’ve drawn in the eyes stop from bleeding off my fingers

On a paper that feels as old as papyrus “Who is this?” he asks and echoes my rampant scraping whims

I deny my own creation, a bold reincarnation of you; the one who carved me out of my cynical proposition

Stoicism piety man! We’re all heading the wrong direction!

Until I notice you at your utmost sophistication

I turn into my great great great grandmother at her territorial infraction

Suddenly a primate in me strives to join your costly world of perpetuation

Few seconds involuntary gaze,

The most ancient form of consent,

The healthiest instinct

Boiling from under history long resentments

Showing up from under cocoon like thousand years of layers and covers and paisley patterns

I chose you

And this dated back prior to

When your ancestors set fire on my imperial palaces

Before despondency had in-ordinated my cultural existence

Before I knew enough to blame heartfelt adventures on hormonal imbalance

**It wasn’t even me it was an archaic encryption in my double helices

**Deeper than the pulsing of veins and muscle fibers

A signal produced beneath my frontal cortex carried through my neural circuits

I chose you**

Before the two hard working egos who sat between you and I had earned their degrees

I knew in your cave we could’ve healed our pounded bodies Before I knew anything

Anything regards the foreigner me and the 9 to 5 er you

On top of all the difference, you were agnostic and cool and I wasn’t sure whether or not I’m a mystist

You had earned the luxury of being a winner, an over achiever,

Compared to you I was a basic hunter gatherer, Now just a weaver

You violated my bitter isolation


I chose you before I knew you’ll soon quit anticipation

I don’t need a remedy for over coming the obsession

I’m off to improvements and a doctorate degree and a bunch of introspection I didn’t need

If you hadn’t murdered all of our un-incepted tribal divergence

He reaches from across the table

I shy away with a machine like awkwardness

“Who is this?” he asks

I’m embroidering my loss

This is you, blood coming off my fingers

The paper IS as old as papyrus