CORRECT SENTENCES AND INCORRECT ONES

Correct sentences and incorrect ones. The correct ones become the incorrect ones. Good is bad. You caught a dark sun and put it in your hat. You keep a monster. Dark arms fall unto your face. They beat us. We die.

Our tears are useless. Even the salt from our tears, you don’t want it. Your blood of self-righteous anger against our blood of despair. Children under your feet.

Dirt in that thing you call your heart. Spiders of evil words thrown at us to cheat the world. Flags to strangle us. We’ve never seen a snow flake. We can’t go anywhere. Little brown birds have more freedom than us. Water running away from your holy body holes has more freedom than us.

Do not search here for a sentence that means a thing to you. You do not understand. You are beyond the ordinary understanding of space and time. You look at me just as a possible gift of smoke for your ancient Blue Sky god. Your father is still hungry?

I spit up in the air.

We should be asleep. Our mind is gone after our sleep. We fall apart, the broken robot beings of your weak imagination. My thoughts mean nothing to you. My cries do not reach your ears. You say four hundred, after I’ve said one—twenty over the years.

Your tongue has grown heavy with lies. Now your shoulders hate you. Your feet will soon refuse to obey you. Blue Sky god is thinking: “What’s the problem with these folks?”

What is wrong? It does not matter. Just sell me the means and I will show you how right I am. Before the year ends (in a few hours from now) everybody close their eyes. There will be no surprise, no cry of you, no nothing, just people.

::: ::: :::

Picture: There is no picture

ICE SKATERS

this morning on my way to work
on the Big Stone Bridge I saw the river
frozen at places

I imagined ducks ice skating on the Moskva

half-way across the bridge a man was shouting
at the waters, at the ice
holding his head with both hands

he looked angry
aggressive, perhaps dangerous
to me?

another man passed by, old one, shuffling snow
he smiled at me
his face was red from the cold

I was walking backward checking on the shouting man
thinking he could have jumped
into the waters, the ice

mix with the ice skating ducks

flags on the bridge
lengths of brightly colored material
kicking in the wind

well, i reached the metro station
removed my woolen gloves
the escalator took me down, deep, very deep

I lost a glove
somebody yelled STOP
I didn't pay attention, but a young guy ran to me

then I was in the train
fast moving one, very noisy, Moscow metro
a book with me, sometimes I read a few sentences

enough to give me something to think about
this morning, Marquis de Sade
words of power, but dirty

oh, the darkness
oh, ice skating ducks
oh, shouting man, lost glove, moving train

in Russia if you are unemployed you get $20 a month
that's about
twenty beers at the grocery store

could one live on that
like the writers on the Beat
used to live with one ice cream cone a day?

perhaps I read too much
inflation going up, talks of deflation, price of oil is up
nobody happy

guys at the US government borrow money
from other guys at the Federal Reserve
at a cost, and who is paying?

tax payers must return the borrowed money
+ the interest
money that doesn't exist, it's just a trick

money should be printed free of charge
like oxygen is free
money must be free

tonight in the metro I saw a beautiful woman
next to her sat a handsome man smiling
the two of them were smiling at me

I was smiling back
they came off the train waving at me
what a world !

the sky was blue when I woke up
was it this morning
or the next?

the church down from my balcony has pink walls
cupolas five of them covered with gold
there you go, something to think of

cupolas like onions with a cross put on top
peel off the onion skins and you're left with nothing
the cross above it means Love stands above it

love standing on the Void
love saving us from the absurdity of your fate
love and life against nothing and darkness

::: ::: :::

Picture : A tired door

Note: "ICE SKATERS" was a boring long text which I turned into this perhaps more readable poem on August 26, 2012.

WILL ART NATURE WHAT?

two books on my coffee table
Qu’est-ce que l’art? by Tolstoy
and De la volonté dans la nature by Arthur Schopenhauer

I have little to say about them
except about their cover
well, both are red

red eyes red
heart drawing of little children red
poor dog bloody red after you've shot it with a gun

I don't read books anymore
instead I am wasting my time reading essays
all of them about the obvious madness of our leaders

yesterday this quote came to my screen:
“There are worse crimes than burning books.
One of them is not reading them.” -Joseph Brodsky

my interest for the obvious madness of our leaders
has turned me into a criminal
one who is not reading the books on his coffee table

I must go back to reading books
just like I used to do
reading them while walking home from school

monsters come from all directions
will art nature what?
oh, one monster is already here

::: ::: :::

Picture: Time-fast by reading_is_dangerous

THE WAVES OF YOU AND ME

she asks:
“How is your day?”

it's okay

but not great
just another day, another day

it resembles thousands like it
darkness against the light bulbs
the computer screen
the evil chair
the stupid keyboard
one hundred documents awaiting to be read

I have the figures
the number of deaths in G., at hospital X
this was year 2007

gun shot trauma: three eight, not too bad
body injury, irritation, trauma: six zero
heart failure: eight three
car accidents: eight nine
other reasons: one four six

to breathe
to breathe
to breathe

I really am only a fish
that’s trying hard to breathe
out here in the cold air

tell me where the door is
the doorway by the beach
that leads back to the eternal sea
back to the waves of you and me

::: ::: :::

Picture: A door is never just a door