Mornington Crescent IV

My heart is shaking
My soul is quaking
and my worries and pains are breaking apart
i throw them in the air
like bred crumbs
and the pigeons savagely feast on them
i watch, i sigh
the busses, the lorries, the cars pass by
and they roar like the lioness in my heart

And the kitten girl
sitting on this bench in the sun
is sheltered by the red, the grey, the green, the brown
all round
she sucks on the breast of this moment
where milk drops from the sky
with the sunbeams that tan and warm her neck
that she erects
in confidence and pride

She reigns
and loves to watch
how her pains fill the tiny bellies
of a careless race
she can return, return to this place
dance with shadowy creatures
and re-write the tale -

The tale of the girl who fell into a rat hole
to re-emerge from a crescent in the sky
and be nested on a bench
and be turned into a wild cat
by the red-bricked wall of miracles
showering her in morning(ton) dew
and gracing her purified self
with the gift of another day
on the Londonian square in the sun

I can see the waves

from birth onwards they pin us up
with needles and sticks
neat & nice
safe & sound
but how can you help
how can you help it
if you are just a Maverick
craving for the waves
with a savage hunger
reasonating in your voice, heart, head
go! run! scream! attack!
scatter your dream
without ever looking back!
up, up and away
and when the waves break
and you feel a crack in your voice, heart, head
it´s over
you´ve overtaken them
and you don´t have to sleep and repeat
over and over again
always waking up dead

balloons

All this beauty, all these privileges
fall into your lap
but you can´t stir, can´t get up
you feel like a chewing gum
that has been chewed on for too long
foul taste in the mouth
but you can´t spit yourself out
your skin, your sins
are wrapped too tightly, too mightyly
around you
you´re sore, you´re the wound, the splitting
you caused when you were born
- reborn into consciousness
the splitting between
light and dark
heart and reason
life and scars
love and treason
you love the void
the womb devoid of
judgement, clarity, people
and all those years
that have and will
waste your youth and spirit away
can I resist
can I insist on all those ideals
hanging in my sky
like balloons on a line
ready to flood the world
with a cunning smile
and airy delight

junk food

In the dark
covered in sweat, stale breath, hairy legs
squeezed and twisted by hands, arms, demands
entitlement is what dashes through my head
i could have gone
but i smiled and played my part
i let me on, him on, us on, and on, and on
and i pretended to be smart
when all my masks
had long slipped off
drained in a drink, a word, a way too much
a way of saying what?
i don´t want this, but i can´t stop
i need illusions, illusions of fusion
of being capable of not caring but always daring
and doing it all, in a mighty wave of lust, of bodily machinery,
biting, battling, licking, sticking, wet, quavery
grabbing into, under skin, sucking and fucking
repeating, repeating what we both know
the poor sick´ning show
of yet another act
meaningless, faceless, careless
and when you wake up
you will crawl back into a you
that would like to pretend that none of this was true
just like a dream-
except for leaving a slimy, sticky, wretched
scene on your skin, on your tongue
and a deeper loneliness
scratched free from the plastic glitter, the stupid admittance
that you are the milk, a sweet, swelling flesh
a junk food substitute for a mummy´s breast
so desperate for attention, so easily led
to any dam bed,
pressed into any stained, rotten cushion
dead as fish but slashed open
for beastly feasts
the expectable conclusion
have me, chew on me, suck off my taste
with your hands, your mouth, in haste, in haste
then spit me back
to where you have never known me
never shown me the hungry eyes,
the man to my feet
the man who means me
the wet and the warm and the will-less woman
whom I now despise

stupid thing

there it is
again
one of these sickening, piercing, engulfing
moments of loneliness
a bursting, thirsty puppy
my heart
a well-worn pain
around my eyes, in my neck
a burning, stitching, suffocating,
penetrating
thought that I so dread
that is all and everything, the only sky, earth, universe
reason to be, and not want to be anymore
in my head, inside, all over me,
creeping, never sleeping,
invading like an army of rainfalls, of nailfalls
having me down and open and bleeding out
all posture, power, dignity
I miss you
please, please!
- just let me forget, switch off
all images of this skin, this kindness, this warmth
a room so cruely deceptive
it has given me all these little things
that i hold on to
that may have long, long gone through
another gate, with another wave, saying goodbye
and i cannot even cry
like dust you reappear,
when the light falls in through the window
and all surfaces are covered by ashes
you left in time, in space, in the realities of my place
and there are many,
forever present, forever burning
the leftovers of when we were
only what we shared
what was it? and why did you not take it?
just take it ALL with you
leave me in peace, leave me bereaved of a feeling
i wish now i´d never had
stupid me to ever think
that i could give with my arms, my words
what i received
and somehow i always knew
that when i go
i would lose you
and when i stay i would lose you
and all those ashes now stare at me, swear at me:
"you stupid thing! we are what we were -
flakes of nothingness. what were you thinking?"
and i hear the laughter, the laughter of mockery, disgust
hailing down
on me
in me
i am pure intensity

moth

The bass is drumming on my mind
so heavily I cannot even think, or hear, or feel
just noise, vibrations, light and fog
all these posh people
this spilling, thrilling circus
a carousel spinning faster, and faster
and LOUDER
what the fuck am I doing here?
I am bandaged by two wrist bands
what do they mean?
-"Bang the nails in here!"
-"Pin me to the wall!"
I am the moth
in the glass box
that no-one will ever see
yet I am so aware,
so aware of the dark, of my own shadow
I am everywhere, nowhere
motionless, invisible
yet piercing savagely through the dark

This is not my place here
I have no face here
but where, where do I belong?
I cannot, cannot swarm with the herd,
flutter through the night,
shake off the dust, unfold
take on colour - blue, green
flicker, steam, dance, forget myself
in the spotlights
blurred, blurred, cast away and mindless
in my disguise
but that is the point: I AM this
I cannot shake it off
yet I am still sitting here
scribbling my fingers, my brains off,
ruining my ears, my skin...
Get up! Go NOW!
I can´t.
So how long, how long will I need to carry on?

Mornington Crescent II & III

Triangular shaped heart
center of what?
a pigeon hole for a lucky race
no-one sees just what i face
when i look up at you
red bricks, black bold letters
i know, i know that nothing matters
nothing but you
this moment
no lies, no truths, no long lost youth
you have never seen flowers
but you know the walks, the talks of man
daily chattering
kisses
where encounters start, end
departure
oh no!
let me hide inside you
feed the worm
lingering beneath you
vibrations, speed, tunnels,
darkness and a flood
of unknown faces, legs, voices
and above all that
is you
always, forever
towering above a cross, a bent in the road
paving ways
for the happy, the lonely, the memorable, the lost
parades
of a life time
Camden Town
that´s where they lead
plastic furs, brushed, painted youths
swarming in-out clashing and laughing
in the streets, the clubs, the drumming pubs
can i lie down?
sink into the pavement
the earth, the tunnel
that carries me away
in dirty waters
in endless arrays of filthy utensils
washed off the side walks, the asphalt
by the rain
pouring down
from a thick grey blanket
of massy clouds
i float in silence
white, stained, dead
among
cigarette ends, broken glass, plastic cups,
bags, wrappings, papers, flyers, spit, chewing gum,
somethings, no things,
reminders of the lives passing by
at day, at night
and leaving behind
a river of that which embroiders my grave
keeps me company
when i have ripped off the slave
from my existence
fed it to the pigeons
and loved the grey heart, the red wall,
the infamous hall
of magnetic moments
for one last time
for one last time
at peace
at liberty
a dream, just a dream
but my witness is she
a tube station
and my heart pounds so loudly, lively
heavy but free
from threats of devastation, distortion, abortion
Mornington Crescent
to you I return
your tale is mine to tell
till the end
a lullaby
a melody
soft, light, pleasant

------------------------------------------------------------------
A man is swearing at the pigeons -and whatever and whoever else-
and feeding them at the same time
the birds don´t care
they want to be fed
and he? what does he want?
does he have a message?
something to uncover the poisonous deeds and lies
that we -as mankind- are fed on, are feeding ourselves on?
are we anymore aware, anymore caring, anymore smart and enlighted than those birds?
are we any better?
they inhabit the no-places, the no-spaces
the leaks
in the matrix
of wealth, fame, haste
where all thinking, dreaming, resting, wrestling
with pains of the heart, the soul, the divine and poetry
is waste
i´d rather be flushed into a leak,
watch the pigeons,
play hide-and-seek with words, selves, and how they divert, unite
than to give in to the machinery
of wannabe genuine realities
of surpressed suffering, greed
and sacrifice of ideals, of longings
of never knowing, never showing
how all of this feels
the sun in my neck
Mornington Crescent
my shelter
my rest
a cradle of pigeons
picking, tip-toeing
fighting for bread
grey, persistent, resisting
more enviable than
wars, monuments, minds
of steel, of lead