Lingerie

I skip out some whores in my way home
I skip out some self-slaughter thoughts too
And three or four cold raindrops
Black as oil from a death Oldsmobile Rocket engine

The yellow light from the street lamps falls
Over the concrete like dozens of rotten eggs
The blackness is shinny like the teeth of your smile
When there’s booze around

I don’t think I’m gonna get over this rain
Oh, honey, I don’t even think I’m gonna make it to the train

So I keep crawling
Moving underneath the rusty aluminum marquees
Like an eel looking for my prey
Biting a match and a treacherous northerly wind
Last time I saw you, you kissed me so sweetly,
you sour orange marmalade queen.
“Don’t leave me”- you begged
“Tout peut s’oublier”
But you know that’s not truth

I don’t think I’m gonna get over this night
Oh, honey, I don’t even think I’m gonna make it to the next light

I try to hide behind the tide
My best enemy is having a smoke behind your closed door
I’m pretty sure she likes you
But then again who does not?
You lying queen

I can smell the cheap drag
I can smell your dashing perfume
And your candles burning

I remember the way you used to light them all for me
I just to think you were paradise

Now I have a pretty silver blade playing in my hands
Oh, I hope I can get out
Because tonight I just scent like a dead man

I don’t think I’m gonna get over this pain
Oh, honey, I don’t even think I’m gonna be able to avoid a nervous strain

So I walk, the devil by my side
Whispering things about my nails in your legs
‘bout your warm breath over my chest
Ah
Ah
Ah
… about my tongue licking your back…
and my teeth biting your butt…
Oh, I hope I can get out
Because tonight I am just dirt in the ground

I don’t think I’m gonna get over this rain
Oh, honey, I don’t even think I’m gonna make it to the train

King Louie gnarls and grumbles
I am doing what I can
I am trying to do my best, sweetheart
But you brought me way down here
And you treat me like a dog
I have lost your good thing
I am about to lose my head
I know some bird has walked in and took my place

I don’t think I’m gonna get the American angelica tree
Oh, honey, how can you do something like this to me?

a lyric for the black angels

I let you get whatever you want
the wound is beginning to heal
cut the ropes, cut the ropes
I listen to the phone ring
and I can't even count everything you stole

I swallowed all the humiliations
I even saw you digging in the dirt
just close your mouth and spell it
with all those pigs you like so much
you are just skin, you have nothing else
oh, you can't have anything else
you could have had it


lcd screen is all I have left
lcd and lsd
there is nothing else to break
I just feel my head way up way up

you grab that knife and stab me
if that is all you want
I don´t have no more meat to give you


I hear the water running
I hear her speaking low
this green room is naked and I can't even breath
when I see you coming from behind
sweet and far away

I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for you
no I would not
you know that


it's morning and is raining
you say I’m too sexy for your bed
but the problem is
I can't be anywhere else

Lay, lady Lay

Auburn lips, and velvet skies
crystal drugs to keep you tied
go down the green, go down

I can see your white body under the spasm lights
You and your blue blood waving goodbye

In the swamp’s shores
I thought of you and I melted
There’s nothing I can do
Oh my love, you were my shelter

Hear the thunder singing
Hear the lighting turning pale
My suit in the muddy waters
Covered by your white silk veil

You and your animals
under the roaring grass
my skin like cinnamon
dancing under a light bulb, fading fast

Don’t look at me
I get lost when you do that
Don’t talk to me
I just see you falling in the pit

Got to get away, got to hide
I can handle it anymore
The smog is getting thicker
I cannot stay by your sweet core

Your warm breath
Your alibis
Your body falling perfectly into mine

a sunny day in manhattan

it is sad and
somehow funny man

sad that you are still in love with her
that you still cannot sleep because of her
that it still hurts you when you realise she is not yours
that there is another mouth biting her back
her ass
her groins with monstrous
jumbo
excessive
thirst

another mouth much more hungry that yours
much bigger than yours
much more dirty
much more violent

another mouth that could break your dusty bones
with one flick of his eyes
a mouth that could drink the blood coming out from your neck
Without the slightest hesitation

***

it is somehow sad,
yes,
to be in your position
you tasted it
we know
and now you are thinking about all that
thinking about that other tongue eating your dessert like a damn barbarian
licking her soft soft tight pussy
wicked,
her ribs
the palms of her hands
perverted

sure it is something that can drive a man like you crazy

it is hard to envision
to assume
that you
with all your brick like,
barb wired
letters, words and poems
that look like unsalted smashed potatoes
dead dogs
and empty rooms
have nothing to do...

there is no sense in
trying to be The Chaser
Lou Reed
The Old Drinker
or whoever you are reading right to now...
pretending to be tough
wishing you had the balls

no use

come and get it
if you want the snake
show me the real you
I crave for it
I deserve it
I wanna see the colour of your fists
I am ready

***

... until that moment I will caress her cold belly with the tips of my fingers
and she will smile while she roasts my bones
because she burns everything
haven't you notice?
she burns the doors,
the walls
the desktops
the machines
the circus tops
the meat
she burns the whole warehouse
and where there is nothing left
she smokes and throws her matches over the dessert

***

all that sadness is a waist of time and energy
I am telling you
it is nonsense for you to think about the fact that
another dick is in her flesh everyday right now
that you still miss her
that you masturbate with her silky body in your mind
like it was a bayonet taking you to war
no sense
futile


it is sad and funny
because it is not your fault
and because all of us have been in the very same place as you
man
we've been in the restrooms
in the cars
alone at home in front of sick computers
4:00 am
surrounded by the bugs
feeling the teeth of the beasts so close
we have think about her
in the cheap hotels
in the smallest and darker hovels in Chinatown
the dives in Bombay
the flophouses in Bari

there are no secrets for us

We have met the models
the princesses
the whores
and we are still jerking off like ghosts
in the cold night
running to the swimming pool
killing ourselves
dancing in the Coney Island bulbs

***

We know all that...
you can bet your semi bald head
and listen kid,
we don't give a fuck

we prick you

I am fed up with this heat

With this sun

With these streets

With this smell

I am fed up with being unemployed

Underrated

Forgot

I am fed up with the cicadas’ song

With the lottery numbers

With not having any luck

With thinking about you

I am fed up with feeling stuck

With being unable to write

With this loneliness

I am fed up with the rotten flowers

The gnp

The dna

The gripe a

I am fed up with your complaints

Your getaways

With all your lies

I am fed up with every inch of me

With all my mess

with still loving you somehow

Scarlett

I am waiting for the phone to ring
It does not matter if it is 3:20 am in a paperback night,
that I am alone as a sick horse
or that you left without saying goodbye
I am still waiting for that phone to ring

I drive amongst the fox holes
the semi naked prostitutes
the garbage eaters
and your smell still shines like gold dust in my hands

no matter how many times I wash them

You are there, somewhere in this city
I know
And that is what hurts the most
because you will never be closer than this
and I am dying
and you have my number
and you just don’t…
I know

I am waiting for a miracle
and thought that you could be the answer
I know that all I can do is wait
look at the lithium screen
and wonder

I know that falling in love with you is like
waiting to grab a shooting star while I sit on my window
but I am still looking at the damn phone
while I sweat and bite my fingers and try to forget I am a fucking loser
and I will never feel the feathers of your skin near my face

I could be waiting for the seas to open
the mountains to crumble
the winds to blow until this city is erased
but I am waiting for that phone to ring
Babe
And I hurt myself
And think about the bracelets in your wrists
And
Sincerely
I have no other answer

poison cup

Búho blanco
gafas de sol
el general McCarthur en la piscina
apuntando con su dedo índice a las palomas.

David Lynch rodeado de mujeres filipinas
comiendo con palillos saltamontes fritos
perfecto pelo peinado gris

Llueve otra vez
con ese meloso acento de Alabama
entre dientes

El humo sale de los cuerpos
como signos de puntuación
que nunca consigo poner en su lugar

La revolución naranja
está aquí
rebelión de blancos ricos en conches enormes
de negros con chanclas de ducha y calcetines
hablando por el teléfono móvil

3 dólares
tofu
lechuga
231
4331
5515
asap


Campo de golf como caas de cereales vacías
Love bugs
Brisa
ramas enredadas en las
palmeras

Un grupo de hare krishna canta
bajo las sombras de los árboles
chica hindú con chándal fucsia
desecha

revistas de moda
futón
propaganda en el buzón




Hay peleas de gallos en la cocina
la moqueta pincha los pies por que está medio hecha de dientes de tiburón y diamantes despedazados
venga, sal de aquí, nadie te necesita
y los golpes de tu rotulador me están poniendo enfermo

no hay de tierra alrededor
solo la vieja tela de barco
el capitán solo responde con gruñidos
la botella de aguarrás en sus manos parece un ramo de flores podridas

Cada vez que abro la latas de conserva
Ginsberg sale y recita Aullido
Su barba golpea y nadie ríe

sólo Warhol
su melena amarillenta como la de mar-ilyn
se engancha en las gafas cuando se destapa
ya no es el que era

No te pido más
no te pido nada
me mantengo tibio
yo solo
cuando las hormigas de fuego me calientan la piel

Washington soleado
el Capitolio sobre el lago
Uh, la policía más guapa que he visto en mi vida
pone las esposas de plástico como nadie
pero huele a sudor y nada es ya lo que era

Me gusta la comida Krisnha
es lo único que no parece violento
cuando las luces de la harley me ciegan por haberme saltado un stop
oh oh oh oficial
ha debido ser un error
no pretendía meter la mano por ahí
la colecta de la iglesia!
mi pensamiento estaba con el presidente
se lo aseguro
no se nada de mi pequeño libro rojo
no me dijo nada de eso
no se preocupe
no volverá a pasar

… y las chicas histéricas bailan sobre la mesa
del hooters
camisetas con caimanes
cerveza blue moon

que hay que beber a escondidas
en una bolsa de papel marrón
me pregunto cómo dormirán en sus cuartos

baby doll es demasiado joven
demasiado joven y demasiado lista
lame su heridas tan bien…
lame como nadie más
trae loco al cuervo de la Nación
tan atento a todo lo que no deber ser hecho
que apenas le queda aliento
para hacer lo que le da la gana

los socialistas negros se reúnen en acción de gracias
los periódicos de la bamba
gruñen por que no han dormido bien
una mala postura
dicen
y se masajean el cuello a ostias
con un pescado azul

bajo el neón
la bandera
la primera enmienda
la casa de citas
todo edulcorado por
la saliva
tengo un temblor en las piernas que no puedo parar

no es eso, de verdad
sólo que Howling Wolf es demasiado fuerte para esta hora de la noche
te lo dije
Bo’ ha salido del hospital
y oigo su coche
por la avenida empapada de aceite
colillas

las elecciones en Ucrania
han salido como esperábamos
“esos malditos rusos tienen la mafia más peligrosa del mundo”
la tierra se calienta y yo puedo entenderlo mejor que nadie por que me arde
la boca desde los pies
y no hay nada que pueda hacer para evitarlo
yo sólo vine a por un micrófono y ahora estoy tan perdido…

“tengo demasiadas preguntas”
dice el visionario L.
wagner vino a comer a casa
cae a mares sobre nuestras cabezas
su mujer es fantástica y casi nunca usa sujetador
demasiado joven para él
demasiado joven para mi
y para las aves del tejado
que repiten una y otra vez
“If love is a poison cup I wanna drink it all”