haikus for

bajo las orquídeas blancas
cierro los ojos
me muerdo los dedos
escucho a las ambulancias pasar
y pienso en ti, claro

***

Kenya is blowing up in pieces
the snow covers New York
like a white dragon halo
and all I can do is stare
at your picture on the little frame


***

lo ultimo que recuerdo de ella
son sus ojos verdes
bajo la luz amarillenta
de mi cuarto
como luces de papel a lo lejos perdiéndose en el mar

***

la lluvia golpea las ventanas
como si alquien lanzara puñados de agujas
solo
sobre el viejo suelo de madera
una flor pálida
en mis manos

***

my feet are damn cold
I listen to sour songs in the radio
the beautiful snow surrounds me like a hound of angry dogs
I have your delicate scarf with black stars around my neck
I miss you
I miss feeling like I am back home again

i could use somebody

m is like a little cloud of creek delicate eyes,
messy hair
thin white LM cigarettes
and bad words

m is like a walking nervous breakdown
with those plimsolls stepping up and down the bar
the top of the car
my feet
my face

m is really lovely when she is not completely drunk
and i talk to her about all these things
my ghost
the dead people
and such

she drives almost lying in the drivers place
and starts and stops so fast that
i feel like somebody is shaking my guts with a pitchfork
i like it for a while
i like how she fights with herself
how she forgets the dam ticket for the fucking parking
how she misses the traffic lights
how the machine eats her money and never delivers the stupid ticket...

her stomach aches
and she smokes
and she takes the smoke out
and surrounds herself with nicotine like a life vest
and changes the gear
and tells me about her problems with this guy
she used to be with
and smokes
and takes the smoke out
and changes the gear

i embrace her

and

after a few seconds

she embraces me stronger

m is a mess of beautiful turquoise eyes
and smoke from her thin white LM cigarettes
m is really lovely when she is not completely drunk

alive

“You can’t beat death but you can beat death in life” Ch. B.

I see dead people all the time, kid
All the time
I am surrounded by dead people
No matter where I lay my stupid eyes
They are everywhere
Like zombies
Dirty green saliva coming out of their mouths

I see them
they carry plastic bags filled with food from the supermarket
They drive SUV’s like carriages for the dead
They have kids like they had golden bracelets or blue watermelons
They don’t listen to you when you talk
They just don’t even look at you when you pass by

They hide their faces in the subway under empty newspapers
They drink beer from the can at 12 in the morning
They have proper jobs
They earn money
They pay their taxes
And jerk off
Like the rest of us
But they are dead

Some of them sell their bodies
And they are hot as hell, I must admit
Some others give their hands and heads away to friends
Enemies
Fathers
bosses
Mothers

Some others give their bodies to the Church, or the clergymen
Or to stupid and impotent second hand musicians
While they tell you about their mean mother and how empty their life is

They are dead
Absolutely dead

There are a lot of them sniffing cocaine
Swimming in ketamine
Licking the crystals in the little white paper bag like they were licking asses
Eating bugs
Or blowing a louse


They wanna live
But they are all dead

I am even afraid of touching them
Their skin’s cold like a bullet
There’s no heart inside the chest
No blood
No brain
No guts
Just air
Rotten air
Money air
Envy air
Fake air

You might touch them
You might have sex with them
You might have missed them
You might have even loved them
But they are dead
You gotta live with that, man

They watch garbage on the tv all the time
They smile and joke
Some of them even go to concerts
Or read Kerouac
Or plan to go and see a Fellini movie…

They even have good music in their ipods
They send each other text messages
With happy faces and shit
But they are dead
And they know it
They are just trying to forget about it
Deny it
Forget they are dead
As it could be possible…
That’s the worst thing
Knowing that you are living a lie

They travel to far away places
In low cost planes
Or get drunk in crowded VIP rooms
They go to Sidney or Tokyo or Los Angeles
And they wish they were in another place all the time
Away from the tombstones
The bad smell
the self indulgence
but we cannot
is inside us
is just a question of time and balls

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