… one dry day

the road
what the hell?
the road
and that sinking feeling
that last day on earth feeling
that feeling of speed loneliness
that "i don't love her anymore" feeling
that last night on wheels feeling

it was august i recall
it was a bare naked feeling
made of little black shinny cigarettes
that smell like clove
sweet hong kong girls
and tall blonde women that taste like strawberry juice

fake sunglasses
memorabilia
vodka & orange by the river

… but anyway
don't pay any attention to me
it's just a storm of words
that's all
blurry lights in the paper night
UFOs
love
and lost
and all those things
that always happen to be there when you don't think about them
or when you are half slept

or when your stomach aches like a motherfucker
on a friday night and you are by yourself
in a hotel room
in the middle of nowhere
cold feet
broken heart
and piss off because your dam neighbor
is playing that awful music all the time

that kind of feeling
that speed
that loneliness
that warsaw

poem for l

fuck it

fuck “the powers of now”
the “how to change your lives”
the dam habits of the dam “highly effective people”
the side show shrinks
the late afternoon bastards with that easy smile

I don’t wanna be like you
I don’t wanna feel like you

I just wanna lick her legs
and not having to work

I don’t wanna have a fake god
a fake friend
a fake family
a fake happiness

fuck you

don’t try to sell me Salvation,
Salvation never lasts,
is an illusion

don’t try to sell me anything,
don’t try to sell me peace of mind,
peace of mind is a motherfucker,
you have to work on her every day,
and even if you do, she remains quite

fuck the ones who take you by the arm and tell you something like
“it’s all in your hands”
“there’s nothing you can’t get if you really want it”
“I Can Make You Confident”

If it was in my hands
you will be in a hole in the ground;
if I could get anything I really wanted
I would not be working in this shit job,
for this dam money;
and if you want to make a confident guy out of me,
stop telling me I am not

fuck you all
I can’t stand you, liars
there’s no cheap way to put it
there’s no nice way to say it

I do need nobody to inspire me to "unlock my creative potential"
I don’t need your fucking pyramids,
the fucking graphics,
the colurful schemes,
the cheesy powerpoints

fuck the self-discovery,
the god-discovery,
the give-me-all the-money-you-have-discovery,
the spiritual growth and the personal development,
the truth is never in your tongues,
don’t give me that shit

we are lost,
there are no answers

enough with that bullshit,
enough with that the crap

we don’t need that shit,
we don’t need no more superficiality,
compulsive buying,
egocentric,
stupid rules

Don’t trust the ones that want to sell you “the secret”,
there is none,

everything is plain to see

everybody knows what is all this shit about,
and if you think you don’t
read the newspapers,
listen to the people around you,
open your fucking ears and your fucking eyes

and if you still cannot see it
well… fuck you too

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