"THE WORDS WE LIVE WITH"
A young barrister, on his wedding
night, was in awful fear of being
accused of "breaking and entering"
Poems
Vladivostok
Private Collection "SeaHorse"
2014
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HIGH POETRY
“High poetry”, as high school teaches,
Is very, very high.
And so I’m a climbing mule:
The sky is surely nigh…
But is there air in the heights?
Or does breathing stop at all?
While dying, I see Pearly Gates,
And an angel, very tall…
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ALTER EGO
You can’t go home again.
Your home forever lost.
The roads are many – all vain?!
Your spirit’s your only host,
It leads you to the furthest reaches –
Your foe? Friend? Neutral being?
It does not proclaim, never teaches
And smiles at your direst fling.
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COLDLIFEDNESS
Beyond the call of duty
This life of mine, so called.
I am not shy of beauty,
But beauty is so cold…
This pain – my fire eternal –
Or is this fire hot?
Consumes, like throat-over-all.
I am thinking: where is God?
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DYING
Steps, so faltering, under the rain.
Drops of his blood galore,
One of the arteries cut, not the main.
Somebody’s killing valor…
Air becoming thin and weak
Bloodied knife fell behind…
God has forsaken all the weak.
Who ever thought he was kind?
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ENTROPY
You’re becoming weaker, weaker
Every passing, fucking day.
Gods above – they only snicker,
Seeing us all being put away…
Every single trait of living
Is becoming something else.
Who is the enemy and stealing
Our home, Old Earth?
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PREDETERMINATION/PREDESTINATION
It does not make the least impression
Upon the course of any life –
Serenite;, or rabid passion:
The end is always, always rife…
You could achieve all kind of valor,
But what is valor? Empty shell.
Your ship is sailing, sky is stellar
And lo! The sulphur* burns the marine smell.
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* It smells of sulphur in Hell
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THE ONLY WAY TO HEAVEN
Diminishing my own sins,
Greatening the sins of others,
I try to get my soul in –
Into the God-possessed gardens.
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THE STRUCTURE OF A NOVEL
Making points – all written prose
Fairy castle in any book.
Who is forming life’s pose?
And polishing life’s look?
Not the writer, word-enriched,
Not the reader, word-obsessed.
Higher conscience, high in the bleachers –
Trying to postpone the press…
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THE WIND OF TIME?
Globalization of the mind,
Instead of the economics –
The world is becoming so kind,
Instead of the ramping rabies.
If this such wind could really be,
The people would sigh in rapture.
Not yet? Then don’t trouble me:
I’m in world-trading captured.
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A SIGH
A sigh, a kind of moaning,
Issuing from your depth.
Just shows despair growing,
Your life’s becoming less.
Maybe your expiration
Will reach higher clouds.
This is your destination:
Your travels' lastest beach.
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SELF-BEING
Amongst the many strongest feelings,
A feeling of self-being persists.
It hurts, a failed tooth-filling!
But nobody wants it to desist.
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LIAR
Disease, so fatal.
Sickness, dire.
Love gobbles all –
Ungodly liar.
But time confuses
All fire’s heat.
One is enthused?
An empty treat…
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FEMALE INSTINCTS
Female instincts can go rampant
In the surrounding male world.
Do women prey, oh so flamboyant,
Or does this mimic, ages-old?
A glimpse of one of them when driving:
A feral cat with hidden claws.
But never fear: the brakes are “diving” –
Although, maybe, with some remorse.
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THAT'S TOUGH!
It’s so difficult, sometimes,
Consequences from cause discern.
And ‘breath’ and ‘death’ so easily rhyme,
The air will your soul burn.
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THE PRICE
The price of a moment’s pleasure
May be the years of severe pain.
Where is, if is, the proper measure?
I strive to find, but still in vain.
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REMAINS
The stresses of your life – be gone!
But what remains?
You are, maybe, alone
With your mind’s strains.
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AFTER SIXTY
The youth is just beginning,
After sixty years.
What is the life? The spinning
I draw from deepest depth
… Where is the deep, I wonder –
At the start or at the end?
By longing torn asunder,
I live in fire-band.
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ID
Something dark I see in sex…
Dark and very ominous.
Yes, akin a nightly see –
Waves at play, so furious…
Who is drowning and why?
Who is eas’ly swimming?
Human past is always nigh,
ID is surely winning.
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BODY THOUGHTS
Your body lives apart of you –
You as a thinking entity.
And thoughts are sounds from the flute –
Your real, feeble identity.
