Crimson Secret

In through the back door, on the couch
Scent of jasmine and lillies, perfect
Ice in the scotch chinked a tune
Approached her on the blacony, unchecked
My hand on her shoulder, smiled back, a sign
Eyes wandered to the fabric, divine
Met my gaze, whet my thoughts, ardour
Our drinks can wait, would her spouse ? Torpor
Before the fire, on the rug
Yearn caught on fire, in veins, start a chug
Her shiver, her breathe, her sweat, glisten
Dancing to the Howlin’ Wolf, prefect rythm
Thrust, unite, firm grip,
Ecstacy, procurement, bodies drip

The ice melted, the jasmine slept,
My smell lingers on her, crept up in her bed
Backdoor alarm, time to go
Society asleep, blind, rooster crow,
Only she will know.

Life was reduced to this…

Life was reduced to grey ashes being dusted in a silver ashtray.

Life was reduced to a few gulps of beer after work.

It was reduced to a sense of something that meant nothing to many

a nothing I looked forward to.

The beauty of it was underrated

the meaning lost in senseless attempts for explanation.

It was tempting to think of what could happen

if I let it happen.

Everything at the tip of my fingers

and I keep letting it slip away…

as if writing about it would bring some of it back

I gain a little of what I lost

before letting go again

in a twirl of thoughts coming and going


reminding me to loosen the grip even more.

Dead Again

Take my hand let’s take off
Together, now,
Pull the drapes, gulp the pill
Let’s laugh somehow

Burn the future, no debate
Just close your eyes
Let’s spoil time, misbehave
Show me around

This is it ,our fate, destroy
Right, now,
Wear a cape, fly away

Goes around, comes around
I’m fallin down
You won’t be there, never sane
Paranoid frown

I’ll be there in the train
Waiting for you to come
Catch the plane, let me down
Perfect nightmare, run-down,
Let it shine, let it rain
I know you’ll kill me again

Ginger June

She was the ginger he liked from school

She was insecure, but acted kinda cool

And he, a self-crowned king, who didn’t rule


He watched her ride her bike everyday

Her summer dress swaying in the air

While he sat on his car and smoked as he dreamt


Swimming in the lake on a summer noon

There she was beside him, ginger June

He blinked and she was gone, than he dreamt in the

Full moon

She glanced at him one time, in the park

He spent a lifetime with her in a spark

That night in the dark, the king ruled


Spoken Words

I squeezed my thighs in-between the stools

after a long struggle… I sat down.

I took out one of my Dunhills from the red, fancy box

I took out my pen and notebook.

Cigarette after cigarette and puff after puff

I wondered what would be the best poem to recite

“spoken words” they call it ( don’t ask me “who are they?”)

but mine are hidden behind a strange white fog coming out of my mouth.

No… It doesn’t rhyme

and it doesn’t really matter

Whatever works.


The shiver must have kicked in by now

The stuttering is most probably taking place,

and the guy sitting two stools away

is worse at his words than I am.

He said he found a new job

I asked him where

he shrugged and said:

“I don’t know.”

Well, fuck you too.


I hold up my pint and take another swig,

It’s the best thing to do.

AIDS In The Mail

Cinnamon flavored toilet paper
Priest a rapist, lawyer viper
Smartphones, lost souls, plastic ducks
Bankers pimping your mothers bucks
Your face will be priceless
When the platypus rocks

Mass media massacre, pesticides
Suicides, rotten prides, genocides
Sodomizing terrorists, aids in the mail
My head is in orbit, your future is on sale

Well that’s it folks
You spilled all the yolks
Keep stroking the hoax
Your face will be priceless
When the platypus rocks.

God Damn Loan

Bored of college, hair full of dandruff
A sip, a gulp, a snort, a puff
From coffee shops to bookshops
My route all-known,
I still have to pay that goddamn loan

Backdoor-man, poet of windows
Blondes, brunettes and indigos
Different dorm, different moan,
I still have to pay that goddamn loan

Janitor’s son, shame and misfortune
Alchemist, pessimist, three-legged urchin
No phone, no crown, no comfort zone,
I still have to pay that goddamn loan

God, Satan, Jah, George Carlin
The Doors, Sabbath, Floyd and Zeppelin
Crucified, burnt, missing or blown
I still have to pay that goddamn loan.