les pauvres cœurs


Wednesday, February 13, 2008

jet stream unconcious knowledge

The controversy is in the conversion

to rise and awaken my beaten
beat body beat soul oh my
Kerouac and Ginsberg leaning keeping
that lamp in its place
broken glass the lightbulb he dropped
sticking feet bloody tracks the floor
the floor how can we forget the floor
smeared 'cross your lips the shine
mein lieben ich brauchen ein package
zu Amerika the land of foreign nationals
and currency that I have lost
dizzied from the dizzy heights
the tower we've leapt from
the waters we lap from
the Rhein where we never swam and can't
too cold it is forever too cold

sleep oh sweet sleep of blackness
forever forgetting dreams of nonsense
explosions hearts beat faster
in the dark we know each other
or rather you are trying to know me
and I will not let you I hate your
wandering hands and prying eyes
kiss my sweet American lips
that fuzzy place is coming the gray before dawn
a moment before I am aware
the rain that beats in shamed silence
the fog that pulls to faraway memories
the things I miss while I drift in
seas of dreamsand and your fingerskins
my back
no
stop
don't. touch. me.

1 comment:

Agent Jellie said...

Mystery is always something of a gamble, giving hope to extasia and danger of awaking stripped and barren , regretting everything you shouldn't have done. Love is worth a many number of things. Fractures heal. Scars fade. Hangovers end and sweat washes away. Only you can judge how much you are willing to gamble.