recipe

a mass of people in a midan midan of snowflakes no not snowflakes of flags of stone almonds and rice with milk with powdered white steam making tea come out of choo choo trolleys and more milk for the barley of pale male robes hanging down on cotton candy by the shiny lady who is wearing metalic pants ultra light of the semiramis intercontinental shining through dusk smoke bomb painted silver of crowds and crowds and crowds and crowds with tin bowls and itchy town faces who are neither winning nor loosing from the crying gas

You face me like an Atlas, broad and far in scope, distance, I can surely travel there. Sometime. Sometime soon? I'm seeing Hungary in your eyes now. And the baths of Budapest. Water baby, come with me. Lets go to one of the Poles. Or Poland? We can live an underground life in the kracks of... Moldova, up the river, down the path, of your nose. I know we will eventually. See eachother there. at the mouth. 

Spare

he drowns inside his own eyes. steep the water goes. flowing out out and into thin air. he doesn't know. he doesn't care. he thinks this is the way it is. the world and the air. this thick smoggy headache city. his babies swim away from her there. without a care. 

Nothing more. No. naked eyes love her for its as if she has always been there.

The smell is stale. It can't wake up. It can't open its eyes to breath fresh air. The air is not fresh anymore. If it ever was. his eyes are deafened by their depth, damp trodden brown, he stares alot now. 

Its damp down there.

spare

The Earing makers + Like bears

The Earring Makers

Two earring makers
revealed themselves to her
as earring makers.
The first a long time ago.
The second just recently.
But she doesn't wear earrings.
Among other things.

babe

Meet me, greet me, eease me into your world
Give me reasons to do things,
build me with your tools
but don't tell me what not to do
and don't you take my tools away

I'm going to be everything you don't want, and more.

Bear with me

PDF forever, Rough Guide unfinished

Locked in the contours of a face, wide eye and cheeks abroad

A paradise, but only in a layer

I stay there, for a long time, too long

I am captive, but I don't dig -

I have the tools I think, but I am afraid they won't work

For this is not a real place, not one that can really be attacked or altered

It choses itself and our experiences in it, as if we don't have a will

but we do.

Annihilation

Theres something so tantilising about a surface

Unbroken and untainted

Holding us there, in smooth valleys

between the features and down in large ponds

but there is limited wildlife here

and the bays they are stark and the waters see-through

A quiet place, for birdseye babes

Flat chested seagulls

who coo at the sight of a one sided world

we weep at the surface, we dine there

again and again and again and again

but the food, it is tasteless

as it always was.

green

Interlocked, on the Tahrir junction, now, garden , the smell of linen, detergent, and behind the ears

of what anyone might call love; is not enough to take me, this time, through the sleepless city, back to your ship of giant ants, and warmth, and comfort, a three storey desert house, of faded fabric, junk yard, balconies galore, and rooftop watching.

shabby matresses, and that turkish coffee morning; spilling over into the dawn of a new day slept through, a big sleep and never let go - of two docile bodies, clinging on like broken babies, in a city of bodies everywhere. Revolution? I don't want to leave - from this patch of grass, on the Tahrir junction garden; dressed and unable to touch properly, in safety, we are being watched.

paralized on a patch of grass, grown on top of old terror, new seeds planted - not another land, just another layer, I don't want to go.

Hijabis night bathing in blood, on this green spot of evolution.

Have a cup of tea koshari, the roots are a pain in my side, but, I just don't want to move






hale a taxi
but don't you go.
For here, in this shakey place
storeys high city,
you were my only home

Braless fanci girl

Why do you like AIR so much ?

folklore

it warms me to

the colours of you.

box for the pathetic

I think you got it, good and clean, I think you got it, without a contest, dogs mess
you were just playing, cleanliness, you were just fooling, politeness, you were just cooing, floozying, it down, to the bottom, of your loneliness, more or less, I must confess, I think i got it, I'm, humouring it down, into a box, for the pathetic...

I will collapse in anything that allows me the space.

I can not wait
For the century
where you will speak 

O – Us

We are not knowledge centres

you and I

we do not archive

information

figures

facts and futures

we have no interests

no hobbies

but we have favourites

we have fortunes

and our eyes are full.

Poison from the borderless

If I'll go to a place which is quiet

am I looking for peace -

where the mountains don't even whisper

but I can feel their heat

waking up on sea, matressed out with a door wide open to greet me

you retrieve me

theres a slug in my room and I can't go to sleep

theres an ache in my head and it won't let me be

thinking, slowly.

Sit around scarved

wanting to sing, to be heard

but not on this night

off to bed sleepy head

and then hear the ring

some-body is playing

wherever he is sitting

'are you shy or can I …'

'we can play louder on the mountain...'

no treking shoe, just walk it through

a canapy, a blanket, a sweet little bedlet

and play and sing

voices' sweet and sharp and high

and so is his sugar cane

from matted locked,

and sunbaked ly

open up wide

and listen to the tide

and listen to the tide

and listen to the tide

and listen to the tide

and listen to the tide

and listen to the tide

and listen to the tide

he hes dogheat

and I I am dry sheet

in the meat

without a thought

wipe up with a jeep

little feet pattering

need to go to sleep

and thumble down the hill

stones fly

maybe I'll die

and hes ahead

and I am unstead-y

a bedoin had had,

before the light came back to care for me

to make him retreat

into hut, palace for a mutt

a white horse must cover him

over limbs of asalaya

shield him to dark time

to have his stinging again and again 

later.

appointment

I didn't realise it would be too bright for you my dear,

I had suspected, that I was addicted to the light

To the wide white window frames

and the tall white walls

but the ultra white light bothered you

and made you feel quite sick.

Letting you in for the first time

soon turned ill -

there in my bright white surgery lab

was a clinical spirit not ready to be murky

well not here, not in these clean waters

and yet

the ambiguity of our tidy white faces

led somewhere, somehow

a weed to grow

or to sprout out immediately,

but die ever so instantly afterwards

and then there were the white beans boiling

and you said you wouldn't eat my shit

and then there were your other appointments pending

and you said, you wouldn't step outside with me

until I washed my face

and so, up in my house clothes

and made myself up

to leave by your side...

...............................................................................................................

you come in this way? (do you, do you dear?)

But isn't this an entrance for the servants?


.........................................................................................................

Torture wretch, fletch arrow, I can't believe its you. Demeanoreye, compartment of a truth.

Straight through. and go without a hope, a touch, a flash, a peck, a gash, no, nothing, nothing from you.