nie zabierajcie jabłek

Nie odbierajcie nam jabłek
robaki bezdomne się staną i głodne
w koszyczku na stoliczku a bez robaczka cała ta gradka
Nie odbierajcie nam jabłek
nawet guguły
przejrzałe
podgniłe
a są przepustką do bezrajnych zatraceń upojnych
Nie odbierajcie nam jabłek
nobliwi aniołowie jasność swą utracą
belzebub samotny bunt będzie wznosić
i wąz na gałęzi uschnie
niewysłuchany ogłuchnie.
Nie odbierajcie nam jabłek
nadziei, pradziei, prawa do nagości
z adamem i ewą po polach w truskawkach
bez Prady Chanel
nie chcemy przeciez..
Nie odbierajcie nam jabłek
niech dobre duchy nie muszą spać samotnie
a całowanie po kątach i rózne zapładnianie pokątne
pijaństwa i spóznialstwo,lenistwo i nieumiarkowanie
zostaną...
Nie odbierajcie nam jabłek
niech aureole nie gasną
i świeczki kadzidła latarnie
niech święci modlitw słuchać wciąz mogą
i biadolenia...

don't size The Apples
the worms would become homeless apple-starved
even if unripe even immature
they still permit edenlesness juicy ruins
don't size The Apples
the angels would loose their obvious lucidity
lonely Beelzebub rebellion would lead
the never heared out snake deafly he would hiss
don't size The Apples
the right to feel naked
the right to feel ashamed
with Adam and Eva through strawberries fields
without Prada Chanel..only hippis would run
but they have died out
Don't size The Apples
don't let the guardian ghosts go alone to bed
and all the hidden kisses and under cover love making
don't size The Apples
the candles will burn out and so the oliv lamps
don't take The Apples
let the saints hear the prayers out...and lamentations

sad poems

sad songs catch common cold
novels get a flu
epopees pneumonia...maybe even one big lung collapse
or two...
sad songs rent small rooms without garden without the view
novels buy them their maids too
sad poems don't wear scarfs
they drink gin martini and vodka
without ice
what if the ice would giggle in the glass..
sad novels
wear only black dots maybe pink hats
they smoke long pipes
and wander sleep walking sleep talking
hysterical with their morals
sad poems infect empty sheets
and fifteen years old naiv girls
sad songs catch on purpose a sneeze
rambling in the rain
hiding in shadows from the brighty bright sun
barefoot in poodles dancing waiting
sad poems
paint flowers on their dresses
black roses daisies tulips
sad novels end up on the tombstones
or in the cathedrals

fish bowl

you look nice in this cocktail dress...
cocktail evening with olive martini drink
you came to see me..to see other me
this hair done
and the make up on
martini olive set
you look nice in this gardner's pants
planting some roses with yellow rubber gloves on
you came to see me...to see other me
this face undone
and the silence on
the silence dissolved
you look nice waiting ..for a change
the daily show is on
and all your friends you have called
but you came to see me..
an other me...
changed same me..
for example this goldfish
she sleeps nights
happy of leaving her golden fishbowled life
and the knife cuts satisfied
slices of bread each time
and a shark swimms fond of his
sharky big teethed life
conscience-proofed
but you..you came to see me
to see other me
to see me wearing rubber olived dressy gloves

meantime

meantime is (just) such a strange time
always passing by
between two others
seconds hours epochs
realy strange..this meantime
and if a shoe or a hand
or some pink rosy dress perfum
would be tied up forgotten
would they just go into the meantime
and wait to be found out?
funny time this meantime
the jesus times socrates' times
the times we all were small or young
but no (one comes back to the) meantime-times
and if some comas some dots lines or letters
and books few poems maybe...
wait it's getting better
some wars some clouds nuclear.. cumulus
and what if the meantime has seen more then other ones
meantime not bounded
somewhere between
for always a meantime
the grey father of black night
some meantime..funny this time is

what if god likes cakes instead....

just being sick of merry cheesy christmas post....

and what if the god likes cakes
instead of prayers and dull sins
what if he doesn't realy care
about affaires not visiting the church
and what if the god likes cakes instead
the devil has some fun at least...
he's laughing at the prayers
drinks gin and warm spicy whiskey
with the blond long-leged chick
and what if god likes cakes instead
the cathedrals are always cold
even the tangarines taste sweet
not like incense, myrrh or gold
so what if he realy preferes some cookies
instead of candles that burn out
and rosaries