Poems from 1996 to 2004

BRING ME TO HELL AND BACK

Bring me to hell and back
Bring me to heaven
You look at me and it is yours
The reflection in the mirror

You want liberation
from yourself
I want to lose myself
in you

You are my brother, I know
You know I am your sister
Your beauty and your tender smile is mine
My love and gentle touch
yours

We met to see ourselves in each other
To realize there is no Other
But once the sweet dream is over
Will we keep on searching
For the image
hidden inside each others eyes
Me, to find yours
And you, Mine?

Our mother loved us both
And meant for us to meet again
But for how long we should share this road remains unknown

The mystery is the truth unveiled
If we can look at it in the face
without averting our gaze
We could travel together
For a while

And the song says
Take my hand, Hold me in your arms
The night is long
And the road lonely…
And all I wish for us
Is to let us dream our dream for another day more
Because at dawn
It may be gone
And in its wake
Though it might not be what we asked for
We may still find something we never knew
Could be there

Jan 2004
-------------------

DEFEAT

you live with your eyes
in your hands
hardly ever lifting them up
to touch mine

you wonder why my eyes fill
with such sadness
for the emptiness
caught
in between us

words fail to reach you
while yours fly like swords to
pierce my mind
our silence wears the mask of indifference
we hide behind it like bandits
waiting
for the other to break it down

but we’re both too fierce
too proud to walk accross the bridge
and offer each other the hand of Peace

we’re supposed to be lovers
but this is more like war
and I feel it’s time
to retreat
each
holding inside
the tear of bitter
defeat

Jan 2004
------------


WATERY EYES (for Eibhim)

Your eyes flow like water poured into
a paper cup poured back into
water
the water is a river that follows
the earth’s inclines all the way back to the sea
your eyes travel
below
the surface
reflecting its light in every drop

watery light
yellow
like the life
you want
blue
like the peace
you seek

we met
both lost in white mist
I reached for your hand
I missed
but not before touching your
fingertips

I’ll kiss the tears
of your watery eyes
goodbye
till the river reaches once more
the sea
and maybe then
we’ll meet again

galway 03
----------


I WILL COME

I will come
when my thoughts flow away
like an unknown river

I will come
when my eyes meet yours
and I won’t need to
turn them
away

I will come
when my soul lies
bare
stripped
of all secrets
and you will embrace them
with a knowing smile

I will come
when I go away
and cannot remember
where I’ve been


-----------


WAR

A huge rage is rising from the streets
nothing can contain its urge
to destroy all it sees
for it rises with the strength
of a thousand beasts which have
been trapped in a cage for
all of their lives

They are filled with anger for
the freedom they have been denied
their hearts are holes deep and
empty
with the hurt of those who cannot
cry
they are thirsty for the blood their souls have shed
in renunciation of their inner
dreams
if they cannot live
they want to kill
and all of us, all that is not killer
will be
the victim

Austria, March 03

-------------


THE FLOWER OF PASSION

I was told I’ll be the
flower of passion
in this life
I am a flower of
passion
the flower of passion
for life

life is passion’s flower
and what is passion
for man
if not love
or lusting after
fantasy-
a desire
for the transformation of the
self
or an obession of other mens
love
or mine
for theirs

a wish
to be carried away
to awaken
a wish to fall in love
with life
and all the passion tha living things
harbour
for it


London, March 2003
----------------


BEAUTIFUL EYES

Beautiful eyes
Ripening heart
Falling in my arms
And out again

Where do your thoughts live
Hidden behind smiling

I hear only wind whisper
From the other side
Of the Ocean

You’ve disappeared
Inside
The veils of my heart

Covering your thoughts with
Pure silence

Passing through
You left me alone
With myself
Later meeting under
A different sky
Only to part
Again

It’s a smaller version of
Mortality’s loss
As natural
As the passing of night
Into day

So we shift shape
And ride on the wave
Of change
Hoping not to drown
Too soon
In sudden
Tempest

---------------


WHO CAN TELL ME WHAT LOVE IS

Who can tell me what love is
if a sure warm feeling
or a raging fire
who can tell me, if love is caring
or craving
if it is desire to have
or desire to give

Who can tell me what love is
if it’s wanting nothing for ourselves
or is passion?
Is loving accepting all, no matter whether
it’s what we ask for,
or is it finding what we need the most
and cherishing it till it’s lost

Who can tell me what love is
a sweet dream to cure affliction
or a nightmare of frustration
does everybody need to be loved
or do they need someone to love
does everybody only need to love themselves
or does it need to be somebody else

they say you only come to know
when you grow to be mature
perhaps love is all this or maybe nothing
I wish I could know for sure
---------------



RENUNCIATON

I renounce my fears, my
wants, my crazy
illusions
I want to walk away
from all that is other
I want to meet silence
and be satisfied
with it
I want to drink
from the silver fountain
of those who don’t seek fame
I want to hold hands with
myself and desire nothing
more
I want to grow old
like a tree that dies
and is reborn at each
passing
season
I want to see
the love that links
all souls together
and bathe in it until
the end
of life

Feb 2001
------------------


ONLY A MIRACLE

The wind howls
outside
he walks- aimlessly
around

everything is spinning

I’m small
crying
finding only
a thread
to hold on to

Sleep
I want to let you come and go inside
the silence of the night

My eyes
are lost
in the deep well of my love
full of tears

desiring
oblivion
together with
a miracle

------------


SHAKING

Shaking
you look at me
with a prophecy of love in your clear blue
eyes
you tell me
of your long lost love fogged away in
the distance of dark tearful years
It’s been
instant love
for your soul
beauty-full linked with mine
I smile
shyly (when you aren’t here)
and send you my thoughts of
mist
from far away
hoping I am a
dear
stranger friend
for your arms to welcome when time to
meet again
is due
---------


SHATTERED

Coloured pieces of glass shattered
this our invisible rope
vanished like a breath of wind
inside clouds marked for rain.

Seller of illusions
you trade beautiful images devoid of any
essence
floating
your shapes take form
meaning-less
and empty.

you will never know the price
of real freedom
for only the mad do
those who are
laughing stock
for ignorance filled crowds

And you’ll never find
what you’re looking for
for it is veiled by a curtain
of lies
those you use
like a fool uses wine
to numb out the pain
& make it look like
something
when instead it’s only
pieces of glass scattered
inside your
heart.

Feb 2001

-------------

OBSESSION CREATION DEPRESSION TEMPTATION RECREATION TREPIDATION

Obsession creation depression temptation recreation trepidation
intimidation depravity creativity stupidity loneliness wondering
when where why if
Walking on the edge of boredom where boredom does not exist
evil
awful
bad
catholic hardcore trash
fucking brainless creatures still have the right to live
the right to live
and be murdered
savagely
in stabbing wounds that rot
slowly
in my arms
screaming
covered
in their own decrepit excrement
I am scum
contorsion
of nothings
held together in a bundle
of tasteless
grimaces
walking on the edge of a cloud
then falling off into deep garbage
white wedding purity a dream come true
never never never satisfied
deep seated
warm
smoking
exhaust
frustrated fantasy of decadence
always seeking
tearful excavated holes
inside a face that fakes normality
on a daily basis
everybody knows this one
everybody that bothers
looking
everybody laughs
everybody sees now inside the brain
inside the unseen canals of my given body
the deepest darkness
the purest light
angel of death unquenched
desireless passion
freezing thirst
and eternal damnation
where there is no bliss
except in knowledge
except in pleasure born out of heavens
unvisited
unknown
tirelessly sought
where only love grows alone
like a prickly cunning rose vine
linked witha rope to the shapeless forms
that inhabit
the shadowy corners
of the void
where nothing
lives
where nothing ever
is
where there is nothing
but nothing
nothing
nothing
but this
And who cares
what I am
who cares if
I am
I am
nothing
and nothing
is
nothing
but this
already seen and tasted
sweet scent possessed
sweet scent never possessed
never taken never seen never really known
a secret shrouded in mystery
that make unworthy mouths water abominable
thoughts
red lips on fire delving poison
to the lover’s innocent smile
bleeding pain
bleeding shameless
bleeding
eternal ghost of itself
alway hidden
in dark unknown caves
underground glowing
infamous
crazy
beautiful
very
fragile
disappearing
between the fingers
of the worker’s hand
lying invisible
inside his flowing
fire
inside the water of his
mad heart
hoping to disappear
into the scenery of his blue blood stream
becoming
transparent
like the veins
of the loved
still locked
possessor

Jan 2001

------------


NO NEED FOR PANTOMIME INSIDE A LOVER"S ARMS

your eyes speak of a soul long hidden
behind a screen made of laughter
and dry of lonesome tears

your tricks don’t impress me
nor do your promises
your imperfection is what I prize
but the courage to shed your garments
is not yours

you are scared of my hands
offering you nothing but truth
I ask for the ugliness of your heart
and the light you shy away
from

you don’t see me
you only see arms that try to hold you
back
words that strangle you into compliance

But I’m only after love my friend
the kind of love that does not need to ask
but receives
unsolicited
and you don’t have that to offer

so keep my knowing smile
and bring it with you when you are
alone walking in the desert
rising to meet the shadow that waits
on the other side

And as you look into the mirror
and see yourself naked
use it a the weapon that tears apart
your heart
because watching yourself die
stained with the blood you never wished to see
is the greatest gift
to yourself
you could ever give.
----------


BLACK

Black.
Beyond deeper black.

How do I know
it will never work?
I read it in the rim of your eyes
in the rhythm
of your slow white breathing

Suddenly
it is pouring
watery hands of impossible outcomes
inside this captive soul

It's a fascination
with material
hidden
in the incave of your forehead.

A desire to touch lips
previously unknown
the flesh's hunger for embraces
that require love committed
like a crime

every pleasure is paid for
with bitter tears
says a voice inside my skin
as I search for signs
to let it free

I want the one I see behind
I want a free sweet ride
inside the channels of your heart
I want to dance in your skin
to discover a brave new world
and then flee away
in bliss

sept 2001


------------

PANTOMIME

I avoid to meet his eyes
so carefully constructed
inside the automatic
circumspect expression.
No soul in that face but a
mask forced
into a pantomime
to hide truths that
smell
rotten
at the bottom
of his subconscious
rivers.

I run away
my head beating
faster
because I still cannot
find words
appropriate and fair
to say to him
everything
I am
------


HATE

I wish to spit hate
like an angry dragon
at this face
staring
opposite mine
but I refuse
to acknowledge the meaning
of that hate
since according to experts
it is a sign
of love betrayed
or craved for.

Oct 2001

------------


WHITE ROOM

white room.
I enter.
small, low, a ceiling that drips
soap bubbles through a white open
sky

wind
outside
looking a the only window, white, wooden, closed
to the wild relentless
blowing.

I nest
into myself
like a child-woman seeking deliverance
a tear
falls from my eye
inside a half-way smile.

From the clouds of future a dark shadow travels
coming through the suddenly shrewd glass
it floats
in a mist of swirling vapour
black
human bird
crow masked
Man.

(He spreads his limbs wide
He lifts his wings high
He takes me up to the unknown skies
He makes the room spin inside my eyes

And as we fly where the wild winds blow
I know that I might never know
where the sky and the earth blend
and if our travel will ever end)

Dec 2001
------------


THE SHADOWY PATH

Walking
on the shadowy path
I sway
longing
for your light
to catch sight
of me

I see you watching
from a distance
uncertain
waiting
for a sign
that does not belong
to me

Dreaming
enveloped
in a dark
blanket of visions
I see you holding
me
back
as your arms want
to hold
me
inside

I see you floating
clearly
confused
on the edge of
grasping
an unknown
equilibrium

we swim in a sea of
nonsensical
words
where meaning
is lost
to the
truth
only our eyes can
speak
------------


IL RE

Il ghiaccio e’ spezzato.
In tre pezzi d’acutissimi angoli obliqui.

Sotto
Rosso e
denso
il fluido spurga
da un fondo immobile
e spara in aria
dolci lacrime di
fiamma.

Le scorie
di lava fremono
nelle vene schiuse
appena.
I miei segreti
giacciono soli
come pietre su di un
letto spoglio.

Le mani vecchie
del re
ne sfogliano le membra
trasformandoli
in gemme
silenziose.

Le sue parole
blu
colpiscono
la mia anima nascosta
resa
nuda
davanti a occhi che non amo
eppure sento
battermi
contro

Roma June 2000
---------------


DIANE (SUPERFLY 99)

Pleasure dome & sweetness
are her eyes
green, and clear as Ireland
Her kiss is quick to find
mine
hidden
spreaded
among black shy shadows
It carries with itself no promise
soon to be broken
inside a dream’s fragile
shell

One moment is all
that is
inside her heart’s desire
our lips meet for that moment
leaving behind the fleeting taste
of freedom
once
grasped.

Dublin August 2000
--------------


THE WEEPING WILLOW TREE

Once I lived surrounded by a
Mighty green
weeping willow.

Its leaves were oval, fine and falling.

In the summer twilight
its breath would follow the faint
rim of
sadness
caught between my
lips
when all crumbled slowly into the
shadows
to sleep.

I used to sit
at its feet and stare
at the whispers of its thousand branches.
Woven with silence they spoke
to me
of night and how its thousand mouths would
open
to sip the tears of a thousand strangers
without dreams.

On the day Authority decided
the tree would die
by murder I promised
I'd forget
where the stones'd cover the spot where
its heart
once lay.
I would wipe away its memory
like a crazy day-time nightmare
a dream too wrong
for a child
to believe .

Oct 99
------------

PROPHECY

Through her eyes of Red flame
she can see a distant land
where pain dances
inside people’s heads and
makes them fall on
their imaginary
knees
in
white
lace-like
tears

She can see them climbing glass ladders
scorching their inside
blood- stained faces
trying to let a whisper
Out

In a flake word that looks like a ghost’s
breath
they’re losing
themselves
inside a
misty
clouded
morning

they are devoured
by Fear.
---------------


INGRID II: CASTLEPOINT

Green eyed blue
& jumping
to the full
moon

I watch from a distance
your beautiful words
falling
caught in between my
hand

Smiling
to the breaking of the
waves
your silence inhabites the night with a
question
never answered

Far away in distand lands long afterwards I'll
dream
of your special shoes and skirts, floating in the
wind-blown landscape
while you count the
shooting starts
laughing
at high pitch
voice

In remembrance of you
I wore them myself
those skirts and shoes found after searching in the early hours
of the London-crowded markets

They reminded me of
a vanishing portrait
that escapes brushes

Your
green eyed blue
& jumping
into the full
moon.

Oct 99
---------------


INGRID I : IMAGINARY FIELDS

A pair of small black velvet shoes
is hanging
from the ceilling of the moss-covered
dust-filled
shed.

An old yellow grainy straw hat
is waiting
on the table of the silent
emptied
bedroom.

A lamp is
suspended
in the faint memory
threads
of the fading
sleeping farm.

The hills around are watching
indifferent
to the vanished childhood
smiles
of the woman now living
under
grey-like
foreign
skies.

Oct 99
--------------


IN A STRANGE LAND

Darkness
on the other side a hand
that I dream
to catch.
Fog
crawling on my feet
as I walk in blindness
on my own lost
highway.

Tears
sliding down the pane
a story to which I cannot find
a meaning.
The days are filled with wind
that blows my tears away
in the face of those I seek
to touch.

Madness
is the other side.
A fine monstrous Lady rising through the
flames of the
heart’s
desire.

I am told the link between souls here is
subtle.

A nod inside
silence
A knowing told
though always
left unspoken.

April 2000
---------------


FRIENDS

In a different world
where darkness only inhabits the soil
& night lives inside air
there'd be no masks to burn down in fire
together we woulld stand
naked
shedding our skins of all layers.

In a different world
where our eyes would crawl up from black water
& our hands would reach free through the depths
there'd be no need of courage
we would meet open in the mists of morning
& share a smile
without grimace.

In a different world
where words would pass unfiltered through the tears of
us strangers
there'd be nowhere left to recoil
we would drop our weapons in a sea of scars
& touch halfway in mid-air

In a different world
where the bars would lie open, bent at impossible
angles
our faces would melt
down like ice
together we would stand still in silence
unburdened
Living
Here

26/8/99


21st CENTURY WHITE HUMAN MALAISE

Human
malaise
of devouring worms
spreading underground
in hidden chambers
human
disease
of a walking corpse
born to be dead
in a rotting cradle.

what happens to the body as it ages
in the wasteland of childhood superseded
man and woman flat white in the face
standing numb on the edge of their fall

what happens to the soul when it’s faded
reflecting the image of its broken pieces
crumbling down in a million faces
fossilised once again into dust

soft teddy bears, good Christian dads, obedient soldiers
glass-eyed fakers, anxious makers, pleasing dolls
conscientious mothers, suspicious breeders, attention seekers
captains and bossess and real world break fighters
gradually sinking
in a
tomb
of fake flowers
wondering
about the hollow reed in their
chests
Pounding
on the brick of an
understanding
Choosing
to ignore it
& then dying
old and alone
like always
enlightened by shock on their faces
suddenly challenged
by the Void
of their life

Nov 99
----------------


21ST CENTURY HERALDS OF DOOM

On the back of
society’s nest
on the back of a magazine
designed to capture
repetitive mind
games
pictured to
make us happy
robots
chirping under the sunny
decedence of one of this
species’s
civilizations
I weep

Somewhere else
lies,
dormant,
waiting.
the possibility
the choice
the chance
the risk of finding a
meaning.

Instead
We retire in silence under
an autistic sky:
we will die blind
or else be enticed by fake
remedial philosophies
disguised as
easy to use
wisdom.

Or
we’ll wither useless
heralds of
Doom
hoping to survive
while crying
praying to spare a smile
while failing
to resuscitate
the dead souls
we've
buried deep
inside us.

31-9-99
--------------


THE MORE I KNOW YOU

The more I know you
the more I know you less
each time your lips remain silent
each time your eyes stay shut

And in the glowing pulse I see across your chest
red I guess your heart is laying
silent itself and deep asleep
as I try to reach it
and with a bitten nail
grab

you remain detached in love, unable to utter
those images that float up
on afternoons
when you look outside your clock time
and the dial seems to have disappeared, upthere
in the fields of Mind

and a glaze of mist
occupies your passages
and your soul is far, lost inside glass

And I know your absence
is as valuable as Mine
and maybe we suffer captured
in our tin-cages
inside.

Oct 98, Wgt
---------------


THE BLACK HOLE

The Black Hole hides behind dark corners
waiting, for me and you alike
Her smile distorts into a grimace
whenever She's about to strike

Children, that wouldn't hear her call
silently are pushed against the wall
Her arms stay stretched ahead and far
Her mouth
a door ajar

you'll face Her naked and without protection
without robes, experience, honours, tests
She won't have regards for all the times
you failed the race or were the best

'cause all She takes is all you've had
the clothes you wear, the blood you shed
and all the time that you have spent blind
will be counted as your crime

and in the sweetest of Her embrace
you'll see what you couldn't face
inside the lies that'll fall apart
the truth you crushed within your heart

so now allow your soul to sink
the bones to mingle
the words to shrink
now that you know that all you've done
will feed the beasts
that are to come.

May 98, London
----------------


LIFE IS NOT

Life is not a all-negative poem
where the poet's mouth's locked shut
his tears bolted on dried glowing
hollow reeds and all
around is waiting.

Life is not a woman sipping solitude
exhuming what's left of her
bones
out of a radiant covered-with-dirt Goth's
coffin
and draggin' her feet along
neon-lighted streets
while her heart says it's late now
to try & breathe

"And in the living room the TV's screaming
and in the bedroom the soul's re dying
and in his hand the picture of a woman
slides away
while the last grain of drunken
memory
dissolves..."

If you smash the mirror down
a thousand reflections are
living
in each
scattered piece
of glass.

Oct 98, Wgt
--------------


YOU LEAVE IN LIGHT

You leave in light
where a capacity for words has vanished
in a trail off shadows
a joke without end left in mid-air
my arms raised up
to touch yours

I see you
I see solitude
I see longing
I see you

I've come up all the way to
meet you up along the rays of
night

I've raised up all the way
to reach you once
again

you leave in light, but I've touched your head with
watered eyes
my finger pushes hard
inside your heart
and makes it merge

a circle of souls
spins around our hands, dancing
do you want to let it
flow by
one
next
to the
other..?

Nov 97, London
-------------


OUTING IN OXFORD

Walking through a pathway of smelling yellows
we encounter
Solitude

An abstract distance between cells of identical sign
has d r a w n us here
It's bleating
like a crime seeker.

appearance disinterests us
but we Appear among its lines
shining

no story is exempted the clichés of
history
no word
is an image for thought

so let's preach a new Salvation
and un-knot our dreary
measles with the claim of
a great knowledge

while the fog trudges
we could lie in earnest
and promise each other
Eternal Play

March 97, Oxford
---------------


THE MOST FRAGILE OF COLORS

The most fragile of colours
is laughter

A blazing sun behind
A past adventure

Flashing swords cut liquid
in blue
plain
gone

Have you swam through marshmallows of shaky thoughts?
Alienated seaweed is tracking you out
among its spires your rope
is falling
down the
rack

End March 97, Roma
------------


REBIRTH

A timid spark of
wood
after the axe's blow
back up my back
stuck

An unnoticed smile
shining through teeth dripping
the hair falls out
and small yellow death worms suddenly all
crawl up

The smile recurs
to burn or to die ? That is the
question
and coffins are lying uprooted
lining up
one after the other
waiting for the sign
of defeat.

To burn in a mighty pyre and Scream
"It is a more honourable life!
To burn and to give it up!"
to get back inside
let it go Free

only
to be

3 Nov 97, London
---------------


LEARNING TO FORGET

Knock
like a phantomatic ghost upon the doors of
a flaming house

a breath enclosed
a raving look
blue star of
pride
red drop of
consuming seconds

Dread
Horror
Ecstasy
the flying spit of an animal
dying

Queens
Princesses
Cars
a neon of running hospitals
inside
a plastic box

And last
a sense for the empty:
Where shall the waters flow
without
canned solutions..?

but shhh-
it's ringing again from the realms of
Science
it's hawked and capped
the same old chap
only, this time
his scythe is hidden
in the malfunctioning firing
of a neurone

Apr. 97 Roma
---------------


EMPTY WORDPLAY

It seems
that all is empty
at any given time
empty of any
content.

And
at other times
it seems
that all is full
full of any content
and fully-given

My head
like anybody else's head
seems the same
as anybody else's head
but my
head
is
at times full
at times empty while being full

content
is in itself
nothing but
different emptinesses
mixed together
in full

content does not exist
alone
without my head
while my head instead
is empty
and is nothing
without content

so what makes my head full
and what makes my head empty
if content comes from my head
and my head needs content
to be full?

Elisa Di Napoli May 97


Tree

I saw a tree reflected in breath
it was red and white set against a
sea of purple
His flailing arms stilled their sentence abruptly
like a broken smile on a waving motion.
The way to forgetful existence is made out of smokey papers
old dreams covered in Grass
beings
summoned for a great Fear
suntears
without substance.

Lost is a sacred space
lit by fugitive fires
an arrogance treasured in Sadness
The embarrassing gift of a swindler
Twenty four hours a day the longing for
freedom, love, happiness! shouts and screams its arms about
The fairy maid has a tired wing
her son is held in hospital
quietly dreaming through a sleep
of delusions

March 97, Oxford
----------------


HALF FILLED PLASTILINE GLASSES

Half filled plastiline glasses
glowing in a darkened sickroom
sick souls in sick rooms gambling
apologetic smiles

the apotheosis of a million grinning teeth
lurking beyond chewed
time

a headlamp in a concave body
a curtain drawn
in a shadow box

the terror of everything inside
unknown is the enemy within

Jan 97, London
---------------


DEATH

Tibetan pop trashy pumping beat
Persecute- I order- me! make my brains
drop

A melting pot
idyllic loss
Ludicrous game, heineous Big Mama
Fear
Did I discard you with my failed
projects
my guts spurt green coloured emptiness
waiting for
public execution

you should
let my blood run
in rivers
I need you to
drink it and spit it
wash your feet with it and
defecate it
It is your holy duty to Savour my red contamination
in this hour of Death

Please do hang me and
rip me open
I need you to hang my neck on
a totem pole and nail your fingers
around it, as if you were constantly
strangling me with an imaginary
rope

kill me
in a Phoenix pyre
drown me in dark
Poisonous Waters

my eyeballs roll as
I have no sense of
shame

And the waters
rising up through the day
will bring up floating
my long dead dishevelled Corpse
only a long time
after I’m gone.

3 Nov 97, London
-----------------


DARK CLOUDS

Dark clouds
interrupting the voice

Lights walking by
towards the dawn of a Great
Ending.

Days brought by spirit insects
a blood-shed sex act
and a burden of
tears.

Lusting for the coming of
Velvet
Darkness
Chrone
I lay slain, victim of the feast

Sacrifice me
crowd of cunning blank-faced
eyes
sacrifice
and let me see
no more.

6 Nov. 97, London
------------


TODDLER TIPSTER

The new toddler tipster whirles on his
back
swaying veering whiffing

He knows what it means
to swing the crow’s nest
He first swerves the attention
then rests.

He’d swingle his mother
he’d swirl and he’d swipe
he’s champion of swindles
no apple too ripe

The new toddler tipster is first in the list
the hero of cambists
bemused with risk
No matter how open or low it may seem
he’ll never grow tired and never redeem

June 96, Wgt, NZ
---------------



THE FLYING BATTRESS AND THE TWO KINGS

Two Kings
knocked on the handle
of the palace
of the bomb.

Two Kings
looking at each other
placed their little faces
at the mercy
of their gun.

Two kings fired their holy questions
and kissed the head of the
flying battress.

The flying battress is
a joyful sadness
with invisible legs and
a long tongue.

Sacred is none
of her locks
she kindles faceless without refrain

The flying battress is a
picture
of mirrored flying battresses in a frame

Two Kings
knocked at the handle
of the palace
of the numb.

Two kings looking at eachother
placed their little faces
at the mercy
of the womb.

March 96, Wgt, NZ
--------------


TWO

The boat in a stinging river of
knives.

Wives.
Across a man's face.
Himself,
Old

Someone from a turret calls their names
in the morning as the smell
is born

She resurrects in motion
He is
opposite

Together they talk in silence they marry and die
as design
on a stepping stone.

May 96, Wgt
----------------


WHEN THE MUSIC'S OVER (NAMELY THE REVOLUTION)

Leave me in my shed until the
roses die
fish cannibalising fish
fake stained real
the power of words
crushing

we will give birth to a New Dialect
we will be walking under Security Helmets
Our dirty laces
mixed
with amusements

When the music's over and the show still goes on
I can see the clowns' faces staring
surprised of our own delusions
surprised of theirs

I am serious
but they win
Covered with a shower of successful drama
it's a manifest of
humanity
deprived

July 96, Wgt
----------------


THE PATHETIC SNEEZE OF GOD
(ME, YOU EVERYBODY)

Spinning purple springs
crashing
through the vapour
plump red and pumping
shot up vein
of splendour

Beating maze
hitting ball
wall after wall
jumping flesh

words of secret cancer
crawling prayers
And Hunger

paper puppets
pierced by
power
A game of victims
enslaved fighters

Nov 96, London
----------------


THREE YELLOW MOONS

Fragility

Three
Dark
Golden
moons

Hawks
lift
by invisible sails

Up in the
sky
of a drowning
wind

Fragility
is
in All

11 June 96 Wgt
------------


FAKE AWAKENING

Grey clad like tombs
concrete images of past life-forms

immobile
unmoved
not a leaf alive
all rests in itself
when the sky speaks
without sound

And
like a robot
living
without breathing
the noisy hive explodes
In a cloud of fragments

While across,
absent feet
quiver
in the expectation of a fake
awakening

Dec 96, London