Fuck, The

The suckers
Of the wire triangular
Keep coming off
The wall!
Hard pressing
The fuckers against the
Wall doesn’t work, only
Pressing for a
Long time
That pressure
Builds up slowly and
Surely it seems so
Well back to
The showering.
There’s the fear
That the fucker will fall
Again any minute, but no
It just stays
There. Fuck!


I love to burn candles with matches
The box is always a thrill
The dead ones lie there so close to the living
It is like disturbing a grave
And the truly grave occasion
Is when none lie alive among the dead
– or No!, is that one there? –
And with horror one discards it into the rubbish
And grabs a fresh new box instead –
I love to burn candles with matches
The new box is on fire and I shake it
It rattles like a rattlesnake caught in its lair




One day we all gonna fly away
On the back of a large eagle sea serpent scorpion.
Waving goodbye
The sun setting on the evening star
Pyramids in the background
Fish in claws
This body
Lost of flesh
With a sceptre scythe
Sweeping away the sky
And on to a new day.