AND UNDER EVERYTHING LIES A POET’S CORPSE

DIE TONIGHT, LIVE FOREVER or THE PRINCIPAL NOSFERATU

In his car, on the way to Paris, I was thinking about all of you, and how I will tell you my story, and how you will add it, add me, to the big book of the undeads. While I was part of the situation, I could already describe it from above; while the story was taking place, I could already tell it in past tense. And in those moments, when I was standing a few steps forward in time, and a few steps higher in space, I had already decided, that this is the story that I will tell: of him and myself. The story of the tie-guy from Rennes, that I’ll probably never meet again, and mine, full of Crystal Meth, in the car, looking at the road

OR: YOU DESERVE YOUR WAR (EIGHT SOLDIERS MOONSICK)

LET THE BLOOD COME OUT TO SHOW THEM [VOL. 4]

Women’s dorms:
No
one
showers on her own.
One body,
eight organs,
that shower together,
that eat together,
that sleep together,
always together.
Soaping each other – till the milky foam drips,
washing each other – the always-cold water,
hands in each other’s plates – hands in each other’s pants.
In the freezing nights,
under the eucalyptus’ dracula-finger leaves

DADDY LOVES YOU

LET THE BLOOD COME OUT TO SHOW THEM [VOL. 3]

…and they hug tightly, as they both understand that she has brought them to where the summer is celebrating its best days, where all is euphoria, where everybody is moving, living, crashing into each other in the air like dizzy bugs in love, grass and water and marmalade, and the water shimmers in the evening sun, and along the water line, a group of heavyweight boxers with colourful sport bras are running and singing together to the common rhythm of their feet, and with every planting of their huge feet on the ground, the ground shakes a little, and the trees tremble a little, and the birds above them panic a little, spreading all around them and creating astounding shapes of birds in the sky

THE STORY OF THE LIFE AND DEATH OF THE NEW BEW WEW WOOPIDU JEW

LET THE BLOOD COME OUT TO SHOW THEM [VOL. 2]

Mom. Dad. You didn’t bring me to the best world you know.
You didn’t bring me to the right passport nor the right economic status, you didn’t bring me to the right language.
You didn’t teach me the right opinions, you didn’t tell me the truth,
and I guess you didn’t know the truth yourselves.

YOUR VERY OWN DOUBLE CRISIS CLUB A TRANSLATED LAMENT WITH A TERRIBLE ACCENT

LET THE BLOOD COME OUT TO SHOW THEM [VOL. 1]

The black smoke clouds above the city-
tweeting,
posting,
reporting on the disaster
to all of those who escaped on time.
The city is burning, and we are standing all around.

I KNOW I’M UGLY BUT I GLITTER IN THE DARK

Jerusalem
Jerusalem
Jerusalem
burns on fire.
Jerusalem burns out
with fire.

Now she’s dead,
and you are dead,
lying naked in the streets,
and Jerusalem is on fire.

The democrats were defeated,
and all the football teams are out of the league.
Jerusalem is on fire.

Shout,
shout,
call her name:

3RDLND IF YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN AND I THINK YOU DO

Oh art,
you were supposed to be all that.
Anarchistic,
revolutionary,
loyal to itself,
only to itself,
doing nothing,
being there
just because it’s there,
no reason,
no message,
eternal.
Not being an act,
not a political act,
all and nothing at the same moment,
endless,
shapeless,
a declaration to the post democratic world.