The battery works

Her image in my head
goes away.
It persists in 
going away.
When it's there it's a battery.
Women, by their nature,
go away.
They seldom come
and stay but a short time.
Having tasted I hunger
for that battery.
The going away
makes me weaker than before.
The faces appear to be different each time,
still, the battery works.

2010-05-15

strange saint 

a voice 
resoundingly human 
she is Jeanne d'Arc 
full of overcome pain 
bristling with blades and wounds 
I want to be only good to her 
I can but I cannot 
love her 
kicking me out 
		
		16/2 - 2/3/ 99

Stockholm Syndrome

Who am I, you or me?
Who threatens to throttle me?
Who shoots me below the neck?
Who is killing, you or me?
Who will be killing you?
With a blade below the throat
I am saying, you are saying,
we're the best of friends.
You or I is whooing me, 
I or you embracing, she
is a fat old hag.
I embrace her nonetheless,
he -
embraces me.
Knowing well, I play along
kissing where puking
wouldn't be wrong
fearing 
that old 'love' song.

2007-02-26

A friend offers his help

When I spoke of my messy inheritance
my friend offered his help
which I gladly accepted.
And I did the planning, booking two rooms and
- most of all -
didn't ask anyone else, 
until, 
in the nick of time,
he told me, by the way,
that I couldn't demand 
that much work for no payment,
that I should have known that and,
after all,
I was inheriting, wasn't I?
And when I then most unpleasantly felt
forced to remind him 
of the lengthy favours I'd previously done him,
I found
that he'd hardly noticed 
any of those.

2008-12-06

A tornado of words
towering list of my offences 
approaches the house
dissipating but not finished 
until it strikes me over the head
on its last breath

2013-06-11