Machete Dance


Garrick_as_RichardIII
Oh lord I don’t understand
I couldn’t explain

You used to be so quiet
Our invisible angel
Working your magic
While we slept

You labored so hard
We were so proud
We thought you knew
We thought you knew

I know we never went
Down to see you
We didn’t need to
A relationship built on trust

Why would you come up?
The light’s bad for your eyes
Why would you come up?
A place for everything and everything in its place

I could see it in your eyes
You were not well
It wasn’t hard to tell
We told you to rest

Who could have predicted?
Those eyes
Those perturbing red and green eyes
Lost in a sea of white

That horrible nose
Hair sticking out
Snot falling out
Bulbous, porous, yellow and red

Not a pleasant sight
But not a monster either

Those hands
So much kindness in those hands
So much cruelty in those hands
What did we ever do to you?

Oh, follow the swing of the machete and dance!
Oh, hear it strike, hear it strike!
Oh, follow the swing of the machete and dance!
Oh, hear it strike, hear it strike!

Say good night!
I am not afraid, Sir!
Say good night!
Lead me back home, Sir!

A giant snake
Slithered out of your right sleeve
And devoured my daughter
Devoured my daughter, cruel fiend!

A pack of bats
Flew out of your left sleeve
And devoured my son
Devoured my son, cruel fiend!


Oh, follow the swing of the machete and dance!
Oh, hear it strike, hear it strike!
Oh, follow the swing of the machete and dance!
Oh, hear it strike, hear it strike!

Say good night!
I am not afraid, Sir!
Say good night!
Lead me back home, Sir!

Spiders
Crawled out of your pants, Good Lord
They crawled out of your pants, cruel fiend
And devoured my wife

But the machete
You pulled it out of your belt
Oh, you pulled it out of your belt
Yes, you pulled it out of your belt

A flaming machete
It lit up your face
No skin or blood at all
Just sunken empty dry bone

Was God punishing me? Oh no!
Was Satan punishing me? Oh no!
I treated you right
You demon-dead-man-maniac-ghost



Oh, follow the swing of the machete and dance!
Oh, hear it strike, hear it strike!
Oh, follow the swing of the machete and dance!
Oh, hear it strike, hear it strike!

Say good night!
I am not afraid, Sir!
Say good night!
Lead me back home, Sir!

Haaaa-ooooo
The cemetery is calling
The cemetery is calling
Haaaa-ooooo

A rusty old machete
You pulled it out from your belt
and hacked me up
You hacked me up, cruel fiend!

I had done nothing
Just trying to help
I didn’t deserve
Degenerate jealousy, madness, no faith

Was it all a bad dream?
Are you still laboring below?
Tell me, oh Lord
Are you still laboring below?

I should beat some morals into you
or bury you in a hole



Oh, follow the swing of the machete and dance!
Oh, hear it strike, hear it strike!
Oh, follow the swing of the machete and dance!
Oh, hear it strike, hear it strike!

Say good night!
I am not afraid, Sir!
Say good night!
Lead me back home, Sir!

Anúncios

Forever Walking

Vagabond_Walking_at_Night
Walking and walking
You can go nowhere
Forever

Stares and frowns
Rushed closed and locked
Doors and hushed voices

What are you doing here?
What am I doing here?
What a bother

Walking and walking
Forever
Nowhere you can go

If we talked to everyone
Would we still be alone?
Together-apart?

The door’s open
Come in
Have a tea, fix my shower

Life is a series of transactions
But we only fake it half the time
Assuming you can cleave halves and haves

Life is getting screamed at
In a parking lot
Without knowing why

People just want assurance
So shut up
And give it to them

Walking and walking
Forever you can go
Nowhere

There’s so much I know
It feels like I know everything
Until I leave my bed

I want to see you

Yoshitsuya_The_Lightning_Bolt

I want to see you
So I can greet you
I want to see you
So I can greet you

It’s the thunder
Hear the thunder
So I can greet you

It’s the fire
See the fire
So I can greet you

It’s the mother
Feel her rivers
So I can greet you

I want to see you
So I can greet you
I want to see you
So I can greet you

Stop
Why are you calling me?
Speak
Why would you bother me?

The rumble the rumble roars
The flaming the flaming flares
The serpent the serpent swims
The people the people sing

Tell me tell me your name
And I will dance
Tell me tell me your name
So we can drink

Tell me tell me your name
Earths will open up
Tell me tell me your name
Skys will open up

I do not want
I do not want to fall in
Protect me
Protect me from the edges within

Come come come to me
And we will dance
Come come come for me
So I can dance

Dance dance the darkness out
Dance dance the winds out
Dance dance the devils out
Dance dance misfortunate out

I call on you to stop the shivers
I call on you to hear the moon
I call on you to calm babes’ cries
I call on you when mountains shout

I want to see you
So I can greet you
I want to see you
So I can greet you

Good night good night
It’s the night
I want to see you
Tonight tonight

I want to see you TONIGHT!

Never trust a poet

Carl_Spitzweg_-_Der_arme_Poet_(Entwurf)
This talk of equality
sounds so very beautiful
but would you not sell them all out
for a brick of French cheese?

Would you not chop up their toes
and toss them in a stew
if someone offered to serve
your head on an album cover?

You speak to me of
challenges you’ve faced
I believe you
I do

But challenges come cheap
in this fucking world
and some people have a pile
a goddamn mountain collection

Maybe one day you’d give up the cheese
and the vinyl
but would you relinquish a suffering past
fucking would you?

We’re all Superman in our heads
we may even rage like Batman
but in our hearts, our stubborn little hearts
we’re still trembling knights of banality

When the queen is dead
we’d probably be moved to tears
but we’d sooner fight for prestige
than honor

We’d sooner lock ourselves in a cage
than free the world
and we’d rather live off death
than die living

It’s too cold out for odes to equality
so put a jacket on
and go back inside
or you’ll catch something

Far from books and desk
shivering, is no place
to long to be clever or original
it’s why they say: Never trust a poet!

Burning Snow

Burning_snow

I hate the white snow
Falling down on me
I hate when it gets cold

I hate your snowy city
Bearing down on me
I hate the chill before a storm

But it’s coming
Warmer airs are coming
Some 500 years past their date

The snow will stop falling
I’ll burn it all up
In a steamy bath for the sun

I will render dreams ash on the ground
Crispy charcoal will I make their gold and cry
Smoke out the lies! Smoke out the lies!

How I miss the tropical sun
How I loved its warm embrace
How it would swallow my fears

But it’s gone
and I’m gone
Lifeless paste no more

Happy to feel snow on my fingers
Ignoring the white ice inside
The moon died within, the sun dwindled within

Exu let me in
Ogum grant me a sword
Xango at my side I will strike

Let the snow be gone
May their horde of saints run
So our city might shiver no more

It is right to burn the snow
That torments us
It is right to turn the ice into rain

Thoughts on an Old Man

Francisco_de_Goya,_Saturno_devorando_a_su_hijo_(1819-1823)

I think about the old man a lot lately
What must have been going through the head
of that desperate wrinkly hairy sweaty mass
shoveling flesh of flesh blood of blood down his gullet?

Was he thinking about the taste, neither salty nor sweet?
Was he struck by the texture on his teeth?
Was he pondering the world gradually slipping away?
Was he overcome with jealous paranoid relief?

Relief that the future wouldn’t overcome the past
Relief that the taste wasn’t so bad
Relief that the babe hadn’t made too much noise
Relief that salvation exists for those willing to seize it

Did he know who or what he was eating?
Or had he just grown accustomed
to thoughtless alimentary consumption?
there’s no time to look anymore — down it and go

Or had he done it for their own good?
The world belongs to the strong and the brave after all
kids have to learn the facts early on
or they’ll never make it

They’ll never make it
they’ll never make it…

…maybe I’ll ask him one day when I’m strong and brave
after slicing his belly open and tossing him in a cage

The noise they make

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

Loving other people hurts
Why didn’t you tell me?

Not the romance
That part’s easy
I watched the movie

but the other one

Sharing space,
the noise they make
their smell
and stupid favorite color
everywhere
everywhere

They won’t shut up
They won’t shut up
Do you know what I mean?
They won’t shut up

There’s a meanness

I can’t whisper an X
without someone telling me no
and they think they’re right
but what do they know?

Answer me
Are they stupid or dumb?

Even when we agree, just look at
that shirt they got on
that looks like a bird shat on
Are they blind?

I wouldn’t lend them a dime
if they were dying
fuckers don’t deserve to go to heaven

I’m steel that would not bend

And yet life won’t let go
despite the smudges in the window
a glare still gets in

Despite the fog
like a silly poem on a metal rod
a nauseating hope melts within

And it’s hard
I know it’s hard
they’ll take everything from your pants to your name
nonetheless
I can’t imagine any other way
it’s the world I live in

It’s too cold outside
and they need me
I’ll build a place for us to live
if it kills me

Just make me an opening
so sun can get in
and I’ll be there

I’ll be there
I’LL BE THERE

I’ll be there?

Serious Writing

OlivettiManifestoM1

I want to write something serious
reportage
a theory
an interview
philosophy
an article
editorializing everything
a piece of think
a transcript
from my visit to the shrink
a review
a political thing
manifesto, I meant, manifesto
a recipe
capital J – journalism
a clever tinder profile
a biography
a play with no lines
ad copy
a thesis
a textbook chapter
opera

But all that comes out is stupid fucking
poetry

blow me

Apology of a Dragon Rider

Kircher-drachen
“I like to ride dragons. The breeze in my face. The warm scales below my butt. What can I say? It’s an experience everyone should live at least once.

“Some people might say it’s wrong, but they’ve clearly never been on a winged-beast going 350 kilometers per hour. Or seen a monster breathe fire onto a truck until it burst into flames. Or devour the charred remains of — well, sometimes it’s hard to tell what it was.

“Don’t tell me that dragons belong in the wild. What does that even mean? Is there such a thing as a flying reptile’s natural habit? Or better yet, is there anywhere that isn’t? Who am I to say? Mankind always wants to interfere in nature’s business and for what?

“The truth is the opposite. It’s humanity that belongs in the wild. We could stand to lose the smattering of societal pretensions that hold us down. Our true self can’t be found sitting at a desk or a table or walking a dog or driving past countless indiscernible street-tied banalities.

“But serpentine flight can take us there.

“Haven’t you ever felt that your life could be so much more?

“Lock me up if you must to justify the fear burrowing into your guts, but don’t call it abuse, don’t say I didn’t love and do everything I could for the creatures. Don’t call me a criminal! I let them fly where they wanted, eat what they wanted, kill, mame or burn down the world itself if it pleased them. They were taken care of.

“The feeling was mutual.

“I discovered who I am and what I’m truly capable of? Have you?”

He was led away slowly to await the jury’s decision — they found him guilty of course! Did you expect a different outcome? That poor child was dead after all.

A raiva do mundo

Singer_Sargent,_John_-_Orestes_Pursued_by_the_Furies_-_1921

A raiva do mundo
é a raiva do mundo
é a raiva do mundo
na distância se ouve algo
é a raiva do mundo

Uma criança pisa em cima de um brinquedo
e chora
é a raiva do mundo

Uma moça rouba 3 pães, 2 maços de cigarro, uma lata de leite moça
e corre
é a raiva do mundo

Um homem compra uma passagem sem volta para Indonésia
e traga
é a raiva do mundo

Dois gatos quaisquer transam em frente da janela
e gritam
é a raiva do mundo

Aquela estátua ali do cavalo com a consciência pesada
é a raiva do mundo

O jornal jogado no chão e os cacos de vidro
é a raiva do mundo

E o ralo
os buracos
furacões
corações parados
sem saldos e vazios
água de borracha
fumaça
açúcar de plástico
garganta entupida
com Deus sabe o que
mais um abraço de chumbo
escorrendo para abaixo
encontro cancelado
com o cafeteiro do lado
mais a cinza dentro da barriga

E eu, sujo, queimado e desarmado, minto para o chefe
e durmo
é a raiva do mundo