Words words words I am not sick of them

Words words words words words words words words
Can can can can can can can can can can can can
Not not not not not not not not not not not not not
Kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill
But but but
They they they they they they they they they they they
Express express express what what what what
We
Think and feel and what we do not think and feel
But if we do not have the freedom to express our selves
Then then
Our world / words will be limited limite limit limi lim li l ..

So so so

At a ball
at a dinner
off to bed


so high that I need to booze
so low that I need to schmooze
so mediocre that I need to snooze

so
so
s(n)o(re)

Lost a book memory

Ever tried to read a book
and you know you have been in it before?
no clue of what it's about -
except you have a vague feeling
of deja vu  for the umpteen time encore
My memory is a snook!

month of April haiku

Last days of April
Wild ride and a slower one
Tempo andante

Couldn’t taste it

From the corner waiting
For a table at an Italian diner
Nothing is a reminder
Of sweet Roman eves
Of Vespas whisking by
Of the trassevere area
Where I once stayed
Only wanting to savor
A gustatory memory
Comparing an old street
In an urban Roman spot
With the new suburbs
In a strip mall in the U. S.
Does not come across
Even though the food
Was actually quite tasty!

Because I said so

This is a poem
Because I say so
Schopenhauer’s
Will to see the reality
Is based on his
Empirical ideas
The colors in music
Remain an illusion
Only the metaphysics
Of this illusory game
Called human will
Is to be questioned.
Is this still a stanza?

Lopper i maven?

Har vi lopper i maven
eller er det fuglefjer -
forventningsglaede?
Er stress og sygdom
for en gangs skyld
ikke en undskyldning?
Er det bare det
at se fremtiden an
i et roedmende lys?
Skal jeg give svar
paa noget som jeg
end ikke aner endnu?
Er det at et menneske
snart skal foedes
ikke nok for eftertiden?
Er hver eneste draabe
enkelte hop eller drop
ikke et mikrokosmos?

Encore le trou

Comme dans une boite
enchainée et coite
rien m’attire ici
je suis crucifie
il faut me reveiller
et vraiment resserrer
mon esprit et mon cul
ne sont des pustules

Every day stress

Boiling underneath
quietly stressed
sleep deprived
what else is new
in a woman's state

Low key anger
seeking relief
still sleep short
what else is there
of a woman's fate

It is the everyday
that wears you down
it is the every way
that tears you up
on  a woman's plate 

French Baguette

A longish lament
Or a lopsided loaf
Of soulful sadness
having devoured
The death poet’s
Daunting  declaration
Of freedom from
Tyrannical toads
Following Neruda’s
Painting bread
As pecuniary words
Knowing kneading
Is necessary to
Form a fancy
French baguette
But to bake it
Is a caustic case
Requiring respect
For winding words
Which one can
Eat with pleasure
Or swallow swiftly
It being Gallic
Goes without saying
Theatrical tales
Of breads and words

redacted reality

Idealistic world views
Remain illusional
Realistic world regards
Allude to starkness
Dark world soothsaying
Hails tyrant idiocy
With no respect for
Humility and humanity.
Suppression of poets
Thinkers and the press
Undoes the earthly visions
when nothing but anger
Can allude to the coming
Revolutionary realm.

W- tale

my uncle took
my virginity

13 years old
I was sold

I would not
but I had to

I was tatooed
and sent

away to serve
old - young

my baby died
in my womb

I still served
young and old

in a brothel
somewhere

To tolerate
what happened

is is a wonder
that I did drugs?

By the time
I was 27 -

I had served
more 10000 men

what else
Is there to say?

Learning

Grasping new stuff
is a full cause
never give up
or take a pause
if you just stop
or take a breath
it 's a junk shop
a sudden death!

Names

A Florence or a Charles
Projecting your hopes
For a future of a child

Waves up and down
With the seasons’ change

By calling somebody
Napoleon or Eurydice
You can doom or promote

It depends on the throne
Or the walk from Hades

What follows who
Wherefore and pride
First of the last

A line dies out slowly
Another combi begins

virtual unvirtuality

My virtual vagina would very
Much melt and mull over
a melting manhood’s spire
Only the odds are against
such a sucking saber -
Since it is an imaginary
Of a lavishly lusty labia
And dreams does not do it!

Torsten Tordenskjold

En Tordenskjold blev født idag i Gentofte
For firsindstyve år siden  den 17 April
En måned før fejring af Nordlandets frihed
Han satte sejl til sit skib
Drog nordpå og søndenom
Igen nordenome i et par år
Og fandt med viv og sønner
Et liv til fulde arbejde og frivillighed
Endnu en fulriggers drejning
Mod de Frankiske elverkald
Her har herre Torsten så
PåTaget en fritids kappe og drysset
Malerklatter og rotarigets ansvar
På sin gavmilde ryg alt imens
Hans dejlige Ia forsvandt over havet
Og i flere bede i det franske land
Musikforeningen styres roligt
Og hvad de expatrioterne kræver
Truppen der danses folkelige kæder
Plus ikke at forglemme vinsmagning
Et gammelt hverv som turist guide
Og fester og almindelige middage
En Tordenskjolds soldat som nyder
Opgaver og næsten ikke siger nej
Fordi under frihedsbrevets svanesang
Er det en glæde at gøre ting for andre
Og egentlig ikke tænke meget på
Sit eget jeg og i fritidens oldnorske
Faste Principper  - de svinger med -
sådan er min Torsten Tordenskjold

Godot - in memoriam

on the bench
at the bench
in the bench
up the bench
-
seriously sad
sadly serious
under the bench
near the tree
-
godot -
or not godot-
go get to not got

-

never got the dot



waiting
for students to drop-in
will sometimes
drive tutors at center
to mischief

Shake

A handshake vapidly shake
Another’s firm and fast -
Could it be timidity
Anxiety or just arthritis
While its opponent squirms
Lack of confidence reigns
Alas one should be careful
Judging the washy hello
Embracing empathy
And go light on turn-offs.

La femme fatale??

Mon destin est conditionné
par les hommes plus agés
les pépés intelligents
des mâles flamboyants
des hommes de pouvoir
des héros de boudoir
sans que je puisse bien
les éviter - les Européens.

Mes phantasmes irréalisables
totalement incroyables
jamais j'ai eu des rêves
d'être vraiment la fille d'Ève
embrassant les plus jeunes
comme un vampire qui dejeune
sur le sang des petits andouilles.

Ma figure cache une gargouille
qui observe toute sa vie passée
en haussant les épaules blasées
en réalisant completement
on n'évite son sort sûrement.

un clin d’œil

Un jour de plus
M’applaudit
Je me sens nue
Sans ton clic!