April 2013 (4)

16 April 2013 at 23:27 (Poems/Poetry) (, , , )

how one can speak with mouth shut
he can I said
when one’s stomach exposes little hand
it holds kitchen knife to jab the skin
demanding something to eat
one says out loud
what others tend to keep quiet
the price of opinion is nerve rending
yes, I am of opinion
it is about thirty three years ago
since brew words carefully
in case others get mad
often say little
between field of sky and my shoes

in a living room
I toy with a cold seat
carefully arrange dirty plates
straighten regrets
uncertain what I must do with the preparation
night after night re – telling little hand
this is all worthless
wind blows litter in circles
and expectation, no matter how true,
fall asleep mid-sentence
outside the common bin (10th April 2013)

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April 2013 (3)

16 April 2013 at 23:23 (Poems/Poetry) (, , )

what kind of toes are these
that forgot to be first on the dance floor
when the music started
took a step back as not to be seen
are they really mine
acting as container
not taking a walk for pleasure
in vain and everywhere
in heels
getting stuck between paving stones
losing weight for no reason

they enter alone into day
with attitude
no matter how unexpected
is assimilated
slide into bed
meeting a ceiling
and maybe all they have is time
that are running out of (08th April 2013)

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April 2013 (2)

3 April 2013 at 21:23 (Poems/Poetry) (, )

in his dreams
I am a neighbor next door
peering topless behind blinds
when he starts the car
he is waiting for me to blow him a kiss
in reality
I am a migrant shift worker
in a damp secondhand room
I hear him whispering
‘you are a good factory’
when he rubs my breasts
a cranky puzzled girl
with none of the answers
to match his language
my mouth slick with forbidden candy
I attempt to hush his ‘suck me bitch’ (02nd April 2013)

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April 2013 (1)

3 April 2013 at 21:13 (Poems/Poetry) (, , , )

this story in not even close
to be pornographic
picture a man who tried to explain
he does not have a nervous disorder
dr ‘one can never be too sure’
filled his veins with liquid until
began to do its work efficiently at last
move to another image
garbage collection every Thursday
that man held in the bin
stillborn imitation of himself
for five minutes stood on the verge of threshold
afraid of
putting action to his desire to split him in two
turned back
timing was bad but a moment invited herself
she slapped his face as if were his wife
in her, he saw his shadow
half of nothing is still nothing
confused asked her to stay
story told in thirds
ended warming her palm
against his cheek

no more rubbish (02nd April 2013)

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