The story of the happpiest and saddest man on earth

After 6 months he meets with his girlfriend in an old familiar town. They set an hour and a meeting place. All day, he is psyched to meet her at, let's say noon, 12 o'clock. He buys chocolates, flowers, whatever, and at 12 he arrives there and sees her on the other side of the road. She spots him too. They run to each other. They hug in the middle of the road. A car enters the story and crashes them both.

Next day, at the hospital.

She died. He didn't.

He did lose his memory though. Of everything that happened only that day.

*

Several years later, the man still gets up in the morning, taking the same costume, buying chocolates,
the same flowers, with the same eagerness and happiness harvested in 6 months that now has grown wild, crazy, mad crops, and goes to the same location, at the same time, waiting for the same girl.

The same girl that died in his embrace, crashed by a car several years ago.

Each and every day, the happiness slowly scrubs itself off of his heart with every passing minute, the same confusion instals everytime at the same passing 39 minutes, the same people looking at him, knowing everything he's going to do without him knowing, the same bench he sits on when dispair settles in his soul-sofa, the same places he goes asking about her, the same hand on his shoulder of a man that has to tell him something, the same hospital room he's placed in, the same look in his eyes as he hears the same story of his love, the same pictures of the car crash site, the same death in her eyelid dancing, the same tear in his eye trembling, the same denial and the same "why?" unawnsered, the same sadness of a world in awe, the same collapse against the same cold wall, the same dream that she's not there at all.

*

Several hours later, the man gets up in the same another morning.

poeman

I believe I should have been
a woman
but there weren't any more
female bodies avalible at the time
so they made me
a lesbian woman and put me
in a man's body

that was about as good as
my soul lawyer
could get

every man that writes poems
has lesbian woman souls

except Ginsberg
he wasn't lesbian

wordery

the anatomy of a word cannot be

contained in any books, encyclopedias,

webpages or internets,

the flesh of a word is composed of

infinitisimal quantic fibres that connect 

themselves through uncountable synapes and

nerves, each one, hypersensitive,

hyperresponsive,

conected to millions, trillions, fuckadillions

of networds linked

together and result

in what we know 

as a meaning

which every single human being

on the planet and in outerspace

- all six of them - 

(http://www.howmanypeopleareinspacerightnow.com/)

have an individual unique method

of penetrating its tight vagina sense gateway

we often do this

we often hurt

we, the sword-weilders,

the sense-seekers,

we sense words

use s-words

make s-incisions,

we, the doctors

we, the surgeons,

the urging surgeons,

we cut into each other

in an attempt to seal

wounds

through word surgery,

only to fail in understanding

organisms and produce

hemoragies and ruptures

and evetually

follow

silence therapy

silence therapy - which kills

silence therapy - which heals

silence therapy - chemotherapy

we further study and research

these procedures

untill we will succeed

in killing the listeners

and reviving the dead

we, the surgeons,

we, the urging surgeons

we, the "human"

words

luni-de-lemn

vreau sa tai
trei luni lemne
nu
trei lemne luni

Stuff lift weights and they work out

back again into this old pool
my neck is wet on the inside
skinny dipping in fat lies
I've been burning through whiskey sipping
it's all my fault
I've been feeding them
only fast-food and little thought
gotten so fat and lazy inside of me
they can't move one finger
too big to squeeze out my neck
"get out" I yelled
"I'm not afraid anymore
get out"
their earwax wall was impenetrable
slimy slobs of shame clogging peace

Yoko Ono marched in silently
preaching love to all my cells
said
"hello John"

I got scared,
terrified, petrified
tried to hide under rocks
three rocks and a fifth
had to spill it all out
it's no way to welcome Ono
got up on my drunken sorry skinny ass
looked in the mirror
still looking in the mirror
I have a beard on my face
'cause I hope when I'll shave it I'll become someone else
I wear glasses
'cause I can't see things in perspective
I have a humpback
'cause I'm not a vertical person
Yoko is staring at my ass in the mirror smiling
I hate the mirror
hate it cause it shows me the way I am
should shave
should get lenses
should sit up straight
should go the gym
so i'll burn their calories
have to start lifting weights
stop reading books
weights are always honest and
straight forward or upwards
with no words

her eyes say more things than her mouth does

should start lifting weights so things will work out
no more word-out
should start fat dipping in skinny lies
'n dipping lies in skinny fat
'n fat 'n skinny 'n whiskey
'n lies 'n cherry cheese cake pies she
bakes with her eyes

tired
been running all day on the treadmill
got nowhere
got one big calorie off my soul though
the room is warm with pies
just pies
she heard the door-crack when
I entered
no wax walls
she said
"hello John"

a fost un moment dinală?

dau cu spada într-o piatră
și Excaliburul crapă
de ciudă
cu toate astea niciodată
nu am încurcat salamul cu
pateul vegetal dar mama mereu
spunea ca dacă nu postesc
Miercurea și Vinerea
mă ridic ștergându-mi botul
de la cina cea de taină
și câtă spaimă-n
sânul ei turtit de mine
cât am stat cu capul bleg
pe el de atâta poftă lactică
dar mama
uiți că lactovegeterienii nu
se vor mântui căci le
place cramembertul și
brâna mucegăită

ca'n bar beat

mi'ai cambrat sufletul, iubito
i'ai dat o siletua frumoasa
lină
ca un teatru absurd
de splendid pâna și Ionesco
și'ar face cruce cu nasul
mucos de la atâta Shakespeare

nu'i așa că trandafirul n'are
nevoie de culori să fie roșu
sau de grade Kelvin ca să
ardă?

nu'i așa că sihastrul nu poate fi
sihastru fara ca alți șapte
miliarde să fie
singuri?

nu'i așa că Romeo nu poate fi
rom; eu beau in Julie tătrie
cu tămâie, ard gradele'n
lămâie

nu'i așa că noi suntem poveste
si nimeni nu ne dă de veste
că'i atât de frig în afară
de noi, ia o vestă

nu'i nașa noastră Universul
ce'o să ne'nvețe copilul mersul
e frig afara poartă'mi fesul
pe fesele tale cu porii deschiși
cu pruncu'n poale
cu prezervativu' moale
de nectar de albine culese
n'am nicio grija mă doare'ntre
mesele din bar de atâta muze
ce n'au loc pe buze din cauza
ta-
liei cu care mi'ai cambrat
sufletul