SMALL TALK AT BUKOWSKA AND LIBELTA: A poet in Poznan. - Poetry Chapbook, 2012.

“Krabo” They say moon is the same for everyone Streets are hostile or friendly Nothing depends on your luck You exist cause you’re taught to...

Wednesday, January 18, 2023

3 poems, 2023/01/18.

The moon, a story

In every man's prison, the demise of god
the stranglehold of life
death comes nearer
in this sunken theater on Sunday
there are times of drunken perfection
there is bourbon in the moon
there is moon in the glass
there is glass behind the wheel
driving to LA
Friday night
where you hope to find pieces
of cacti sisters waving
in a sudden epiphany of doom
there are some who are lost
and to them you have to offer your dance
dance on the verge
of your car
of love
of a story
when time is running backwards
and all your mind wells are dry
true,
you are the underdog here
but you give hope
and light's sunrise
when the moon is total stoned

Static Peace

There are many visitors recently
in the arcana of disaster
lured by the disco stench
of the post-hippie 70s
there are many wars, and people are dying of hunger
elsewhere on the planet
but here, in static peace
there are chances weaved
and water and beer and vodka
are drunk happily
how long will it last you think
you wipe your ass in the morning
and stare at your wife
her picture in the toilet
there, across the tiles
you are rich
you are well-developed
but I tell you, son
bury yourself with the rockets
your richer cousins are shooting at the world
and soon ricochets will blind you
and bury you below the waste
and then you will notice
me and my friends
gathered inside this house
on real static peace
high like the weeds of the city

Amazing

I once was invited to a room with no windows
green lights flashing
trash on the floor
some shared books
and the scent of weed
there was a pianist there
who said she loves me
and then she told me there was a party, hey
and if you feel like
coming over
you'll do your best
to stay
but I did not believe her
I left this room with no windows
and tried to find another room
in reflections of  a man
I saw a ladder
leading upwards
to a room with no doors
and then I felt enlightened
and I wanted to stay there
unbothered
except maybe some friendly calls
from winos and hookers
but blues has its price
and solitude is amazing
yes, brother
isn't it amazing

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