Caveat Emptor Press 11: POETALLICA

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Poems:

Fate Destiny Serendipity
Deja-Vu
The Remains of the Project
An Orgy
Burn This Book
Open Deceit
 

Fate Destiny Serendipity

The gates of symbolism
The tool of charlatans
Disguised as harlequins
Singing with troubadours
Roasting over a barbecue
The great slab of holy meat
When this dinner is over
Everybody dies!

The day, the beginning
The beginning of the day
Criticism with no object
By day we are jaded
Jaded with green
Feces
This is my name
This is my number
This is the service of what I am giving to you
I will go on
I will climb up
To the poppy fields
Where I can really sleep
I’ll relax and dream
And give up my ambitions
The struggles of the short life
I’ll stop, contemplate, consider,
Think…
 

Deja-vu

If you come across a situation that seems familiar, it is because you’ve “tried it out” in a dream.  If it develops differently than it did in the dream, that is because your “dream trial” actually ended in failure and you can rest assured that you are probably on the right course.

Spiders fill the sky
Chestnuts bombard us
With fall scents
Colors and flavors
My best time of the year
To think about exhaustion
The leaves the color of words
Words the color of sadness
People walking, separate
Sentimental
Raping each other in the porno film that is my mind
Thinking about that time
And what didn’t happen
Fear and rage,
Regret, denial…
 

The Remains of the Project

Finishing pens
All that writing
So many words
Their meanings conveyed
Through sunsets
Their reflecting of
The periphany sin
A fin breaking the waves
Before sunset
And the appearance of
The blue iguana
Making films of nothing
A whole cast and characters
Lost in non-development
The words all the ones
I read recently
Braille and the funny boulevard
Interviews with ourselves
We don’t relate to
So much time
But never in a good mood
Still buckling down
Saving for the crash
Trying to remember fun
Wanting the pen to run out
The words to dry up
Hoping to become stupid again
Like you never were
 

An Orgy

Embracing the insane world
The ecstasy of another orgy
Try a little of this
But not too much
Cold chills all over my blister body
Trying to solve problems
Break down walls
Swill the cock
Know beauty
Resurface
Relocate
“They’ll never find me here….”
 

Burn This Book

A time of insanity has come
To the life of man
As he says to his fellows
“Burn this book.”

Others rise up to destroy
The plastic empire
Wives or daughters
Knives in hand pleading
“kill me, yes, kill me.”

A man next to no other
Knows he cannot be seen
They want others to be like them
They charge the rhythm
Cause confusion
Run out into the streets
Like frozen figures in a painting
Burning the books, destroying the words
Until there is no learning

Only the ideas can’t be destroyed
Burn this book
They people are gone
Burn this book
Ignore me or listen to my words
Then burn this book.
 

Open Deceit

Never sure when to conceal
The holes torn in the heart
Or when to relax – she won’t notice
So he drops a hint one day
“This is what I like about other girls
What you don’t have
I’m sorry to say
Yet that is still a part of me
Like a movie you never saw
But I’ll never forget.”
Apartment Zero
That girl over there, I’m sure she wants me
How do you feel about that?
Are you warm or cold or nothing?
I am nothing
Speaking a monologue to myself
I will destroy myself to destroy you
I will destroy you to kill myself
But it doesn’t happen after all
I only hear my confession, all those words
She is listening, she is changing, growing,
Knowing she has damned me
I grow older and better
We return to perfection
Not two separate humans
No longer united
And this is how we approach eternity

(epilogue) - a letter
to my interactive friend
fills the spaces
left over in my heart
black and gold, gold pen
black pen on white
gold
gray
this is what
we never see
handwriting
can’t you read
I can’t eat
I can’t see
It is very late now
The air
We drive off and bend spacetime
Music is playing other notes
The words bounce
It is still not fire
Black and gold is still nonsense
The man knows his words
False
The market collapses
The men
All must leave
It is final.
 

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email: Peter Höflich
all writing copyright Peter Hoflich, 2000