Seaport Dialogues II
In the golden afternoon
The dog of Satan’s dreaming Moon,
Half-eaten bone in the sky.
Heavy dinner, heavy dream.
From the landing-stage I hear a scream!
Like a street dance, evil trance.
good bye son, I bolt you down.
It just tastes fine in the hell,
all my jokes’re selling well.
Slowly moving we both swear
never to be prisoner.
It was a nice honeymoon,
We are cursed and very soon.
Seaport dialogues III
Good and bad only the freedom for.
Danse macabre Rock and Roll!
But a godlike stranger walks the water
and landing at you as a brand new boat.
’Sire, my husband’s the capitan.
’Girl, I’m the scapegoat.
After New York
There is a man and a little girl
walking down the lane, hand in hand.
Among the sunflowers stands a junky,
who turns around.
Anna Frank and Imre Kertész are passing by.
There is gigling and laughter from afar.
I’m straight. Great!
Seaport dialogue with T.G.M.
Ezra Pound and Heiddegger’re killing time in hell.
They are playing kard, sixhundred sixty six.
Their heart is pumping blood and mud.
It’s a hungarian game and a fix.
But no help between our big rivers,
no help beyond the good and bad.
Everybody’s cheering aloud, ri-ri-ri Hungary!
But Our Lady is sad. Virgin Mary for Hungary.
Sex, Drogs and Rockandroll
Please, give me God a cloud in the sky
Swimming slowly above my head.
I lay down my knive and spoon and ... why?
I’m a looser, I said.