ZERO ZERO IN THE YELLOW-STAINED AMPHIBIOUS BOTTLE
OF POACHED PERCEPTION, OR 9 O'CLOCK P.M.

The round and round
The round and round
It was a long time, no
It was a long time?
No!
But, over too soon
But it all depends
On which end of the gun you're standing on
Behind
Oder?
Behind

Behind the feedbacklife
Life as a bad habit
A knife in the dark
Your voice
No depth, no substance
'Tis merely objective
An observation of the physical qualities of a sound wave
Clearly, the essence of secondhand perception
The byproduct of cause
The essence of two-dimensionality

Perception flawed
A piece of paper torn in half
Milk, sandpaper and snow
All blended together in a great black pot
In my ear
And dubbed
Mixed down with effects
Did it have to be black?

You had called me on this particular plane
Apologies for Inconvenience
Reception as null
Revelation in the Null Null
Of substance
A moment im Klo
Of mind
A moment in infinity
In the third, in the Next
Two seconds later
See you tomorrow
Don't want to miss you
Lach kanosch
Don't know - to hear you
Lach kanosch
Sketchy sketchy
Lachkanoschlachkanoschlachkanosch
Lachkanoschlachkanoschlachkanosch

PROGRESS ON A BLIP SCREEN

Today I chipped my tooth
The calcium never pays
The fields of milk they lie
They lie and stroke like silk
I'm writing a letter
To an answering machine that just hoards voices
Each letter is a postcard
A collage
A documentation
A scrapyard full of bones
Full of chips and lips and hits
Each addressed to no one
(Apparently)
Please return to sender

There was another girl with a broken tooth
I could've sworn her name was Nikki
But, we both knew it wasn't
There were many of them with the same name
The red and black hair
Both alike, yet not
A series of fits
Of epileptic seizures from one's imagination
Or just a broken melody on a banjo
And there was a structure
But, their names were never Nikki
Besides, those destined for Italy
Have merely five seconds to live
A long time, no?

Tonight, the arms fell off my clock
But, that's all right
Now we can no longer be crucified
We have better things to do, anyway
Than to go around trying to be martyrs
A crutch and a medal
Those things are for those with swimming pools
And for those who hold their heads up high
With cosmetic surgery and helium balloons
I prefer the liquid crutch
If I want hallucinations
I want to enjoy them

KITTY BOYS

Peace is the word of Existence
Crushed is the thought of its Fate
Flowers paint mood of the table
Thorns pierce the side of your leg
Why must you hide under false smiles?
Attribute them to Everything
Peel the dead skin off your lipstick:
White breasts of nature unveiled

Children grow up in a locked cell
Laced with chocolate distractions
Rocks, horses, flowers... -- all happy:
Biped ventriloquism
In a world where nothing dies
(Passing to another place)
There is no reason to worry
Throw your voice to everything

Children of the snow eat candy
ROBOtic COPulation
Smiling and sewing the fabric
Static vibes fly through the air
Drink from the grail of misfortune
Or just a kick in the head
"Wake up! Get out of my nightmares."
Keep your door open for light

Peace is the word of Existence
Crushed is the thought of its Fate
You can have candy cane meal times
But, notice the razors inside

JINGO JANGLE

Walk into the bank. Keep your eyes directly in front of you. On the streets walk the blind. They bend down and read the cracks on the sidewalk with their fingertips. The newspapers are all painted black. You read the smeared ink just the same. You pull out the penknife and take out some money. Play your part in Democracy. The consumption of commodities: the only part you have.

Under the terrorist flag. The red, white and who? Acts of aggression under a different, more agreeable term. Fighting For Freedom. Your assessment and acceptability of the situation at hand has been manufactured. Vacuous concepts to believe in. Slogans. Yellow ribbons. Novelty flags. It's all yours: the flag is wrapped around your mouth, and the ribbon's tied around your neck. Propaganda is to Democracy what the bludgeon is to a Totalitarian state.

GOOD NIGHT

A face in the sand brushed away by the hand
Our memory, gone with the wind
We know nothing, and never will
We never choose to dig our own graves

Take pleasure in sin before it's too late
For tomorrow it will be too late
You will disappear like a fading smile
And will be re-cast like the toss of the die

CHORUS:
     We held on to the rail till our knuckles turned white
     And waited for morning to come
     Towards the horizon, we never looked back
     The last toast, the last dance
     Good night

CHORUS

The howl of the wind never leaves a trace
We always choose to live as someone
Companion to none, or a knife in the back
Passively waiting for the right time to come

Take pleasure in sin before it's too late
We know tomorrow will be too late
All is in vain; your prayers mean nothing
The last toast, the last dance
This is good night

CHORUS

The last toast, the last dance
Good night

The last toast, the last dance
Good night

The last toast, the last dance
This is good night

SOVIET KÖLPONY

Last night the sky changed colors again
The ever-shifting horizon <undulating>
A light switch
Memory explodes
The nocturnal shards that introduce morning...
Like crayons of wax

The bubbles rise up from the lips (<fzz! fzzz!>)
And every night
From each ear, eye, and curious cavity
Colors of all shapes and sizes
Past and Simple Past
Never to be reckoned with
Always to be scrubbed and cleaned
A clean slate
Editors and publishers...
It's the history of the world

CINDER

You are nothing
A black pile of ashes
Set from within
You're a human candle
I stare at your feet and take in the lingering vapor
There's nothing in the room and nothing upstairs
Matching denseness sprouts from the heap of your remains
Taints the soil you walk and others who follow
You feed the machine
It acts as your lover
Coquettishly it laughs
It wants no other kind
It feeds you matches under a watery sky
I wish I could ignite everybody else like you

Always nothing
You stuff your face with deceit
You eat off the plate in shadow of two-faced coins
Feeding your clay figure
So easily moldable
You start to sense the sparks
You quickly want to change sides
Your hair starts burning right up from the roots
Your crystal head is next
I always saw through you
An uneasiness begins in your knees
As a smile emerges on our faces
And you fall to the earth in a pulp
I want to see you go down with a flame

HEISTERBUSCH 14

When you move
The saw plays in the background
Every movement
A Dutch inflection
Each attempt at rest
Punches a hole in your dimension
It is the third
But, do we share it?

A windmill crucifixion
A line of ducks to cross the street
In single file
With iron boots
Try to sew your eyes shut
No voyage to Mars will render you blind
And gluttony's a virtue
And recognition never pays

In search of fine cathedrals
Christ's message on a postcard
Paper dolls lay empty in a tunnel
The needle passed, the blue light flickers
Glance at the reflection before you
A pile of vomit
The lady of the lake
The dew upon the horse's hooves

Throw potatoes into caves
All familiar corpses lie within
Watering the plants and flowers
The blooming skulls, the photographs
Death is photogenic, dear
Babbles in a foreign tongue
Language as exquisite corpse
The skin inside the closet hangs

LATERNE

I want to be a hat
I want to be a hat
So I can walk around with you
Wherever you go
Where ever you go
And when you're not looking
I'll peek into your skull
And see what you're thinking

I could be a building
In a modern city
Standing with the others
But, they wouldn't understand
They wouldn't understand
The nurturing aspects of my intentions
They'd bar their doors
And board their windows
But not me
No, not me!

I want to be a hole in the ground
A big, black hole to swallow you up
But, not just any hole
One with a strong, iron lid
Like a doorway to the sewers
So I can take you in
And astonish you
With my amazing hospitality
I will feed you
And I will study you
And I will feed you
Until I earn your trust
And then...

MARZIPAN MOON

Pop stars and idols
They are stapled to the wall
This piss-colored wall
Or maybe not
Perhaps it is merely stained
Like the vision inside my mind
And so I sleep with these girls
Of whom I do not know
(Though some I do)
They belong to someone else
We share the same blood
And they stare down upon me
Night after night
With the same exact gaze
And those lips and those thighs
Yes, they are always the same
And with pursed lips, they remind me
Yes, they remind me every night
Sometimes at one, or at three, or at four
In the morning
They remind me
Nee, urge me
That I'd better decide
I'd better decide
Before the blood in this room laps me
For right now
It's twelve years and counting
Only twelve years, but gaining
This blood
This stain

And the glare that circles the room
It flutters about my head like a moth
This way and that way
And which way to that way?
Always the glare
And though I seem to think
That the glare comes from the mice
That hang from the ceiling
I could be wrong
For here you can never tell
You can never be sure
Because of those stains upon the wall

TZAK TZAK

"Meet me at the station," was what she said before everything in her life came crashing down upon her. She was a victim of ideas. She was a monument to herself, which in itself was created by bricks and stones held together by nothing else than more ideas. "Quickly now..." You'd miss the train. Stumble through those streets of Europe. Pick up matches along the way. Points of interest lead to sparks. Another good idea along the way. Shake hands with the corpse. Another good idea. Yes: an irregular pulse. Head weighs a ton.

The chocolate-brown coat with the feathery trimming flutters in the distance. She's a speckle up ahead. She's a spot on the horizon. Catch her with binoculars. We know that there are bandits. And time will sabotage the future. The dartboard hangs upon your back. A bull's eye in the dark. A good shot in the back. My best friend holds the darts. My favorite enemy holds the cards.

"Hurry up, you'll miss the train." Stepping over curbs. Sidestepping over selfish minutes. Whisking by the addicts with the blue horse in the tunnel. Skipping stones and skipping rhymes. Up ahead: a flagpole in the ground. Say your farewells quickly, and then run. Go go go go go...

The chocolate-brown coat flutters in the distance. Time has sabotaged the future. My best friend holds the darts, and my favorite enemy holds the cards.

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