ENTER THIS DESERTED HOUSEBut please walk softly as you do.Frogs dwell here and crickets too.Ain't no ceiling, only blueJays dwell here and sunbeams too.Floors are flowers - take a few.Ferns grow here and daisies too.Whoosh, swoosh - too-whit, too-woo,Bats dwell here and hoot owls too.Ha-ha-ha,hee-hee,hoo-hoooo,Gnomes dwell here and goblins too.And my child, I thought you knewI dwell here...and so do you.

You push me to my limits,Tell me I'm a misfit.Tell me I'm a fucked up,good for nothing bitch.Who are you, bitch?Who do you think you are, you hypocritical whore!I just can't take your shit anymore.You put me down, and kicked me when I tried to get up.Leave me alone, Don't talk to me slut.You can't keep me down ho,No matter how hard you try.So keep your damn opinion to yourself.Bitch, bye.

The Little Mute BoyThe little boy was looking for his voice.(The king of the crickets had it.)In a drop of waterthe little boy was looking for his voice.I do not want it for speaking with;I will make a ring of itso that he may wear my silenceon his little fingerIn a drop of waterthe little boy was looking for his voice.(The captive voice, far away,put on a cricket's clothes.)Translated by William S. Merwin

I love you in my very own way.Like a stone loves the mosses around itLike a sea loves the pebbles in itLike a coincidence...Taking you as the way you are,With all the bruises, scars and broken parts all around you and your heart.I love you in my very own wayBy throwing the stone, the mosses, the sea and the pebbles to your headLike i want to kill you.Just because of envying the love That my heart spend on you.

The fusty showman fumbles, must Fit in a particle of dustThe universe, for fear it gainIts freedom from my cube of brain.Yet dust bears seeds that grow to graceBehind my crude-striped wooden faceAs I, a puppet tinsel-pinkLeap on my springs, learn how to think—Till like the trembling golden stalkOf some long-petalled star, I walkThrough the dark heavens, and the dewFalls on my eyes and sense thrills through.

Looking from outside into an open window one never sees as much as when one looks through a closed window. There is nothing more profound, more mysterious, more pregnant, more insidious, more dazzling than a window lighted by a single candle. What one can see out in the sunlight is always less interesting than what goes on behind a windowpane. In that black or luminous square life lives, life dreams, life suffers.

Di gran furore si pregna il suo scheletro,bagliori saettano, uscendo e rientrandoda essa come rincorsi durante una fuga.Sembra un dio del cielo, pieno di boria,quando ai mortali si appresta a elargiredoni che celano invero soltanto inganni.Alza l’avambraccio, contrae il bicipite,rilucono nei sui occhi di ghiaccio le luciornate dai lapislazzuli. Secco il rilascio.Un potente boato squassa l’intero suolo.

Di gran furore si pregna il suo scheletro,bagliori saettano, uscendo e rientrandoda essa come rincorsi durante una fuga.Sembra un dio del cielo, pieno di boria,quando ai mortali si appresta a elargiredoni che celano invero soltanto inganni.Alza l’avambraccio, contrae il bicipite,rilucono nei suoi occhi di ghiaccio le luciornate dai lapislazzuli. Secco il rilascio.Un potente boato squassa l’intero suolo.

اي دوست ،اي برادر، اي همخونوقتي به ماه رسيديتاريخ قتل عام گل ها را بنويس.

Monster a person though monster not human.Monster like music. Like Beatles! Like Schumann!World full of stupid. World full of noise.Monster feel ANGRY. No birthday. No joys.World full of JUNK monster not comprehend.What is a childhood? What is a friend?Monster and human both want the same.Want conversation. Want love. WANT NO PAIN.If monster speak heart: monster life only worsen.Monster not human: BUT MONSTER A PERSON!

To harden the earththe rocks took charge:instantlythey grew wings:the rocksthat soared:the survivorsflew upthe lightning bolt,screamed in the night,a watermark,a violet sword,a meteor.The succulentskyhad not only clouds,not only space smelling of oxygen,but an earthly stoneflashing here and therechanged into a dove,changed into a bell,into immensity, into a piercingwind:into a phosphorescent arrow,into salt of the sky.

My second thoughts condemnAnd wonder how I dareTo look you in the eye.What right have I to swearEven at one a.m.To love you till I die?Earth meets too many crimesFor fibs to interest her;If I can give my word,Forgiveness can recurAny number of timesIn Time. Which is absurd.Tempus fugit. Quite.So finish up your drink.All flesh is grass. It is. But who on earth can thinkWith heavy heart or lightOf what will come of this?

NowNow is the time…Now is the time – Make a changeNow is the time – All is strangeNow is the time – Start life anewNow is the time – Cannot stewHeartbreak, loss, pain, and challenges paleNow is the time – Sharp as a nailNow is the time – Take a chanceNow is the time – Sing and danceNow is the time – Make a changeNow is the time – engageNow is the time…

Bulan Merahlalu ditenggak darah bulan merahlolongnya yang serigala hingga ujung benuasebayang lindap sebayang lindap melayar-layarbulan merah mengucur airmatadengusnya yang api memunahkan negeri-negerisebusur waktu sebusur waktu meluncur-luncurtatap bulan merah di waktu malam merapat di ubun-ubunhingga purnamanya penuh sempurna sebugil bulat sebugil bulan menggigil-gigilo, bulan merah di puncak sunyi geliat sepi amuknya!

True poetry is composed of metaphors and symbols which are born in the heart, rise like clouds, and assume a celestial form; verses formed otherwise are not poetry, but only artificial words, each of which contradicts the feelings inside. The utterances and words that have not been formed in a person’s soul as the voice of conscience are all hollow, no matter how embellished they are or how dazzling they seem to be.