My friends and I have already pressed our first project, and it was a poetry compilation called pedantic pedestrians (you can read it here). I felt the urge to share some of my poems here despite the fact that I do not intend this to be a literary blog. Please forgive the shameless self-promotion, haha.
So I created the poem
according to my own image:
in the image of I, I created it,
poem and poem I created them.
Suffice it to say, ladies and gentlemen, it was horseshit.
The Messiah is Nuts
After an hour of provocation, the
Psychiatrist disclosed the
Diagnosis: messianic complex.
I laughed: it was so hilarious
That my face displayed no mirth, but
A crumpled face of a child taking
A nutty diarrhea dump.
So I stood up, started to strip:
After all, I was itching to
Dance, naked, on that golden
Plate, until my teeming sweat reflects the sun, my
Dong swinging in frenzy to and fro, in front
of her twisted face.
He Wet His Pants at 21
Proton by proton, his eyes
dissolves into a viscous mass
of a boiling eggyolk;
lanterns fly amid
the murderous flame; the scribe doodles a
penis at the last pages of his biography;
mothers weeping for their final blood;
as I watched the drifting ship from the pier;
two eyelashes on my wet thumbnail.