It's the nth day of my fighting loserness

It's only an idea but a persistent one

A head virus that sprays off the eyes and mouth of the infected

A vast number of people

It makes me secretly hope that one day I'll own a beautiful house

With beautiful furniture

A beautiful wife

Healthy kids

And respect from members of the community

What a crock.

It makes me want to make a lot of money

And travel around the world free of cares

It's a standard dream

I didn't do anything to have it

It makes me agonize when my books don't sell

When nobody wants to read them

Because

I want to go back and impress those who doubted me

The ones still stuck in their lives

I want them to dropp their jaws when they see me in my limousine with two bimbos by my side

What a waste of energy and brain space!

And it gets worse

I want to have all the women of the world

I want them to want me

This is a dream I didn't need to forge

As far as I'm concerned I was born with it

I want people to bow to me even after I tell them not to

Secretly I believe I deserve it

Fake refusing shows how good of a person I am

Denying myself what's naturally mine

I want people to talk about me

I want them to say 'that guy is such a good guy; he is super, smart, sophisticated, and not bad looking either'

Nothing can be more natural

I want them to say, 'That guy is always right, we should do what he says, he has the answers'

I make no effort to want this

I want to be famous, I want people to say after I'm dead, 'He was really talented, we appreciate his work, he was truly influential'

What a load of excrement

Expressions of agony
Expressions of frustration
And expressions of love

Lines of beauty
Lines of melancholy
And Lines of joy
Broken down into 0s and 1s
Hurled at nearly the speed of light
Maybe halfway across the globe

Sadness of 0s through hot wire
Crackling electric melancholy of 1s
Fan cooled agony Parading by aloof workers of electronic
And among ads for credit cards, cheap vacations, and publishing scams
Like treasure among the trash
You find and read them at Catchmypostdotcom

The controllers sit on top of their high rises and listen
They have good ears They listen to the message that comes from the perpetual traffic below

They also hear the whimpering: "How cruel is war, "
The clicheic: "Reduce our dependence on fossil fuels, "
They may even read some poems about the crossfires of battle eating up the innocent But perhaps good hearing is unnecessary
The sound of the pumps at gas stations is a deafening roar
That makes the crying over the wars a comic routine The machinery of death is kept in motion by the demanding roar The bullets fly
The bombs set loose their terrifying bass
Deconstructing buildings, bridges, and bodies And the controllers ship the oil, refine it and send it to the gas stations
And people curse the wickedness and cruelty of men
While squeezing the trigger of the pump to fill their tanks to the full

The controllers sit on top of their high rises and listen
They have good ears They listen to the message that comes from the perpetual traffic below

They also hear the whimpering: "How cruel is war, "
The clicheic: "Reduce our dependence on fossil fuels, "
They may even read some poems about the crossfires of battle eating up the innocent  
But perhaps good hearing is unnecessary
The sound of the pumps at gas stations is a deafening roar
That makes the crying over the wars a comic routine
The machinery of death is kept in motion by the demanding roar  
The bullets fly
The bombs set loose their terrifying bass
Deconstructing buildings, bridges, and bodies
And the controllers ship the oil, refine it and send it to the gas stations
And people curse the wickedness and cruelty of men
While squeezing the trigger of the pump to fill their tanks to the full

Today is a spring day
Before taking the next step make sure the plank reaches the pole and not just teeter-totter in the air
(It's a long way to the ground)    

Today is a melancholic day
Today we rebel against what we've been taught Today we resent the teachers who led us astray, And resent even more the ones who failed to leave us a better world  
Watch out for holes
In the dark, the ground comes up to and gives way under you
 
Today we call our flat mate 'an annoying little munchkin' The fight will not be abandoned
The implanted receptors will be uprooted
But today when the limit of the power of the word is, to our dismay and annoyance, evident We renew our vows      
Concave surfaces made of stainless steel are slippery and so are convex ones
Today the childish glee of optimism breaks our hearts
Today the optimist becomes a realist

Today is a spring day
Before taking the next step make sure the plank reaches the pole and not just teeter-totter in the air
(It's a long way to the ground)  

Today is a melancholic day
Today we rebel against what we've been taught Today we resent the teachers who led us astray, And resent even more, the ones who failed to leave us a better world  Watch out for holes
In the dark, the ground comes up to and gives way under you
 
Today we call our flat mate 'an annoying little munchkin' The fight will not be abandoned
The implanted receptors will be uprooted
But today when the limit of the power of the word is, to our dismay and annoyance, evident We renew our vows      Concave surfaces made of stainless steel are slippery and so are convex ones
Today the childish glee of optimism breaks our hearts
Today the optimist becomes a realist

You think it sounds cool don't you
Because you are inside pressing on the gas pedal
Well it doesn't
It sounds malignant and I'm surprised you don't realize this
It laughs at me, true, but it mocks you, it calls you a clown It laughs at you too; it seems to know that it's killing you slowly - the cruelest way to kill But you don't know this
And you don't know how its grotesqueness And you rev up
With my headphones on, you move in silence To the rhythm of my music

I like cities
Western-style cities
A chance to be utterly concerned with the self
A ticket to get lost in anonymity
Oh to survive out of the exploited/exploiter cycle

I also hate cities

They live on crushed bones
Devour stillborn dreams like unhatched eggs
And drink from the cold suffering of the thinly covered bodies sleeping on its dirty gray sidewalks

The mutilated ground is forced to cradle these monstrosities
And once built, these aberrations we call cities continue to destroy the air, the rivers, the soil, and even their own creators
For it is in their nature to destroy
In a constant fluid motion, the unsuspecting prey is lured By tall buildings, glass panes, shiny brass, reckless music, and attitudes of abandon
They are soothed and marinated in various nepenthe
Beer, wine, vodka, heroin, cocaine, weed, men, women
 - Whatever you want to wallow in - Tenderized with hard hopeless work
And when soaked and soft, with no pity, concern, or hesitation The cities devour them
While spitting on their own bellies the carcass of the already consumed

What I wanted to say is being said We hold ourselves hostages
Our captors: pets, plants, TVs, computers, rooms, apartments, houses, complacency, laziness, routines

Proles and philistines do the prole dance
It's like this: one, two, three, turn, one, two, three, turn
On and on and on and on
Seconds turn to minutes and minutes to hours
We start with pirouettes on our minds
Daring free-style moves
But end up with the one, two, three, turn, one, two, three, turn
Old, and tired
Disillusioned and overweight

I don't abandon you
I abandon cages and the captors within

Ah the cool morning air
Employment, people, movement The speed of progress
Not an idler in sight
Hear that cough? It's the sound of progress, dry and painful
Smell that? It's coffee
The smell of progress

But wait, they are not noticed in the green of the summer
But against the white of the winter snow they are all too visible The other society: The older lady patrolling the park hunting for empty bottles The park-bench-sleeper
The mysterious back packer roaming early in the morning
What a terrifying world they summon

It's not surprising
One inch outside routines the cold sets in Don't drop your guard, don't be weak
Or from the weight your shoulders will droop and your back will hunch

The controllers sit on top of their high rises and listen
They have good ears and they hear the masses
The message comes loud and clear from the traffic below

They also hear the whimpering: "How cruel is war, "
The clicheic: "We need to reduce our dependence on fossil fuels, "
They may even read some pathetic poem about the innocent dying in the crossfires of battle

But perhaps they don't need good hearing
The sound at the pumps at gas stations is a deafening roar
It makes the crying over the wars sound insincere, a comic routine People still pump gas into their cars

Meanwhile the demanding roar keeps the machinery in motion And the bullets fly
The bombs set loose their terrifying bass
Buildings, bridges, and bodies disperse in pieces
And the controllers ship the oil, refine it, and send it to the pumps
And people curse the wickedness and cruelty of men
While they squeeze the trigger of the pump to fill their tanks to the full

Yes, walk the streets now doggy You overshot it
You stayed longer than you should, and now, like overflowed water, you slide along the sidewalks and spill into intersections
You've been to enough nightclubs, you've visited enough bars, been to too many get-togethers
You know how these places are and what you'll find in them
You've gone through all the grades and phases of this particular aspect of life
You've taken all the quizzes and tests you wanted to take (and some you didn't want) And now you are free, ready to move on to whatever is next
If you stay you'd be loitering, malingering on the last year of school
You'd sit by the door and watch the new ones come in and take their places
You won't pay attention to the lessons. You've gone through them already
You chose not to be a teacher so you'd just watch. What else is there to do? Who cares? You rather walk on the sidewalks now and concede your place in the nightclubs, bars, get-togethers, and functions to your replacement, whoever he may be
The strangeness of replacements
You replaced somebody and now somebody replaces you
There is no use in standing on the way as people march towards destiny
One day you looked around, realized that everything was repeating itself again, and that you were just an interval in the loop that goes round and round
Your sense of uniqueness drained off
Somebody has done what you are doing now
Somebody did what you have done in the past
And somebody has done what you'll do next
Just go on with your path, you'll be OK
Give way to the new contestants and don't bother telling them what they are in for
They won't listen
They'll pretend, but their minds will be somewhere else, in fame and fortune perhaps, their bodies itching to give in to instincts
Why tell them that they will be performing an old, tired, bothersome, and boring act so many times before repeated? So please, quietly step aside and exit through the back door
Don't insist on staying, you'll just bore yourself and annoy others
Ignorance is needed to make the illusion shine, without it the performance is dull
Why spoil a spoiled performance?

The big man swings his drumsticks at the doldrum slung across his shoulders
He marches up and down the block calling out: Time to work, work, work
Now get up, up, up
Come on, come on, on, on Time to work, work, work Children to the daycare
Children to the schools
Parents to the factories
Those are the rules

Chi, chi, chi,   ah, ah, ah,   The impending carnage on Friday the 13th movies is cued
Shop, shop, shop
Buy, buy, buy The city cues Get, get, get, Take, take, take And people engage in their savage shopping

To the successful with more than enough The city goes on with: Good, good, good, Now, now, now, More, more, more

To the ones who tried and didn't succeed The city goes: Loser, loser, loser, Hate, hate, hate, Your self, self, self

To the ones with even more crap The city goes further with: Don't, don't, don't Stop, stop, stop

And to the ones who still don't succeed at accumulating stuff
The city goes: Cheat, cheat, cheat
Steal, steal, steal Kill, kill, kill

Please don't fool yourself
You don't fool me
I know that we are all sad little fellows
You, behind that palace wall
You behind that Roll Royce, behind that Bentley,
You too are a sad little fellow

You, the singer
Yes you, the famous one with the millions of fans
You are a sad little fellow

You, with all that power
Yes you with all those servants
You are a sad little fellow too

You, the trigger man who does the bidding of the "rich"
You are indeed a sad little fellow

You, the one called beautiful
Yes you, who caved in to the label and can't leave without checking in the mirror
You are a sad little fellow

To the glass smashers of Berlin
Practitioners of deconstruction
The morning light reveals your work of art
I give a nod
Hats off! You target the places where money is kept under heavy guard
The places where fake festers
The places where fake lives, where fake buys, where fake eats
Urban fighters
Activists for a better world
Promoters of sweet anarchy
Stealthy attackers of unholy property, the sinister fortresses of glass and steal
Berlin glass smashers
Holding back the tide of gentrification with rocks, bottles and stones
I'll ignore the look of snobs and drink a Pilsator to you
I hope you never die

We are all this
The drenching flooding storms, the soft rocking breeze  The playful refreshing drizzle, the persistent mist
The deepest gorge, the shallowest depression
The devastating tornadoes, the tiniest erosion
The driest desert and the shiniest stars The brightest days, the darkest nights
We are overcast days and dark sunsets
We see inside to look outside Snow and hot springs
We are of the earth
And the earth is of us
When we trip and fall The earth licks at us
Earth to our bodies
Bodies to our earth
We are poison and nurture Whispers and thunders

There were yellow flowers on bushes trimmed to the height of fences
I wanted to hear what they had to say Colorful Berlin spring
White flowered trees along rivers and under bridges
Green park trees next to benches
Gray streets, orange trash boxes, white, brown, and green glass-recycling bins
Dogs and clouds, buildings and bikers (those who drove cars didn't count) Graffiti on walls, yellow-black public buses, and people dressed in dark clothes (Berlin's uniform) .
There were airplane noises and people bouncing words
Plans made, plans changed, and plans scrapped
There were sirens wailing, beer bottles and beer bottle collectors: The city being a city

"Hi! What's your name? " "Repetition, what's your name? " "Repetition"
"Of course" "We are all Repetitions" "Where are you going? "
"To the same places as usual" "What a coincidence, I'm going there too"
"What are you doing tomorrow? "
"The same things I do on that today" "That's funny I'm doing the same exact thing too"
"Have you seen the other repetitions? " "Yes, every day"
"Yeah, me too"
"Well, I have to go, see you next time"
"Yes, next time"

The madness of the citizenry
The madness only suspected to be there
Shows up glaringly, threateningly
With the behavior of the police

Harassment in the Görlitzer Park
If you are Black: Beware
You are a drug dealer
If you are Black: Beware
You are a criminal
If you are Black: Beware
You are not welcome
If you are Black: Beware
You don't get the same treatment
If you are Black: Beware
You may get kicked out
If you are Black: Beware
You will be searched
Dogs in full uniform will go through your backpack

Juggle your juggling pins
Throw your Frisbees
But if you are Black
The park is a no-go zone And you will be ordered to stand up from your bench
Lift your arms above your head
If you are Black you will be escorted out
And told not to come back until such and such days and at such and such hours

Sit on the grass
Take in the sun
Walk your dog
Unseen racism brews underneath
The madness of the citizenry is harsh
There you have it
Wallow in it
Deal with it
I'll come back

No Berlin I have no drugs for you
I'll come back and post this
Make you see the madness you try to disguise

'Stand up'
Why? 'Because I tell you so'
Bark dog bark
What is this? The madness of the citizenry shows up through its clumsy, fumbling, bungling police
Do you want to be known as racist Germany? As of now I have no problem calling you that
'Keep your hands above your head' You won't find any drugs, you simple minded fools
Only poetry

What is this about? Do Black people not conform to your sick idea of perfection? Are you going to get rid of us too? You've done it before
You have guns and know how to use them
I have pen and paper and know how to use them
You have the backing of your peers and the racist element of your society
I have the backing of Karma
And even if you don't know it
Karma is a b-tch
It will get back at you whether you realize it or not, whether you believe it or not
This is racism plain and simple
Racial profiling (look it up) Come on, don't take steps backwards
Racial profiling is illegal
We know where it can lead
By God, you of all people know where it can lead
Stop police abuse

This is written with the spirit of desperation coming from Detroit's battered neighborhoods
This is for the ones at the brink of homelessness
It speaks for the already homeless Sleeping in front of stores in Montevideo and in the parks of Berlin
It speaks to the confused who can't "get with the program" To whoever needs a push to follow their paths
And to the traveler running out of funds and growing old

If this is not for you, put it down
Line up to see what everybody else  is looking at
Be one of the crowd - yeah, and still think that you're unique
Who cares? It's OK, you'll probably never get what a drag, what a bore, you were Of course you'll never get what a pathetic life you lived
Your life meant nothing
You were one of the million-junk-food-costumers
Another drone
Your brain was paper weight

You could've wasted away on drugs and it wouldn't have mattered—but perhaps you would've had more fun
You sat on the passenger seat and ate ice cream—you looked bored
You repeated what you were told to repeat
You wore what you were told to wear
You went to work when indicated And you went to war when ordered
You wasted precious life in front of television screens
You were only a line in the tally, a dot in the statistical curve
Moooooo! Mooooo! Moooooo! Goes the cow
Baaaaah! Baaaaaaah! Baaaaaah! Goes the sheep Be happy chasing after body parts that self-lubricate
Go play with a herd of male organs
Go on

This is only for those who haven't made up their mind whether to live or to leave
For the ones inconvenienced by the pesky game of survival and the efforts to mask its grotesqueness (To package it, and to present it as something decent) This is for the one that sits alone at midnight staring at the water
If it's not for you, go on, read Walt Disney
This is for the one awake at 3 am thinking WTF? The one looking around in frustration and puzzlement
Not for the followers of celebrities. (Oh no, I too poop says the celebrity surprised and disappointed)
This is for the desperate on the verge of suicide, for the disgruntled with no way out
—It won't make sense to anybody else—
This is for the ones who understand the passion and pain of the penitent
This is for "smart" people

The system destroys whoever doesn't "get with the program" But why keep quiet about it
We insist in belonging to a corral, and if we don't, we make one for ourselves
I may not be a wolf but to me one sheep is as good as a cow
This is for anybody in the system
These are combative writings, the writings of an underdog, not bedtime stories
We are what we are and do what we do because we refuse to give in to the cookie cutter
Now we suffer the pressure meant to break us

You will never understand, you will never comprehend
But you will have children
And they will have children
And you will build villages, and towns, and cities, And you'll create languages (or perhaps one will be given to you) And you will believe
And you will label
And you will divide yourselves among yourselves
You will fight in wars and escape with your life by a miracle (Or die most freakishly) And you will be driven by instinct
And want nothing else but to reproduce, to feed, and to relieve yourself
You will know how to keep yourself healthy (or not) You'll know how to make money (or not) And you will hate others
And you will love
And you will laugh
And you will cry
And...and...and...
You will speak in hushed tones and in low voices
Or scream as loud as you humanly can
And you will smile soliciting company
Or you will chuckle nervously
You will court a woman (or a man) You will create laws and break them
Or lay your life upholding them
You will kill and you will travel (or stay put) And you will abandon your family or your family will abandon you
And you will invent
And you will manipulate
But you will never understand
You will never comprehend
And you will think you are better than others
And you will chase them away
And you will want to save yourself
And you will look at the birds and will want to fly
You'll have pets, and pets will have you (you will be somebody's pet) And you will notice the cycles and you will be a part of a cycle, and you will imitate cycles
And you will be a cycle within a cycle
And that cycle will be a cycle within another cycle
And you will be misunderstood
And you will be flattered
And you will be adored
And you will be watched
And you will be ignored
And you'll strut
And you will limp
You will stand (or sit) And you will lie down on beds or on the grass or the sand or the dirt, and you'll wish to be older, or younger
You'll wish for things you will not withstand
Or wish for too little
And you will wish you didn't understand
And you'll wish you understood more
But you will never understand really
And you will create order
Or promote disorder
And you will look around
Or straight ahead
You'll stifle a cough And you will run, walk, or stand still, And you'll get tired, or be restless, But you will never understand, you will never comprehend
You'll be numbed
You'll be terrified, sad or glad
You'll write poems, compose songs, play instruments
You will draw and paint
You'll notice the summer, spring, fall, and winter
And you will write for hours
And your heart will ache
And you will stare for hours and do not comprehend still
You will be alone and wish for company
You'll have company and wish for solitude
You will be hot or cold
You'll sweat and be dry
You will swim
You'll paint your face and talk close to the one next to you
But you will not understand, you will not comprehend
You'll be outside wanting in
Or inside wanting out
You will love the day and hate the night
Or hate the day and love the night
You'll move at night and stand still in the day, or vice versa
You'll get tired of reading this and think there is no point to it
And be annoyed by the ands
And...and...and
Your turn will come and your turn will end
And another cycle will begin
And again will happen again
And you will realize you are imprisoned and know not what to do
You'll look around and see others, prisoners as well, who will not see you (or the prison) And you'll choke and hate the blind and hate your shackles
You will peer in between slots and above rows And you will peer from around columns
But you will not understand
You will never get it
You'll know that it's all a farce
And you will partake of this farce and want more
But there will be no more

Neighborhoods behind bullet-proof glass
Neighborhoods paved with broken glass
Neighborhoods straining under the overweight
Where the word "trust" fell to the bottom of dictionaries
The phrase "common sense" fades
The word "responsibility" flickers on and off And the word "survival" barely makes it—funeral homes are a booming business
Neighborhoods where the sky and its majestic sunsets are wasted on cell phones and cars
No control is as bizarre as extreme control It's not safe at night in these neighborhoods; there is really nothing to do there anyway, so don't go out Neighborhoods where, like in mosquito infested swamps, corrosive ideas are persistent and they want to get you: Be prepared to ward them off Be prepare to be weary

Your love is a point, the right pressure The tension that creates the bright hill Above the dark valley's trenches
It is also the opposite When it oscillates and turns upside down: The dark point of the abyss Where light doesn't reach

I need a break from prole shoes, shirts, pants and hats
A break from the cool strips where young dudes and dudettes forget that they're only human
A break from the ones who don't help themselves
It is so tiring

From the first breath we take we jump into the wheel and round and round we go
The madness has gone on for-like-ever
I'm tired of the cold, the lack of sleep, the worshipers of cars, and the shopping malls
The high heels, the short skirts, the vacant looks, and the empty talks
The pointless trading, the glass panels, the baby strollers, and the way we stall

Will this smothering crawl modernity ever stop?

I need a break from prole shoes, shirts, pants and hats
A break from the cool strips where young dudes and dudettes forget that they're only human
A break from the ones who don't help themselves
It is so tiring

From the first breath we take we jump into the wheel and round and round we go
The madness has gone on for-like-ever
I'm tired of the cold, the lack of sleep, the worshipers of cars, and the shopping malls
The high heels, the short skirts, the vacant looks, and the empty talks
The pointless trading, the glass panels, the baby strollers, and the way we stall Will the smothering crawl modernity ever stop?

Somewhere it will be said (or thought)  that I became a lost case
I know I'm lost but I don't want to be found
What would it mean? I enjoy the stranded road

I've walked around cities and graveyards
I've talked to city dwellers (and only frightened them)
I explained myself
People walk right through my explanations as if through imaginary friends
"I thought you saw my points, " I complain "I did, " people reply, "I still do, " they assure me
And then they walk right through them again

There is no use in getting upset
(Who wants the awareness—or to hear the scratches of —the bug trapped in the bathtub?) In the end let it be known I fought against depression
- And material success wouldn't have helped-
Material success would have meant talking in circles to avoid the darkness and the terror It would have meant never crossing the line that we barely see
- And when we do see it, we shudder at the thought of drowning- You may be a canary or a dove; I'm a raven, a crow It's a progressing condition
Still going on

I long for the desert

It couldn't have been left to us We have to be forced to give back what is not ours
Cycles go on
We want them to stay
We hold on and are left with relics Long-lasting bloodless marriages Stale friendships
Grins for smiles We would never relinquish our bodies We wouldn't willfully go back to the earth, the dirt, the trees, the creepy crawlers, the grass, the mushrooms, the moss, and the underground water springs.

Corporations: hundreds of years twisting and distorting people's destinies
Corporations and governments hijacking the dreams and the instincts of the young
Harnessing the young
Saddling them
Steering them with threats of survival, and the fear of ridicule from peers You were born to travel
There is a kink in your DNA that makes you go, go, go
Why take a pill to alter your chemical composition so you can be a lawyer? You were born a musician
You live in a constant world of music Why go to therapy to be a good accountant? You were born a prophet
You hear the voices and see images no one else does, why would you run from that and become a brick layer? You were born to add numbers why would you want to be a singer? Be who you are I turn my head to see you turning your head to see another turning his head, to see another turning her head, to see another turning his head…

We have the right to be quiet and to be alone To defy the bad reputation given to melancholy (It's such an unfair slander and it leads us to blunder) Sometimes I walk at a funeral pace in and out of Berlin's parks

We are forced to laugh, to seek funny sayings and funny sights
To swallow useless placebos of maniacal laughter It does not equal happiness

Life is sadness There is happiness in sadness There is beauty and wisdom in sadness Though few realize this through the madness

And it is grotesque however you look at it
You think your life is perfect, it's grotesque
You drink too much
You laugh too much, you cry too much
You never laugh, you never cry
Your face is beautiful or it isn't
You have too much money or too little of it, It's grotesque
You are extremely pious or extremely cynical
You are a loner or have too many friends
You are too smart or too dumb
Too strong or too weak, It is grotesque
Your days are too long, or too short
It is too cold or too hot, It is grotesque
Don't pull on loose threads
You conform or you resist, the clock ticks away
You want or you don't want, it's all bland
Be well-behaved or don't behave well at all, the road goes on
So we scratch the surface and are content with the top
We don't go deep and miss what's underneath, It's grotesque