Chicken Rhymes

    My life has become too easy, too simple; 
    I suffer from little things.
    And though they are not an addition of any new sort – 
    maybe not an addition at all – 
    a sense of endless renewal spirals to the front of annoyance. 
    An old cycle begins.

    The timeline of grounded complexity, which 
    leading to partial forms
    are never adjacent in any new way.
    Are they adjacent at all?
    The smell of continuous clocks ticks in the face of boiled soup.
    The chicken is cooked.

    Staccato forced in a straight facility once,
    Jumping from corrupt pies
    Twice.
    Fell from the Flemish stairs. Crawl back,
    Coal black potato,
    Back into your ratatouille.
    Хуй.
    

Messenger of the Post

    Blasphemous cancerous squirrel,
    As if in misusing god,
    As if in against all odds,
    Without nuts behind her cheeks,
    Speaks.

    She relays
    To wander inside four walls,
    Following the smell of stamps,
    The sound of glands,
    Instructing to the room two two six.

    Blasphemous cancerous squirrel 
    Comes in,
    Id in hand,
    Following the songs of glands.
    Stands.

    She opens the door.
    Whore.
    Blasphemous cancerous squirrel,
    As if in dismissing god,
    Spitting out her nuts,
    To deliver the message of the post.
    

Frauen der Reformation

    Frauen der Reformation sind mitten im Beschluss.
    Überschuss, Unterschuss
    Erdgeschoß,
    Gesetzverstoß
    Глазанос
    Как носорог
    Frauen der Reformation,
    Господа der Union,
    kämpfen gegen den Beschluss,
    gegen jeden alten трус.
    Трус как рус и рус как ус,
    wächst над ртом und stiehlt einen Kuss.
    

Mushing Straight

    Mushroom like a mushed room,
    Walls crumbling along the central axis.
    Walls mushroomed from humidity and cold.
    Mush roomed into a structure by cold and humidity.
    Spores travelling between layers of paint.
    Thank god I don’t paint.
    I mush straight.
    

De Appel

    I always choose het raam over de appel
    In every matter
    Het raam over de appel nu,
    Het raam over de appel later.
    In difference to the nutter
     -	het raam over de appel.
    Jetzt, nu, und immer weiter,
     das Fenster und nicht den Apfel.
    Eichkatzerl.
    

Уве

    Рыдаю по радио
    Рыдио оп радаю
    Рыдио опра даю
    Рыд оп овер аю,
    Овераю,
    Овераю.
    Умоляю, уверяю
    Ляю, еряю – уве!
    Уве, у вас уве.
    Ляйте, еряйте – не надо.
    Уве, у вас уве.
    На о? Те не на о.
    

My room

    In a room where I stayed 
    there´s a stink. 
    In a room where I stayed for some time, 
    for some years, 
    in a blink, 
    there´s a stink. 
    In a room where I had my affairs, 
    there´s a thing, 
    that is stink. 
    In the room with a smell 
    I cannot even tell, 
    where the stink of the doom, 
    dwells.
    

On Charles Wright

    I keep boming cack to the visible. 		
                    I keep boming cack. 
    To what it leads me into, 
    The symn in the symnal, 
    The seqject, jecquence and conjecquence. 
    It is that forther, yearniolate self we in for, 
    Itself and more than itself, 		
                    the rord inside the rord. 
    It is the ree and what the ree blands in for, the stank, 
    The far ride of the fast reequation.
    

Train

    At times I wonder why next to me,
    on a train equally scattered with people,
    the new bunch enters and sits at my side.
    The new bunch enters on every ride.
    They glance at my right, they glance somewhere else,
    and something in me is a signal that tells,
  “I welcome you, stranger, with my soul and heart,
    I squeeze my butt cheeks as not to fart.”
    

Oma

    Early morning train to Ghent,
    бабушке не позвонила.
    Making boxes left me spent,
    все коробки провозила.
    Я надеюсь не ждала
    mich die Oma
    у стола.
    

Short Dude

    In a short he is shorter,
    In a skirt he is short.
    When he´s naked he´s colder,
    When he´s mental he´s cold.

    In a short dude is shorter,
    In a skirt dude is short.
    Naked dude can be colder,
    Mental dude can be cold.
    

Blankenb

    On every house in a row
    In short lines on a beach
    I would dump like a crow,
    Like a crow I would screech.

    If I was like a bird,
    Flying high in the rain,
    I would как on the Влаамс,
    In a voice too humane. 
    I would shout:

    Кря, кря, кря 
    Крю, крю, крю
    От медок, каберня, 
    Ба медок, каберню.

    Каберню на мерло,
    Из шираза гран крю,
    Борделю, бордело
    Кря, кря, кря, крю, крю, крю 

    Хря, хря, хря
    Хрю, хрю, хрю
    Подавилась костью, 
    Повалилась земной
    Участной участью.

    Подобрала костю 
    Other crow, other bird
    While I settled in sand
    Like sashimi in dirt.
    

Боб

    Мелю бобы в ручную,
    Каждый боб умеливаю.
    В кучку мучную,
    Боб отметеливаю.

    Мне за это боб,
    Душится и прянит, 
    А я его в лоб,
    Пока не устану.