Pome

Roses are red
Violets are blue
Some poems rhyme
This one doesn't.

Boom - drumbeat

BOOM

DRUMBEAT
there everything lies FLAT
0__________o
again rage violins cellos basses brass triangle
drums KETTLEDRUMS
rage run rage run rage RUN
rage run rage run rage RUN
STOP !
drama in full struggle whores snakes rush upon honest
men the family stagger the factory staggers
the honour staggers lies down
all concepts FALL
HALT!

-- Paul Van Ostaijen

Hi

MARC GREETS THINGS IN THE MORNING

Hi boy with the bike on the vase on the bloom
                             ploom ploom
hi chair by the table
hi bread on the table
hi fisher-of-fish with the pipe
   and
hi fisher-of -fish with cap
 cap and pipe
of the fisher-of-fish


H i i i —i fish
hi little fish
hi tiny fishy-fine of mine

--- Paul Van Ostaijen

buź

I can smoke chimneys
drink acid
spit blood
lick salt stones

But I refuse to become cynical
when it comes to love.

love's banks

Taking distance and leave is the horny metaphysics
Of men who keep their love hot and moist
In a far-off spot, and so cook their days.
Leaving, slamming doors, is the pure zealotry
Of women who have swallowed their lovers
And make their swelling bodies into sheer religion.

I know those two, they are alone, but for each other.
They have time, the same one, but on grounds that differ
Like that banks of that one widespread stream.
In that water they lie abysmally reflected
Viewing the passing, passing the view.
And not a soul who knows what has got into them both.

--- Leonard Nolens (via)

cold children

I pull the cork out of your neck
your heart seethes to your head
opaquely comparable
to the cross
that feeds but not learns
Are you sitting on a pillow
or do you feel the ground
of your fallen brothers
with their rusty swords
and rotten ideals

The fierce struggle gave birth
to indifference...