The heart is pink
lips are blue
revolutions are lost
red is a liar
EL SEBBO
The heart is pink
lips are blue
revolutions are lost
red is a liar
EL SEBBO
White is the easiest metaphor
EL SEBBO
If writing poetry
is like pissing against the wind
remember that the wind
often changes direction
EL SEBBO
A beautiful car
is nothing
compared to
a good conversation
EL SEBBO
if my words were colored
like heads and then hands
then sometimes they could be
red machine or red lips
but mostly red silence
EL SEBBO
What we could say
is hidden
behind our words
EL SEBBO
sun goes down moon comes up
I hold one in each hand
EL SEBBO
the apple-tree is blossoming
the songs of the birds again have meaning
EL SEBBO
I am writing a poem in my garden
the sun at the periphery of my thoughts
EL SEBBO
When things fall
objects happen
EL SEBBO
rain
depression
poetry
more rain
No
matter
where
you
are
Poetry
is
always
at
the
center
of
the
horizon
EL SEBBO
White roofs
blue sky
the children play
in the bedroom
my fingers
silently
write this poem:
“it is cold outside
it is colder
inside my mouth”
EL SEBBO
Never saw
so much dog shit
in my life
EL SEBBO
rain rain rain
then
sun sun sun
then
poem poem poem
EL SEBBO
Eros is sore
EL SEBBO
Delicate
isn’t my name
and yet I am moved
by the imbecile
gently led by his father
down the street
while screaming songs
at the top of his head
I am moved
by a white cloud
standing still
over the city
like a gentle threat
I am moved
by your breath
gently lifting the sheets
deep in the night
when I can’t sleep
Yes delicate things
move me deeply
and confirm
the rage hidden
at the core of my words
The rage of impotence,
hope and rebellion
- but not despair
Despair, you see,
is too delicate
for me
EL SEBBO
but we sure wish there was
EL SEBBO
My ear is shot
Haven’t slept in two days
and here I am writing
this miserable poem
Is it friendship pushing me
or just poetry’s bad junk
shaking me up and down
and never letting me be?
EL SEBBO
no candles
but fireworks
no explosions
but roman candles
we have written pomes
for one good year now
we are very tired
but our mouths are still
full of spit, tongue, stones
and words
no firecrackers
but live ammo
no funeral pyres
but a feather
of the Phoenix
EL SEBBO
poems
are
free
like a bank robbery
a good fist fight
or a major break up
I said
poems
are
free
I didn’t say
they were nice
EL SEBBO
The white veil of morning
creeps around the house
The birds are black notes
and their song hang frozen
in mid-air
We drink coffee in the kitchen
and I want to tell you something
but your words erase mine
and I forget what I wanted to say
and there is no way you can help me
and we laugh it off and another mouth
replaces my mouth with different words
forming behind the seemingly same teeth
although they are actually a few seconds
older
EL SEBBO
Went to a party last Saturday
and all evening I wondered
if my fly was open because
the zipper was broken or because
I was too stoned to zip it up
Time to quit?
Hell no
EL SEBBO
Bank
is a
four
letter
word
(D. James)
Free
is a
four
letter
word
EL SEBBO
The blue of the sky
crashes through my open window
and a few birds sing
to welcome the first rays
of the sun
Everything is still
except for the millions
of radio waves
spinning around us
like in invisible killer bees
and I say
to the wall
my chair my desk
the open window
the blue sky
the birds and their songs
“Burn all flags”
as flags frame you
in what you are not
and never will be
- a model citizen
a model father
a model nation
a model nature
a model bird
a model sky
a model model
Yes
burn all flags
especially
the white one
EL SEBBO
If I move
two inches
to the left
does reality
remain the same?
EL SEBBO
It’s a foggy day
can’t see more than my hands
maybe it’s a good thing
maybe it ain’t
but at least in this freezing weather
I’ve only one way to go
yippie-yay-oh
EL SEBBO
Reality is not what
you make of it
Reality is what
you don’t want it to be
EL SEBBO
The sun rose today
but I missed it
my eyes still blinded
by night and punctuated by stars
The sun rose today
and I didn’t
preferring to ignore
the glorious colors
to the monochrome black
The sun rose today
and I didn’t care
as I embraced
a lovely shadow
slightly smelling
of cinnamon
EL SEBBO
A clap of thunder
in a clear blue sky
or the strange reflection
of something not quite there
are our daily mysteries
so sit down
have a coffee
read the paper
and finally
accept yourself
as the ultimate mystery
goddammit
EL SEBBO
Hanging upside down
I finally see the world
how it really is
EL SEBBO
Hermosa corona
shining high above the clouds
just out of reach of my wanting fingers
Hermosa corona
beautiful face wrapped
in silk and gold
you could be a vision
but your materiality
drags me down
Hermosa corona
if only you could
be a poem
a word an image
and disappear
as soon as
you were pronounced
Hermosa corona
I wish I could could
hold you in my hands
but they are tied
behind my back
and praying won’t help
Hermosa corona
your indifference
is truth
your glitter
wisdom
and your power
death
Hermosa corona
I run in circles
after myself
please let me
have you
please
please
EL SEBBO CORONADO
It is the time
when windows
are becoming walls
and children voices
are elongating
in the gardens
It is the time
when somethíng rattles
inside your chest
and you wonder
if death will come
and teach you
how to dance
It is the time
when you evaluate
all the things
you have said
and you realize
they can be summarized
in a single word
It is the time
when the sky darkens
and becomes this impossible blue
you have tried for so long
to imitate in your soul
to no avail
It is the time
when finally
failures
turn to gold
EL SEBBO
The words
disappear like smoke
but the lungs
are intact
EL SEBBO
Q: Why can we always feel when something bad is going to happen but never something good?
A: Because there are more bad things than good things happening to us.
Q: Why are there more bad things than good things happening to us?
A: Because we are cursed.
Q: Why are we cursed?
A: Because we are free.
Q: Is freedom a good thing or a bad thing?
A: It is a very good thing. That’s why we can’t feel anything.
EL SEBBO.
Drink
as much as you can
Speak
as much as you can
and in the outer limits
of your words
will you finally
be yourself
EL SEBBO
Like love
strength
is a potentiality
the coiled steel spring
the flexed muscle
the fluttering of an eyelash
a laughter
gas in the tank
like love
strength
is
somewhere
between
you
and yourself
a shadow
as faithful
as shadows
can be
EL SEBBO
y kn wht I mn
L SBB
Those
who fear loneliness
have never been
alone
EL SEBBO
‘s like quicksilver rolling in the palm of your hand
a strong card with many colors
a woman who can stare you down
a poem you thought long forgotten
‘s like a spot of darkness in the middle of light
a sword in a merciful hand
a shameless kiss on the mouth
something you miss but you don’t know why
something you miss but you don’t know why
EL SEBBO
Words
are
yours
to
keep
EL SEBBO
reality is still the hardest drug
EL SEBBO
Yeah!
What happened?
EL SEBBO STRANGLERO
Fuck work
fuck school
fuck power
fuck god
fuck you
fuck me
fuck it
let’s dance
EL SEBBO
The things you do
need no explanation
because words
stop where the action
begins
EL SEBBO
Too much to drink last night
Trying to collect thoughts
and finally letting them
collect themselves
The stars indicate no direction
and the roadsigns are all
rusty and torn
and I don’t even know
if I’m anywhere on the map
crumpled in the back pocket
of your jeans
EL SEBBO
Poetry is a mind-altering drug
Do not hesitate to overdose
EL SEBBO
But I have a job
I am a poet
It’s a very important job
EL SEBBO
A cold morning
I am on the first floor
looking outside
The golden light of the sun
warms absolutely nothing
Beauty at its best
Days go by like birthday candles
but the cake never goes stale
a cheap metaphor for happiness
I guess but words and images
do betray us sometimes
and maybe, maybe
that’s why we love them
EL SEBBO
Hell
is being stuck
in a bar
with a bad singer
singing good poetry
EL SEBBO
RnR
El Sebbo
I measured myself today
EL SEBBO
The writer speaks
The yellow woman asks questions
nobody understands
The writer answers politely
The yellow woman smiles
Outside words are pressing
their faces to the window
wondering
EL SEBBO
To DJ Eldon
This is the place where
old cowboys meet
with torn leather boots
and a toothless mouth
full of tobacco
Backs hurt
Whiskey burns
Memories flare up
A sign flaps in the wind
but you can’t read it
as it stands on the opposite
side of yer heart
EL SEBBO
I live in that
house that you can’t see
and you live in that
house that you can’t see
EL SEBBO
When I speak
my words
stop belonging
to me
When I speak
I disappear
in musical
air
El Sebbo
Sebastien Doubinsky
is a woman
EL SEBBO
757 isn’t a plane
it is a haiku
you uncultured morons
EL BASHO