Ten years ago
you left us
under a cloudy sky
and the cold wind
was warmer than our bones
Well, today
the sky is pretty much
the same
except for the clouds
which are a little bit
whiter
but I guess
that’s just a trick
my memory
is playing on me
EL SEBBO
A good …… is a dead …..
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
My children play
with wooden blocks
red blue yellow
and green
They build towers
and smash them
laughing
like typical
humans
A reassuring thought
somehow
The blocks
await in the sunlight
waiting to be
piled up
and thrown down again
like typical
humans
Not a reassuring thought
somehow
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
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
I am the peace king
and I come without banner nor flag
My arms are broken
and my friends have fallen
Will you welcome me
with arrows and fire
or kisses and tears?
I am the peace king
and I have no purpose
but to prove that existence
is nothing but choice
whether you win or not
I am the peace king
and my face is as white
as your rage
I am the peace king
and I am sorry
that I hurt you once
and for all
I am the peace king
and you can very well
chose to ignore me
if you wish
as I will not fight with you
I am the peace king
and I am never wrong
although many wish me to be
because peace
is always
more threatening
than bloodshed
I am the peace king
hail me at my passage
or throw me stones
I love flowers
and stones are my friends
but beware
my visits are scarce
and often go
unnoticed
as I am clear as the wind
dark as a starless night
and fluttering as love promises
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
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
The re is no mystery
in an open hand
but as we walk
our teeth grow back
into our gums
and our bones
shatter like ice
We try to laugh it off
but a howling wind
comes out of our lungs
and specks of our blood
decorate the sky’s blue cupola
There is no mystery
in an open hand
but the closed fist
hanging over our heads
is following us
like the shadow of something
we knew or thought we knew
EL SEBBO
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
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
This is another place
my friend
and we are becoming meat
The ships have sailed
and the planes have left
their esoteric signs
of the sky’s blue wall
We didn’t ask to come
and no one invited us
but we are here
and it’s definitely not there
This is another place
my friend
and we are becoming meat
Some of us are hungry
and some of us are sad
I am lucky to be loved
You are lucky to be blind
The poker tables are full
and smoking is allowed
This is another place
my friend
and we are becoming meat
Don’t thank me for our journey
It wasn’t the one that planned
There is a toast stuck in the toaster
and the flames are raging high
You left your coffee untouched
and outside the sun is nodding
Everything is familiar
yet none of it is mine
This is another place
my friend
and we are becoming meat
I guess we could say goodbye
or greet each other in tears
there are many wars out there
their fumes obscuring our lungs
I guess I should say I’m sorry
but I have yet to learn these words
This is another place
my friend
and we are becoming meat
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
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
Fuck work
fuck school
fuck power
fuck god
fuck you
fuck me
fuck it
let’s dance
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
