poems written on the fly

Archive for the ‘seb’ Category

Red

In art, bad haiku, bad poetry, literature, poem, poetry, seb, writing on 12 June 2008 at 11:02 am

The heart is pink
lips are blue
revolutions are lost

red is a liar

EL SEBBO

White

In art, bad haiku, bad poetry, poem, poetry, seb, writing on 10 June 2008 at 9:36 am

White is the easiest metaphor

EL SEBBO

The poet’s consolation

In art, bad haiku, bad poetry, poem, poetry, seb, writing on 5 June 2008 at 6:31 am

A beautiful car
is nothing
compared to
a good conversation

EL SEBBO

Sphinx

In art, bad haiku, bad poetry, literature, poem, poetry, seb, writing on 29 May 2008 at 8:26 am

What we could say
is hidden
behind our words

EL SEBBO

Precaution

In art, literature, poem, poetry, seb on 23 May 2008 at 6:15 am

I am wearing shades
because I am afraid
my eyes might exist

EL SEBBO

Perfection

In art, bad haiku, bad poetry, d. james, literature, poem, poetry, seb on 13 May 2008 at 12:38 pm

sun goes down moon comes up
I hold one in each hand

EL SEBBO

Double lines

In art, bad haiku, bad poetry, literature, seb, writing on 9 May 2008 at 12:30 pm

the apple-tree is blossoming
the songs of the birds again have meaning

EL SEBBO

Periphery

In art, bad haiku, bad poetry, literature, poem, poetry, seb, writing on 7 May 2008 at 2:38 pm

I am writing a poem in my garden
the sun at the periphery of my thoughts

EL SEBBO

Fall

In art, bad haiku, bad poetry, literature, poem, poetry, seb on 1 May 2008 at 9:55 am

When things fall
objects happen

EL SEBBO

The limit of poetry

In bad haiku, bad poetry, literature, poetry, seb on 29 April 2008 at 12:24 pm

rain
depression
poetry
more rain

Overweight champions

In art, bad poetry, overweight champions, poem, poetry, seb on 23 April 2008 at 11:22 am

Their feet shake the ground
and the teeth in our skulls
Their gigantic arms
send dried leaves
whirling around us
Their laughter
booms enigmatic
like deep thunder
Who are they?
Who were they?
Nobody knows
and nobody
really cares
because the first
buds are blooming
and birds are a-singing
and the overweight champions
just become mountains
on the horizon line
very blue
very far away

EL SEBBO

The illusion of Socialism

In bad poetry, literature, overweight champions, poem, poetry, seb on 17 April 2008 at 6:10 am

A government ruled
by well-meaning bourgeois
is still a government
and it is still
ruled
by
bourgeois

EL SEBBO

Anonymous

In poem, poetry, seb, writing on 15 April 2008 at 10:33 am

Courage
is never
anonymous
and neither
is hate
but cowardice
ah
that’s another
story

EL SEBBO

Anniversary (to my father)

In art, birthday poems, seb on 11 April 2008 at 1:30 pm

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

What I remember

In art, bad poetry, breakfast poems, literature, overweight champions, poem, poetry, seb, writing on 7 April 2008 at 4:55 pm

What I remember
are images
The words are gone
and live a life of their own
They never call me nor write
but the images
are still with me
and sometimes
I do wish
they would pay rent

EL SEBBO

Billy the Kid

In art, bad poetry, seb on 3 April 2008 at 11:04 am

Caught at the dusty crossroads
of violence and justice – never
quite a man nor a boy
a question simply lingers:
quién es?

EL SEBBO

American wars (Fill in the blanks)

In bad poetry, birthday poems, poem, poetry, seb, writing on 1 April 2008 at 12:25 pm

A good …… is a dead …..

EL SEBBO

Where does that leave us?

In bad poetry, poetry, seb on 28 March 2008 at 10:45 am

Love is
its own
metaphor

EL SEBBO

Bauhaus

In art, bad poetry, seb on 26 March 2008 at 4:01 pm

Structures
Elements
Shadows
Your naked back
My heart like a keyhole
Wood
Steel
Wool
Footsteps on concrete
Love like a half-lifted curtain
Ich liebe dich
A three-step danse
Red lipstick
Black shoes
Your hand in mine
A cold sun
Sharp walls
Spring is coming
Ah ah
The purpose of art?
Usefulness
my dear
usefulness

EL SEBBO

Blue and white

In art, bad haiku, bad poetry, literature, poem, poetry, seb on 24 March 2008 at 11:12 am

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

Walking through the valley of the rich (Paris – Auteuil/Passy)

In bad haiku, bad poetry, seb on 20 March 2008 at 6:11 pm

Never saw
so much dog shit
in my life

EL SEBBO

Down to the basics

In bad haiku, bad poetry, bad sex and bad breath, poem, poetry, seb on 14 March 2008 at 10:13 am

rain rain rain
then
sun sun sun
then
poem poem poem

EL SEBBO

500 pieces

In bad poetry, poem, poetry, seb on 11 March 2008 at 7:36 am

sometimes
life becomes
a puzzle
but you know
that all the
colored
cardboard
pieces
you hold in your hand
will never be enough
to finish it
Yet
bravely
you set them down
hoping
you can guess
the final image
anyway

EL SEBBO

Mirror, mirror

In art, bad haiku, bad sex and bad breath, birthday poems, breakfast poems, literature, overweight champions, poem, poetry, seb, snuff poems, tarot poems, the queen of england, writing on 8 March 2008 at 3:54 pm

Eros is sore

EL SEBBO

Delicate

In art, bad haiku, bad poetry, bad sex and bad breath, birthday poems, breakfast poems, literature, overweight champions, poem, poetry, seb, snuff poems, tarot poems, the queen of england on 5 March 2008 at 6:51 am

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

There’s no place like home

In art, bad haiku, bad poetry, birthday poems, breakfast poems, literature, overweight champions, poem, poetry, seb, snuff poems, tarot poems on 1 March 2008 at 9:59 am

but we sure wish there was

EL SEBBO

Bad ear (or I should get a medal for doing this)

In art, bad haiku, bad poetry, bad sex and bad breath, birthday poems, literature, overweight champions, poem, poetry, seb, snuff poems, tarot poems, writing on 26 February 2008 at 11:18 am

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

Anniversarery pome (To my partner in crime, DJ Eldon)

In art, bad haiku, bad poetry, bad sex and bad breath, birthday poems, literature, overweight champions, poem, poetry, seb, snuff poems, tarot poems, the queen of england, writing on 23 February 2008 at 7:11 am

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

If not

In art, bad haiku, bad poetry, birthday poems, literature, poem, poetry, seb, snuff poems, tarot poems, the queen of england, writing on 21 February 2008 at 6:33 am

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

Another mystery

In art, bad haiku, bad poetry, bad sex and bad breath, birthday poems, literature, overweight champions, poem, poetry, seb, snuff poems, tarot poems, the queen of england, writing on 19 February 2008 at 11:56 am

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

Deconstruction

In art, bad poetry, bad sex and bad breath, birthday poems, literature, overweight champions, seb on 15 February 2008 at 4:42 pm

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

Em-ba-ra-ssing (To DJ Nic)

In art, bad haiku, bad poetry, bad sex and bad breath, birthday poems, literature, overweight champions, poem, poetry, seb, snuff poems, tarot poems, the queen of england, writing on 13 February 2008 at 10:04 am

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

Imperialism

In art, bad haiku, bad poetry, literature, overweight champions, poem, seb, writing on 11 February 2008 at 12:57 pm

Free
is a
four
letter
word

EL SEBBO

Burn all flags

In art, bad haiku, bad poetry, bad sex and bad breath, birthday poems, literature, overweight champions, poem, poetry, seb, snuff poems, tarot poems, the queen of england, writing on 7 February 2008 at 12:01 pm

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

A view with a room

In art, bad haiku, bad poetry, bad sex and bad breath, birthday poems, literature, overweight champions, poem, poetry, seb, snuff poems, tarot poems, the queen of england, writing on 5 February 2008 at 7:51 am

If I move
two inches
to the left
does reality
remain the same?

EL SEBBO

Peace King

In art, bad poetry, bad sex and bad breath, birthday poems, literature, poem, poetry, seb, tarot poems, the queen of england, writing on 1 February 2008 at 7:22 am

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

Stuck (or why we are poets)

In art, bad haiku, bad poetry, bad sex and bad breath, birthday poems, literature, overweight champions, poem, poetry, seb, snuff poems, tarot poems, the queen of england, writing on 24 January 2008 at 6:51 am

Reality is not what
you make of it
Reality is what
you don’t want it to be

EL SEBBO

Sunrose

In art, bad haiku, bad poetry, bad sex and bad breath, birthday poems, literature, overweight champions, poem, poetry, seb, snuff poems, tarot poems, the queen of england, writing on 19 January 2008 at 8:54 am

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 art, bad haiku, bad poetry, bad sex and bad breath, birthday poems, literature, overweight champions, poem, poetry, seb, snuff poems, tarot poems, the queen of england, writing on 17 January 2008 at 3:10 pm

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

Hangman

In art, bad haiku, bad poetry, bad sex and bad breath, literature, overweight champions, poem, poetry, seb, tarot poems, writing on 15 January 2008 at 8:43 am

Hanging upside down
I finally see the world
how it really is

EL SEBBO

Hermosa corona

In art, bad haiku, bad poetry, bad sex and bad breath, birthday poems, literature, overweight champions, poem, poetry, seb, snuff poems, tarot poems, the queen of england, writing on 11 January 2008 at 1:28 pm

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

Hierophant

In art, bad poetry, birthday poems, literature, overweight champions, poem, poetry, seb, tarot poems, the queen of england, writing on 9 January 2008 at 12:50 pm

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

Dusk

In art, bad haiku, bad poetry, bad sex and bad breath, birthday poems, literature, poem, poetry, seb, snuff poems, the queen of england, writing on 7 January 2008 at 10:19 am

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

Routine

In art, bad haiku, bad poetry, bad sex and bad breath, birthday poems, overweight champions, poem, poetry, seb, snuff poems, the queen of england, writing on 1 January 2008 at 12:18 pm

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.

Temperance

In art, bad haiku, bad poetry, bad sex and bad breath, birthday poems, literature, overweight champions, poem, poetry, seb, snuff poems, tarot poems, the queen of england, writing on 28 December 2007 at 10:00 am

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

Freakshow (To Tristan Tzara)

In art, literature, seb on 26 December 2007 at 3:41 pm

All
by
myself
Watch
me
dance
Watch me
me
sing
watch
me
strangle
myself
Watch
me
laugh
all
by
myself

EL SEBBO

Hell or some other place

In art, bad poetry, bad sex and bad breath, birthday poems, literature, overweight champions, poem, poetry, seb, snuff poems, the queen of england, writing on 22 December 2007 at 10:24 am

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

Strength

In art, bad haiku, bad poetry, bad sex and bad breath, birthday poems, literature, overweight champions, poem, poetry, seb, snuff poems, tarot poems, the queen of england, writing on 20 December 2007 at 9:17 am

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

Fckg stnd (or reality can be read between the lines)

In art, bad haiku, bad poetry, seb on 18 December 2007 at 7:11 am

y kn wht I mn

L SBB

The Hermit

In art, bad haiku, bad poetry, bad sex and bad breath, birthday poems, literature, overweight champions, poem, poetry, seb, snuff poems, tarot poems, the queen of england, writing on 14 December 2007 at 12:11 pm

Those
who fear loneliness
have never been
alone

EL SEBBO

Virtue

In art, bad haiku, bad poetry, bad sex and bad breath, birthday poems, literature, overweight champions, poem, poetry, seb, snuff poems, the queen of england, writing on 12 December 2007 at 11:21 am

‘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

Rad poem

In art, bad haiku, bad poetry, bad sex and bad breath, birthday poems, literature, overweight champions, poem, poetry, seb, snuff poems, the queen of england, writing on 10 December 2007 at 7:22 am

Words
are
yours
to
keep

EL SEBBO

100 mg

In art, bad haiku, bad poetry, bad sex and bad breath, birthday poems, literature, overweight champions, poem, poetry, seb, snuff poems, the queen of england, writing on 6 December 2007 at 8:04 am

reality is still the hardest drug

EL SEBBO

Whatever happened to the heroes?

In art, bad haiku, bad poetry, bad sex and bad breath, literature, overweight champions, poem, seb, snuff poems, the queen of england, writing on 4 December 2007 at 6:53 pm

Yeah!
What happened?

EL SEBBO STRANGLERO

Another fuck poem

In bad haiku, bad poetry, bad sex and bad breath, birthday poems, literature, overweight champions, poem, poetry, seb, snuff poems, the queen of england, writing on 30 November 2007 at 10:24 am

Fuck work
fuck school
fuck power
fuck god
fuck you
fuck me
fuck it

let’s dance

EL SEBBO

If

In art, bad poetry, poem, poetry, seb, snuff poems on 26 November 2007 at 4:53 pm

If poetry wasn’t real
wouldn’t we all be insane?

EL SEBBO

Lost

In art, bad haiku, bad poetry, bad sex and bad breath, birthday poems, literature, overweight champions, poem, poetry, seb, snuff poems, the queen of england, writing on 22 November 2007 at 2:52 pm

Too much to drink last night
Trying to collect thoughts
and finally letting them
collect themselves

Where you’re at

In art, bad haiku, birthday poems, literature, overweight champions, poem, poetry, seb, snuff poems, the queen of england, writing on 20 November 2007 at 8:15 am

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

Read the notice carefully

In art, bad haiku, bad poetry, bad sex and bad breath, birthday poems, literature, overweight champions, poem, poetry, seb, snuff poems, the queen of england on 16 November 2007 at 8:11 am

Poetry is a mind-altering drug
Do not hesitate to overdose

EL SEBBO

Get a job

In art, bad haiku, bad poetry, bad sex and bad breath, birthday poems, literature, overweight champions, poem, poetry, seb, snuff poems, the queen of england on 14 November 2007 at 7:26 am

But I have a job
I am a poet
It’s a very important job

EL SEBBO

Elevation

In art, bad haiku, bad poetry, bad sex and bad breath, birthday poems, literature, overweight champions, poem, poetry, seb, snuff poems, the queen of england, writing on 12 November 2007 at 1:23 pm

A cold morning
I am on the first floor
looking outside
The golden light of the sun
warms absolutely nothing
Beauty at its best

Your birthday (To Sofie)

In art, bad haiku, bad poetry, bad sex and bad breath, literature, overweight champions, poem, poetry, seb, snuff poems, the queen of england, writing on 8 November 2007 at 7:18 am

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

A poem for Mark E. Smith

In art, bad haiku, bad poetry, bad sex and bad breath, literature, overweight champions, poem, poetry, seb, snuff poems, the queen of england, writing on 6 November 2007 at 9:06 am

Hell
is being stuck
in a bar
with a bad singer
singing good poetry

EL SEBBO

For those who don’t need words (the meaning of life)

In art, bad haiku, bad poetry, bad sex and bad breath, literature, overweight champions, poem, poetry, seb, snuff poems, the queen of england, writing on 2 November 2007 at 5:59 pm

RnR

El Sebbo

The title is longer than the poet itself

In art, bad haiku, bad poetry, bad sex and bad breath, literature, overweight champions, poem, poetry, seb, snuff poems, the queen of england, writing on 29 October 2007 at 10:30 am

I measured myself today

EL SEBBO

Yellow Woman

In art, bad haiku, bad poetry, bad sex and bad breath, literature, overweight champions, poem, poetry, seb, snuff poems, the queen of england, writing on 25 October 2007 at 10:03 am

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

Tombstone

In art, bad haiku, bad poetry, bad sex and bad breath, literature, overweight champions, poem, poetry, seb, snuff poems, the queen of england, writing on 23 October 2007 at 8:41 am

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

A beautiful view (or why poems can’t be explained)

In art, bad haiku, bad poetry, bad sex and bad breath, literature, overweight champions, poem, poetry, seb, snuff poems, the queen of england, writing on 19 October 2007 at 6:40 am

I live in that
house that you can’t see
and you live in that
house that you can’t see

EL SEBBO

A very short history of rock and roll (1980s)

In art, bad poetry, bad sex and bad breath, literature, overweight champions, poem, poetry, seb, snuff poems, the queen of england, writing on 17 October 2007 at 6:00 am

It was while
we were listening
to the Residents
that she realized
she wasn’t
in love
with me
anymore

EL SEBBO

Fucking around

In art, bad poetry, bad sex and bad breath, literature, overweight champions, poem, poetry, seb, snuff poems, the queen of england, writing on 15 October 2007 at 6:13 am

Today I told myself
to stop fucking around
but I told myself
I could fuck around
as much I as wanted too
because after all
it is always myself
who has the final
word

EL SEBBO

No ego

In art, bad haiku, bad poetry, literature, poem, poetry, seb, writing on 10 October 2007 at 6:19 am

When I speak
my words
stop belonging
to me
When I speak
I disappear
in musical
air

El Sebbo

Black hole

In art, bad poetry, literature, poem, poetry, seb, writing on 8 October 2007 at 8:48 am

Alcohol
is poetry’s black hole
Things get sucked in
deformed until they disappear
leaving only the outline
of their shadow
in the painful
poetic skies

EL SEBBO

Nordic skies

In art, bad poetry, literature, poem, poetry, seb, writing on 4 October 2007 at 6:28 am

Another beautiful sky
through the kitchen window
I wonder what’s so special
about them nordic skies
Inspiration maybe

EL SEBBO

The amazing power of poetry

In art, bad haiku, bad poetry, literature, poem, poetry, seb, writing on 2 October 2007 at 7:57 am

Sebastien Doubinsky
is a woman

EL SEBBO

What idiots and poets believe

In art, bad poetry, literature, poem, poetry, seb, writing on 28 September 2007 at 1:47 pm

the main difference
between men and women is sex
luck exists
words have a different meaning

EL SEBBO

Strange things you remember (or what poetry can be made of)

In art, bad poetry, literature, poem, poetry, seb, writing on 26 September 2007 at 6:00 am

I remember that
in the summer
of 88
DJ must have had
the smallest room
in New York
closets full of books
and ghosts

Crossbones laughter
in the heat

EL SEBBO

Air Force None

In art, bad haiku, bad poetry, literature, poem, poetry, seb, writing on 24 September 2007 at 6:31 am

757 isn’t a plane
it is a haiku
you uncultured morons

EL BASHO

Brand new poem in cellophane wrap (Never used before!)

In art, bad poetry, literature, poem, poetry, seb, writing on 20 September 2007 at 6:09 am

It goes like this

EL SEBBO

Opiluo – To Jacques Roubaud

In art, bad poetry, literature, poem, poetry, seb, writing on 18 September 2007 at 6:39 am

the poet spoke about
jpnese haiku
it rained outside

EL SEBBO

Sky blues

In art, bad poetry, literature, poem, poetry, seb, writing on 14 September 2007 at 1:41 pm

looking for something in the sky
reflected in my eye in the sky
objects are larger than they appear
in the mirror of your soul
rickety-o
rocket to the moon
my heart slowly suffocates
like a sweet-eyed Laika
oh la-la-la
space conquest is a lonely business
that’s why all poets
are astronauts
doo-da-oh
my eye in the sky
telescope of love
and distant emotions

EL SEBBO

What are friends for

In art, bad poetry, literature, poem, poetry, seb, writing on 12 September 2007 at 6:30 am

This morning
Death knocked at my door
That’s how I realized
my doorbell was broken

EL SEBBO

The Return of the Prodigal Poet

In art, bad poetry, literature, poem, poetry, seb, writing on 10 September 2007 at 6:26 am

 

So I’m back

yackety yack

nearly broke my back

and really need some smack

 

El SEBBO

Blindness

In art, bad poetry, literature, poem, poetry, seb, writing on 29 June 2007 at 5:23 am

Until now
I had always
ragarded darkness
as a friend

EL SEBBO

The Non-haiku

In art, bad poetry, literature, poem, poetry, seb, writing on 27 June 2007 at 8:20 am

No inspiration today
Fuck make up
your own images

EL SEBBO

Urban Evening

In art, bad poetry, literature, poetry, seb, writing on 25 June 2007 at 8:15 am

The chrome sky shimmers lightly
attached to the cars’ antennas
I am walking home
my head full of radio waves

Toussaint-Louverture

In art, bad poetry, literature, poem, poetry, seb, writing on 23 June 2007 at 9:14 am

He will be back
in his uniform
soaking wet
under the great blue ball
of the noon sky
He will be back
with his rusted saber
tarnished epaulettes
and muddy boots
He will back
and his voice
will be like thunder
in the forest
and his smile
will be like sunshine
in the slums
He will be back
with a thousand lwas
standing invisible
on his large shoulders
their hands slightly ruffling
his curled black hair
He will be back
and in his eyes
this world
will be reflected
upside down
at last

LEAVING

In art, bad poetry, literature, poem, poetry, seb, writing on 21 June 2007 at 6:43 am

We will be leaving soon
leaving Paris and its famous streets
famous people famous dogshits
Going on a new adventure
or so we like to think
Leaving to start a new life
if life can ever be new
although it sure can be folded
and carried in your pocket
like an old letter
that you might like
to reread
once in a while

EL SEBBO ON THE GO

A tribute to white noise from the 80s

In art, bad poetry, literature, poem, poetry, seb, writing on 19 June 2007 at 1:10 pm

Summer’s smoggy fist
has grabbed the city
Everything seems gray
It’s impossible to breathe
and sweat turns faces
into masks
It feels exactly like life

EL SEBBO

The morning after the party

In art, bad poetry, literature, poem, poetry, seb, writing on 17 June 2007 at 8:09 am

Empty bottles
Smell of ashes
Wine stains on the floor
Bad breath and a headache
It was a good party

The heart of the matter

In art, bad poetry, literature, poem, poetry, seb, writing on 15 June 2007 at 5:18 am

whenever you’re holding
your own bleeding heart
in your hands
picture yourself
as an Aztec king
shivering on top of a pyramid
as the evening sets in
waiting for rain
and the first colors
of spring

EL SEBBO

V is for their victory

In art, bad poetry, literature, poem, poetry, seb, writing on 13 June 2007 at 2:58 pm

Once again
they’ve won
and we’ve lost
No question there
and no question asked
No bagpipes to come to our rescue
and no way out the slaughter
They spoke well and we stuttered
They had muscles and we wore glasses
Our excuses are worthless
but our bruises are real
and the nurses are laughing at us
and throwing stones
It was a good fight though
and I don’t mind losing
that much
Oh well
I guess
that’s why
I’m an anarchist

EL SEBBO

Invisible

In art, bad poetry, literature, poem, poetry, seb, writing on 11 June 2007 at 6:00 am

Little after little
I am becoming invisible
like a reflection
on a windowpane
or a faint breeze
lifting innocent skirts
It’s not that horrible
It’s not that great either
It just is
Some people call it natural
Others call it unfair
I call it ageing
slowly becoming a ghost
among other ghosts
known or unknown

EL SEBBO

Lightning moves/Kings of the street

In art, bad poetry, literature, poem, poetry, seb, writing on 9 June 2007 at 8:36 am

We are the kings of nothing
but move like lightning
and leave on your eyes
a blinding scar

EL SEBBO

Man on fire

In art, bad poetry, literature, poem, poetry, seb, writing on 7 June 2007 at 4:56 am

A man on fire
runs through
the woods
screaming
and laughing
and the flames
are so beautiful
under the stars
it makes me
want to laugh
and scream
with him

What Gertrude Stein really meant

In art, bad poetry, literature, poem, poetry, seb, writing on 5 June 2007 at 5:24 am

a word is a word is a word

EL SEBBO

10:15 Saturday Night

In art, bad poetry, literature, poem, poetry, seb, writing on 3 June 2007 at 12:02 pm

Went to a party last night
where someone played
old Cure songs
and a lot of good
eighties stuff
Made me think
of my youth
and of those
who crashed and burn
or simply faded away
without ever
saying goodbye
So I waved
to a couple of ghosts
I was the only one to see
and I danced danced danced
like a 43 years old fool

My King

In art, bad poetry, literature, poem, poetry, seb, writing on 1 June 2007 at 4:56 am

My king is made of metal
rusted and cranky he is
like an old car’s wheel

My king is made of cloth
wrinkled and smooth
like an old lady’s cheek

My king is made of bones
white and shiny
like power always is

Shadowcaster

In art, bad poetry, literature, poem, poetry, seb, writing on 30 May 2007 at 5:01 am

It’s the time of the shadowcaster
when the streets are turning blue
and the sky becomes distant
He is frightening because
he can turn friends and lovers
into dark silhouettes
and make beauty transparent
but one should never forget
that he is the only one
who can turn
violence into whispers
and ugliness into mystery

EL SEBBO

The awful truth

In art, bad poetry, literature, poem, poetry, seb, writing on 28 May 2007 at 9:19 am

Some say
that sex
is better
than poetry
That’s wrong
Sex is
much better

EL SEBBO

Perfume and cigarettes

In art, bad poetry, literature, poem, poetry, seb, writing on 26 May 2007 at 5:37 am

There is something I miss
in this healthy world
- the mixed scents
of perfume and cigarettes
giving beautiful women
this half-temptation
half-suicide aura
that reminded us
every day
that each minute
has a shadow

EL SEBBO

Morning poem

In art, bad poetry, literature, poem, poetry, seb, writing on 24 May 2007 at 5:02 am

Another morning
another poem
is this genius
or stupidity?
Like an old king
I decide not to answer
as I stumble out of bed
to make some
hopefully
inspiring coffee

EL SEBBO CANSADO

Greek gods

In art, bad poetry, literature, poem, poetry, seb, writing on 22 May 2007 at 5:17 am

To Seferis, Elytis, Ritsos, Cavafy, etc…

Greek poetry
is probably
the best in the world
just like the beer
commercial says
It is blue
like a spotless sky
crushing the shoulders
and elevating the soul
like the turning
of the head
and the possibility
of a smile
It is white
like the bones
in my hand
or the proud
stones left behind
by forgotten
architects
Yes
the best poets
in the world
but it is normal
After all
these people
invented
ruins

EL SEBBO

What will happen tomorrow?

In art, bad poetry, literature, poem, poetry, seb, writing on 20 May 2007 at 8:52 am

What will happen tomorrow
when the rain comes
and thunderbolts strike
at random?
Will I open my window
and applaud
or will I crawl
underneath my bed
praying to a God
who doesn’t believe
in me?
Will I run outside
laughing and singing
or sit in my room
shaking my head
and saying
“I told you so”?
Will I buy an umbrella
and walk alone in
the shiny streets
or will invite you in
and make a large
pot of coffee
so we can
chat about summer
and the passing
of the clouds?

EL SEBBO

Why Miller, Cendrars and Durrell are my friends

In art, bad poetry, literature, poem, poetry, seb, writing on 18 May 2007 at 4:58 am

Because they are great writers
because they were friends
because they are always a great inspiration
because they agree to everything I say
because they like what I write
because they don’t take up much space
because they are dead

EL SEBBO

Why poetry isn’t easy for us men (or “Tsvetaieva vs Brodsky”)

In art, bad poetry, literature, poem, poetry, seb, writing on 16 May 2007 at 5:09 am

The best poets
are always
women
and children
Women use words
to resist
and exist
in this
closed and unfair
world
Children
are natural
poets
gathering words
and images
like a colorful
jigsaw puzzle
But for us
men
ah
things
are different
because
the words
we use
were given
not taken
and the images
forged
not gently tamed
and like kings
on a tacky throne
we believe
in everything
we say
although
our words
simply roll
at our feet
like the tiny
plastic pearls
of a broken
necklace

LA SEBBA

One French Haiku

In art, bad poetry, literature, poem, poetry, seb, writing on 14 May 2007 at 5:34 am

Nothing inspires me today
This is France
after all

LE SEBBO

Night has

In art, bad poetry, literature, poem, poetry, seb, writing on 12 May 2007 at 6:23 am

To Zamiatin and a few other courageous souls

Night has fallen upon us
impeccably blue
with a few artificial stars
bringing promises
of warmer winds
and colder days
A night
everybody should love
and why not?
It seems so perfect
Protective
Absolute
Strong
Merciless
Yes night has fallen upon us
but we still have a lighter
and a couple of cigarettes
to keep us warm while
we are waiting for
our frailties to be
publicly mocked
and justly punished
under the hard blue sky

EL SEBBO

A question to the weatherman

In art, literature, poem, poetry, seb, writing on 10 May 2007 at 5:11 am

Why is it
we can’t predict
the weather
five days
ahead
and we can predict
the apocalypse
ten years from now?

EL SEBBO SKEPTICO

A cheap thought

In art, bad poetry, literature, poem, poetry, seb, writing on 8 May 2007 at 8:29 am

If we knew
where we
were going
would we
go there?

EL SEBBO

Poetry is for losers

In art, bad poetry, literature, poem, poetry, seb, writing on 6 May 2007 at 9:00 am

I went to a poetry reading
the other night
and of course
I drank too much
smoked too much
and when I went
to the bathroom
I saw the silvery handle
vibrate a million miles
too fast
and I thought
fuck
what is this
poetry thing
coming to?

EL SEBBO

Objects in mirror are vainer then they appear

In art, literature, poem, poetry, seb, writing on 2 May 2007 at 5:01 am

Poetry
isn’t about
beauty
Poetry
is about
things
that no one
thought
beautiful
before
That’s why
poets should
never use
mirrors
except
to reflect
the sun
in some
idiot’s eyes

EL SEBBO

Why I worked as a bouncer

In art, literature, poem, poetry, seb, writing on 30 April 2007 at 5:21 am

Most poets
are against violence
because
most poets
are whimps

EL SEBBO MACHO

Art lyrique

In art, literature, poem, poetry, seb, writing on 28 April 2007 at 6:10 am

The poet is always right
The poet is always wrong
Both assessments are true
now get your ass in gear

EL SEBBO

Broken spring

In art, literature, poem, poetry, seb, writing on 26 April 2007 at 5:08 am

Spring is back
It’s warm
Dog shit smells
Flowers whither
The city sneers
Spring is back
and my back is broken
I guess
it’s midlife crisis
setting in
or just
the seasons
turning wrong
Ah well
Spring ain’t
what it used to be
and neither am I
thank god
for us both

EL SEBBO SWEATO

Fire

In art, literature, poem, poetry, seb, writing on 24 April 2007 at 5:18 am

Sunday
was election day
On my way to vote
I saw a homeless man
build a fire
on the pavement
The flames raged
high and yellow
under the cold
morning sky
I wonder
if it wasn’t
an omen

Terror Sutra (or why do we always realize too late that it’s too late?)

In art, literature, poem, poetry, seb, writing on 22 April 2007 at 6:25 am

To Richard Fariña

Monkey-Demon Monkey-Demon
where are you?
Here I am Here I am
right behind you

EL SEBBO PSYCHEDELICO

A lyrical moment

In art, literature, poem, poetry, seb, writing on 20 April 2007 at 6:46 pm

Poetry can happen
at the strangest
of times
This morning
as I was brushing my teeth
I suddenly thought
of this poem

EL SEBBO

Home

In art, literature, poem, poetry, seb, writing on 18 April 2007 at 11:58 am

We are
in the back
of a taxi
zooming
towards the city
and its
shiny smog
Why do we call
home
something
that isn’t
and is
definitely
trying
to kill us?

Is it
because
we are stupid
or perhaps
because
we have
no other
or simply
because
we need
to call
something
home?

EL SEBBO BACK IN FRANCE

Dawn

In art, literature, poem, poetry, seb, writing on 16 April 2007 at 4:57 am

I am awakened
by the beautiful song
of the birds in the garden

It is four in the morning
Fucking birds

EL SEBBO

Denmark is like America in the Sixties

In art, literature, poem, poetry, seb, writing on 14 April 2007 at 6:32 am

Life here
is like America
in the sixties
with money
cars
beautiful girls
happy children
and tons of flags

A perfect vintage
advertisement
without blacks
Vietnam
drugs
and rock’n’roll

I wonder
if they’re
not
missing
something

EL SEBBO

AARHUS

In art, literature, poem, poetry, seb, writing on 12 April 2007 at 7:54 am

Walking through the beautiful
green cemetery
overlooking the harbour

I put my steps
into the steps
of my own ghost

It is blue today
and slightly cloudy

EL SEBBO

The awful truth

In art, literature, poem, poetry, seb, writing on 10 April 2007 at 7:44 am

Today
I am leaving
for Denmark
I am taking the bus
It will be
a 19 hours
trip
I am 43
years old
I am not
a crazy
beatnik
poet
I
am
broke

EL SEBBO

News

In art, literature, poem, poetry, seb, writing on 8 April 2007 at 4:34 am

I am wondering
what this homeless man
is reading in the newspaper
Is he trying to keep up
with the insanity of this world
or is he finding reason
through his own insanity?
Or is he simply
reading the newspaper
trying to remember
how it was when
the world was normal
and strangely
missing
the pain?

EL SEBBO

The Siren

In art, literature, poem, poetry, seb, writing on 6 April 2007 at 5:17 am

In the subway this morning
a woman sang so beautifully
it almost made me happy
to go to work

Music can be dangerous
sometimes

EL ULYSSO

Empirism

In art, literature, poem, poetry, seb, writing on 4 April 2007 at 1:11 pm

One God
One people
Hell on earth

EL SEBBO

Lao Tzu said

In art, literature, poem, poetry, seb, writing on 2 April 2007 at 6:23 am

Like life
TV is
a random poem
full of ads
and beautiful people
Like life
TV
is a wonderful
world of colors
in which
the actors
do not remotely
look like you
and even if
you can
switch it off
it will carry on
without you
So aim your complaints
at life, not TV

EL SEBBO TELEVISUAL

When we smoked

In art, literature, poem, poetry, seb, writing on 31 March 2007 at 6:06 am

When we smoked
life was much easier
We had beautiful cars
with supersonic fins
and lipstick red tail-lights
We had flat-roofed houses
with swimming pools
of impeccable blue
and custom-designed wives
that hummed jazz tunes
as they fixed our ties
We drank bright colored cocktails
and wore steam-pressed clothes
watching with a distant eye
the ghettos burn in Panavision
Yes life was easier then

We were already dead
but we didn’t care

EL SEBBO

Things you learn as you grow up

In art, literature, poem, poetry, seb, writing on 29 March 2007 at 5:05 am

A poem a day
keeps the women away

EL SEBBO

Daddy’s big day out

In art, literature, poem, poetry, seb, writing on 27 March 2007 at 5:45 am

Went to the book fair
drank with my friends
smoked some
then drank again
Didn’t go home
Didn’t eat dinner
but went straight
to see more friends
play some rock’n'roll
in a club downtown
Finally went home
sweated some
shook some
puked some
and crashed in bed

Awesome

EL SEBBO VIEJO

And who the fuck are you?

In art, literature, poem, poetry, seb, writing on 25 March 2007 at 9:39 am

I
am
the
poet
and
who
the fuck
are
you?

EL SEBBO

I protest

In art, literature, poem, poetry, seb, writing on 23 March 2007 at 6:02 am

Some things
can happen
for a reason
but
I proclaim
that
death
never does

EL SEBBO L13-WC

Just a thought

In art, literature, poem, poetry, seb, writing on 21 March 2007 at 5:55 am

How come
you can always
remember where
you have bought
your clothes
but not
the exact features
of those you loved
when they were still alive?

EL SEBBO

A one, a two

In art, d. james, literature, poem, poetry, seb, writing on 19 March 2007 at 6:36 am

Some people say
that silence
is the poet’s best companion
dividing the invisible
and stressing the thought
Like a familiar
it rests on the shoulder
or makes you coffee
when you come home
Yes they say silence
is the poet’s best friend
wife or mother

Personally I prefer music

EL SEBBO MUSICAL

Bath time

In art, d. james, literature, poem, poetry, seb, writing on 15 March 2007 at 6:20 am

Watching
my son and my daughter
laugh and splash
in the bathtub
I suddenly realize
that to love
is to accept
mortality

EL SEBBO

There is no glue for a poem

In art, literature, poem, poetry, seb, writing on 13 March 2007 at 6:36 am

This haiku
broke
like a cup

EL SEBBO

Cheap Valentine

In art, literature, poem, poetry, seb, writing on 11 March 2007 at 10:37 am

My love
take this flower
especially written for you

It doesn’t need water
and it will never lose its petals

you can give it any color you want
fragrance thorns anything

and if I should die before you
you can choose to burn it
erase it crumple it

or simply put in on
your refrigerator door
under a heart-shaped magnet

EL SEBBO ROMANTICO

Looking for things in the sky

In art, literature, poem, poetry, seb, writing on 9 March 2007 at 11:12 am

“Daddy, look!”
My son points
at the thin white stripe
of an airplane
plowing the sky
and I tell myself
that for him
this is only
the beginning
of long years
of wondering
what blue
really means

EL SEBBO

Tips not included

In art, literature, poem, poetry, seb, writing on 7 March 2007 at 6:24 am

In this restaurant
no one ever leaves the table
The glasses are always half-full
and the food randomly prepared
Everyone’s a waiter
yet everyone is served
This restaurant never closes
and nobody can remember
when it first opened

No one knows if it’s heaven
or if it’s hell
but it certainly is
the center
of every conversation

EL SEBBO

A love poem

In literature, poem, poetry, seb, writing on 5 March 2007 at 6:16 am

To Sofie

My wife wants me to write
a poem about her
but how can I
when she
herself
is the poem?

EL SEBBO

Old friends

In literature, poem, poetry, seb, writing on 3 March 2007 at 7:21 am

To Nicolas Richard

I am drinking and smoking and talking
with an old friend in his old apartment
His kids are sleeping while the music
crashes silently on the floor
This is a good evening
I can see myself reflected
very small
in the neighbour’s window

EL SEBBO

In my kingdom

In literature, poem, poetry, seb, writing on 1 March 2007 at 7:23 am

Sitting on my throne
I am waiting for glory

My crown is in my pocket
and my scepter in in my bag

My queen is ready
and my children
are restless

Sitting on my throne
I am waiting for glory

Will it ring?
Will it knock?
Will it destroy my door?

My heart is throbbing
my veins are weak
my eyes are sore
and my hands are trembling

Sitting on my throne
I am waiting for glory

and I don’t even know its name

Babel

In literature, poem, poetry, seb on 27 February 2007 at 1:59 pm

In my street
I can hear 27 different languages
and I don’t understand
a single word
of any of them

It’s exactly like
living in a poem

EL SEBBO

3:23 AM

In art, literature, poem, poetry, seb, writing on 25 February 2007 at 9:38 am

When in bed
I turn my back
to my wife
my kids
everything
and I stare
into the void
until I feel
vulnerable
confused
abandoned

Then

I know
that in my life
I have made
all
the right choices

EL SEBBO

Home blues

In art, poem, poetry, seb on 23 February 2007 at 9:38 am

Surrounded by laughing children
I watch a distant TV
while my mother
cooks a familiar meal

Nothing here is unknown to me
yet many questions remain
such as the weather tomorrow
and why are our bones so white

EL SEBBO

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