disposable poetry » the queen of england

Mirror, mirror

sdoubinsky — Sat, 08 Mar 2008 15:54:11 +0000

Eros is sore

EL SEBBO

Delicate

sdoubinsky — Wed, 05 Mar 2008 06:51:37 +0000

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

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

sdoubinsky — Sat, 23 Feb 2008 07:11:29 +0000

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

sdoubinsky — Thu, 21 Feb 2008 06:33:10 +0000

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

sdoubinsky — Tue, 19 Feb 2008 11:56:09 +0000

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

Em-ba-ra-ssing (To DJ Nic)

sdoubinsky — Wed, 13 Feb 2008 10:04:28 +0000

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

Burn all flags

sdoubinsky — Thu, 07 Feb 2008 12:01:10 +0000

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

sdoubinsky — Tue, 05 Feb 2008 07:51:34 +0000

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

EL SEBBO

Peace King

sdoubinsky — Fri, 01 Feb 2008 07:22:55 +0000

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)

sdoubinsky — Thu, 24 Jan 2008 06:51:21 +0000

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

EL SEBBO