I don’t even know your name

how many hotel rooms
must you walk through
on lonely nights

with unknown
painted faces

before you see yourself
for who you are
realize what you’re doing
won’t solve a thing

how many lies
can you tell
before even you
stop believing

how hard
do you want
to make this life
before you let go
and begin to live

how many
sleepless hours
how many
unanswered phone calls
how many
broken promises

how many
how many
how many

before you close your eyes
and finally call it a night?

(D. James)

myths

traded as fact
they lurk
in broad daylight

often dispelled
by opposing
falsehoods

nothing more
than something
someone was once
ridiculed for believing

then repeated
repeated
repeated
so much
no one asks
where it came from

we just live
like it’s the truth

(D. James)

the dog at the end of the tunnel

yellow toothed dog
stares through
blood-shot eyes
in my nightmare

drooling
I know he
wants me
for his last meal

I’ve run from him
for hours now
maybe even days

in the end
he’ll have his way
because that dog
keeps me honest
because that dog
is me

his hot breath
rank with death

the only escape
is to wake
but either I can’t
or I already have

I’ll know in a minute
as he approaches
and I am too weak
to move

One way or the other
it ends here

(D. James)

undecided

I saw you standing
on the edge of a shadow

in the space where
sunlight and darkness meet
in the endless battle
of night and day

waiting
for something
in yourself
to appear

but the struggle
was too great
and you remain
undecided

(D. James)

nightrider

The half-moon laughs
as we tear up the road
screaming at the night

With nothing but chrome
and black gloss
we ride ’til dawn

Our piece of heaven
forged in hell
hanging with the
fallen angels

And when the sun rises
we’ll put another night
to rest

(D. James)

Delicate

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

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

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)

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

Another mystery

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

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)

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

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