ITS ONLY A RARE GAG, Sitting on my pigeon drinking blue water- When I found you! Your eyes are mine, Your tits are Squaw-Valley. When you ask me 'bout the kids- I don't mind... Renaissance of love? A dream occurs to me - it's naturally a dream of yellow beagles. Of course... You ought to be x-rayed, woman, But me - C'est l'assesination d'un rêveur.... ...The telephone rings: It's still that damned queer staring at me out of his captive balloon! For once in a second I turned my mind - But I ought to be back to remind you. What the hell's with your eyes? What happened to your tits? Why don't you love me! I realise what you're doing with me! You only want my honey, baby, You only want to press me into a plum. Remember - I hate plum-cakes! Your eyes are hungry mouthes... Your tits are blood-staring daggers! When you ask me 'bout the kids - I see my future running away. Renaissance of love? Ah, forget it!
All other previous poems (including A Winter's song for Susan, Modern DADA, ReVoLuTiOn, She's longing for your R'n'R, Ich möcht so gern wie Bogey sein, November Rain, Kleine Tode 1-3, Once upon a time - there was a country called germany, The creamy guitar, l’homme qui rit, valse triste et retombante, Roman Lullaby already published in
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gedichte & gedanken
1978 - 1995
1. Tausend 1996