hello little lump
hello little lump
​   









 



I rode a mare that went astray 
Through the ash fields of Pompeii:
To seek the holy grail,
 
Unaware it was a flail
With metal spikes and poison veins
That led to war all gods and saints!
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
I can see that you were lucky!
I could barely ride myself…
 
I limped throughout my coughing
Stopping only when to sneeze.
I would have had my whole time laughing
If not begging life to cease…
 
 
 
You both wasted your lives
Fighting wars that were in vain!
I used my time to meet
Every blessed by beauty dame.
 
Sophie was the best,
Even though it was incest.
 
And I would endure it all
To return inside my Carol…
 
 
 
 
 
 
Silence now your throat!
How dare you speak this way?
You’re in the house of God!
Behave, Behave, Behave!
 
 
 
 
 
Easy now, good priest,
You shouldn’t be so harsh.
You promised me the lash:
Every bloody cruel beast;
Yet here we solemn stand,
You and I in the same leash.
 
 
I stand nowhere near you,
You light fingered creep!
You’ll soon be burning high
In some cavern lost and deep!
 
 
 
 
 
Can I light on the flames?
Can I conduct the torture?
Can I present eternal pain
To all the ones that falter?
 
Can I erase all hopes?
Make their inmost sacred dream
The moment when I go to change
The tool on which they’ll bleed?
 
 
 
 
 
Fellow humans, fellow souls,
Brothers in conscious life,
I couldn’t help, although I tried,
To brood upon your cries.
 
It seems to me we’re dead,
Yet we seem so much alive.
I couldn’t help, although I tried,
To wonder how I died.
 
I raised the sails
And begged for wind,
To He who held
The godly flint,
But the ship that seeks
The sea of memories
Mingled with the mist…
 
 
This pains me!
I that knew
From the stars
To the pygmy shrew:
Knew their names
And how they’d die.
Knew all this
To wonder why
I got to lose my blue loved sky…
 
 
It’s not your sky and naught you knew.
 
What are names you can not call?
 
And dates of things you can’t recall?
 
Tell me, boy so sweet and true,
What’s the worth of all you knew?
 
​   
After many silent ages
Of nothing said or done
At last the dead land echoed
With a rough but steady voice.
It was a restless soul
That slowly went insane:
The confession of a life,
That fought for life,
To simply die in vain:



 
 

 
 
He faints,
This half God
(God by his own hands)
But his spark like wail 
Its birth womb withstands.
This shaking of the spirit on
These things that were so still,
Led to an existential yawning
And the complaint of the ill:
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
Slowly chuckling like a jester
Howled the one that died too young:
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

The ones that never lived,
Like the ever wrinkled priest,
Tired maybe of themselves
Ceased to be deceased:
 
 
 
 

Ohh, softly as a feather
The thief caressed his throat,
For after near forever
He could sing an aching note:
 
 
 
 
 
 

 
The priest enraged proceeded:
 
  
 

 
Hate and anger thrived
So suddenly again.
Craving for this feelings
Came the one that fed on them:
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
The wise man looked concerned
(He was wise for he was quiet)
And breaking his own rules
Hushed a while his mental fire:
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

 
He closed his eyes
And closed his fist.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
This words from a grey beard flew,
 
His legs shook as deemed to fall,
 
His hands seemed afraid of all,
 ​  
a world of spiders and toys
a world of spiders and toys
cookie monster
cookie monster
why
why
a party
a party
soothing
soothing
set upon a hill
set upon a hill
a fine day
a fine day
kharon
kharon
poem
poem
one toast
one toast
margaret
margaret
god of misery
god of misery
softly dying
softly dying
strawberry gardens
strawberry gardens
feel your dreams
feel your dreams
I drank wine
With the knowledge of the world.
Stood creator where time doesn’t dwell,
Creating from the ashes of the laws that fell.

I have been a primal God,
Following the warmth that lurks in the depths
Of that which isn’t me, nor another.

Looked deep into my own eyes,
Caressed my hand, which was my father’s.
Raised, owner of the one true brush,
Holding my delicate heart, to tender or crush.

Rushed, back and forward,
And yet I stood still,
As an omnipresent wisdom rock
Falling and climbing a hill.

I understood and owned
Kissing what I stoned
And suffusing through my throat
The raw and bitter blood of the fooled.

Then I spitted it back, because I could
And followed it, into the warmth.

There I mazed it
And amazed it all.
There I was a crystal drop
Neither low or tall.

Yes, there, only there,
In the precise place of nowhere,
Where tales are forged and art is leaked.