Wednesday, May 03, 2006

The language of petroleum

"How can you say this is not my mouth?
I have fallen in love with my own cranium,
And now every time I shake my rosy tongue
Difficult words fall off in unspecific clusters,
Untidily separated by upturned commas.
Hoarding stolen words in the hollows of my cheeks
Simply doesn’t make sense anymore.
They make my eyes bulge and my spit
Taste like foreign tea thrown in the harbor.
I need short and easy words,
Words that will stick to my gums. Sharp words;
This is how I will make love to my pretty skull."


Blogger MGL said...

Vor tid har slidt sig selv tynd.
Man kan se gennem den
dens slidte tøj, dens svage
blålige hjerte
dens tynde knogler
Den er blevet håbløst forelsket
i sit eget skelet.

8:55 am  
Blogger surly fag said...

who are you quoting? as my femme fatale lecturer says, if you don't state your sources you will risk losing full marks for your work.

5:49 am  
Blogger Mikkel said...

It's aaaaaaaaaaaaall me. I felt it was time I wrote some crappy modernist poetry.

10:14 pm  
Blogger Mikkel said...

So what I did was wait till I was really tired and then I applied my revolutionary make-it-up-as-I-go-along-technique.

I am a world class faker.

11:59 pm  

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