Five Principles of Existence

I Having the Hamlet’s skull Placed on your shoulders Don’t pretend To renounce whatever There will be a time To collect stones But not To make love Nor in a stupefied dream ‘Cause the Skull Can see II When shooting At the Hamlet’s skull Don’t press a weapon So much beloved Too close against your cheek ‘Cause the One who hates you Lives in it And seeing the weakness Of your spirit He will send you redemption In the image Of a lonely wolf Playing on the football ground With the Skull And it doesn’t protest ‘Cause it’s happy III When wiping sweat From the Hamlet’s skull’s forehead Look closely At those furrows of Doubt Not immediately perceptible Somewhere there is a path To a stream Which first taught you The truth of besieged souls And mean people Who march Pretend it doesn’t concern them Make for a temple Dress in jewellery Sleep like newly born turtles Calmly and light ‘Cause the Skull devours All the spare Heavens All the true Prophecies IV For the duration of Clichéd Existence Don’t detach yourself from the Skull Remember dimensions Forget villainies ‘Cause in Hell The Skull burns not Sweet sorrows of Paradise Knows not Lies where all of us Used to Where we all paid our dues To random tenderness And turned our backs On our semen And turned our eyes To lightning and thunder Since where lightning falls Civilizations emerge Where thunder growls Opens the Abyss With valleys in turmoil Of ants and devices Clerks and virgins Obsolete penises ‘Cause the Skull judges not Quietly traverses the vanishing lines On the begging palm Plots not Dreams not Of the surging graves ‘Cause it is improper V And finally When bragging about talents Knowledge, orgasms A new prey bleeding In the young jingling teeth Beware: All these Are unearthly deeds Of the Skull That everything stems from It Both the Theatre chuckle Raising a hero up on a fork And beautiful scenery With the only Cut off vein Expiring meekly Both a poppy Growing next To the vomiting factory And a drop Sliding from the throat Over a nipple And on Into the raging wound Of true sex Don’t just regret Scattering wheat In between these letters ‘Cause the Soldier and the Traitor And the Lover Are all here to bloom To wake you up at midday With a glass of wine And some bread And an egg with salt Dress you up comb you Carry you out And into cremated fields And leave you there With the only Birth In the whole World Squeezed in an iron fist To hear each scream of Hers Each of Her confessions And then Retell it Through the hollow gaps Of the Skull Written October 5th, 2001 © on Oct 05 2001 04:27 AM PST   0 • 13