those who say I have nothing to read when called somewhere abroad, are totally wrong

.
DIFFERENT TYPES OF CHILDREN

Carl and Carla
are children of the corn.
Paul and Paula
are children of the porn.


THREE-MINUTE-POEM 1

I’m a poet.
I have a spleen.
Eyes are yellow,
shit is green.

Sun is shining
in the night.
In my ass is
a holy light.


THREE-MINUTE-POEM 2

I dont’ have
a shiny car.
I will never
be a star.

My whole life
is an endless pit.
And my poems
look like shit.


SLIM MARY

I love ‘em all –
blondes, brunettes.
She wants to fall
and that she gets.

This Mary too
is slim and nice.
And in the night
we do it twice.


SLIM MARY AND HER LAMB

and this Mary had a lamb
all time must be fed
at the time when we made love
it baa’ed next to bed

after when we reached to end
I had a secret wish –
to turn this damned animal
into delicious dish


RIDGE ON THE BRIDGE

last night Ridge
on the bridge
find the switch
wich turns witch
into bitch


ABOUT MYSELF AND MY POETRY

I'm very beautiful,
beautiful and sleazy.
Writing poetry in English,
this is very easy.


IF I WAS A MILLIONAIRE

If I was a millionaire,
I flew thru the atmosphere,
where the stars are shining bright,
where’s no left and where’s no right.


DRUNKEN NUNS

in the sacred candlelight
drunken nuns had angry fight
without any clothes at all
and the cries went thru the wall

in this sacred candlelight
I felt pants to be so tight
“Take ‘em off! You get no ban!
It is years since we got man!”


DUREMAR AND LEECH

“Please don’t kill this leech, mother!
We really love each other!”
so yelled Duremar in sorrow.

“You should like the ass and breasts
of the girls. We’ll do some tests
by the doctor right tomorrow!”


DUMPING

“Who the hell left to my tent
stinky pile of excrement?”

“It was me,” Susanna then
said to me like evil hen.

“What I’ve ever done to you?” –
“This is how I say we’re thru.”

*

Want to read ‘bout dumping more?
Be my guest! And then – let’s score!


OUR FINAL SOLUTION

Oh my god what have we done!
Spent all million bucks for fun –
whiskey, beer and dirty whores!

Now we, only thieves and drunks,
once were poets, now are punks,
have to rob the bank, of course.


GIRL FROM SUPERBAND

If I only had that girl
from this famous superband
(only music’s crappy),

I would madly jump and whirl,
normally wouldn’t long time stand –
I would be so happy!


STORYTELLER

I’m in love with storyteller,
but she doesn’t know.
Once I loved a whory teller –
‘til she said me no.


TV

I’m loving sheepdog Rex
from the TV.
I’m loving triple-X
from the TV.

I’m loving Superman
from the TV.
I’m loving all I can
from the TV.


LOST MIND

I have truly lost my mind,
writing poems every kind,
without knowing, without sense,
what is article or tense.


MADNESS WITHOUT END

I won’t ever stop, oh yes,
poetry will ease the stress,
‘til I get no girls or cash,
I let splendid rhymes to flash.


MY GIRL 1

While my girl was crying,
stickin’ head to pillow,
I was outside trying
be as highest willow.


MY GIRL 2

While my girl was beating
everything with shiver,
I was outside eating
good things from the river.


MY GIRL 3

While my girl was sleeping,
seeing dreams like thriller,
I was outside keeping
far away the miller.


MY GIRL 4

While my girl was having
sex with her pyjamas,
tundsin: see on häving,
kõik kui põrmus lamas.


MY GIRL 5

While my girl was talking
dirty to her nipples,
I was outside walking
toward golden apples.


MY GIRL 6

While my girl was laying
on the painted parrots,
I was outside playing
Hitler with the carrots.


A SONNET

When the moon is touching me with its gentle beam
and the shiny ice will let kindly me to skate,
then the sadness is behind, mercy shows the fate,
merrily I bathe and swim in this golden stream.

When the night is crawling in, I will see that dream,
which is coming always then, never needs to wait.
It will take me to the stars, beautiful and great,
and the owls next to me are not what they seem.

Now I'm sitting on my bed, laptop on the desk,
writing silly poem, which doesn't mean quite much,
looking for the English words, which give more grotesque.

Where are dreams and fantasies, fairy's magic touch?
All the bed is full of crumbs, oh, just look at it!
I must stop the rhyming and clean a little bit.