90

 

who are you?
fruity, fruity smell?
i’m flesh hungry

all the slime in the world
is nothing compared

to your boyfriend
to your boyfriend
i send fruit

to widen anal cavity
fuck him up on calvary

who are you?
hot spilling ginger tea
blue cup

everywhere
everywhere
paraphernalia dogs in bag
blue black ink

in my petrol wand
my petrol weapon
writing ecstasies

who are you?
ninja, ninja on the western wall

hidden in plain moonlight
in plain rice ok?
ok

#99tespus #irvingpaulpereira

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89

89

hand of detergent
spoiled by food
cold milk moments

a madre with less pain in her old eyes

a surge
due to unrest
welling up of fatigue

flash of unhappiness
breakdown in seconds
lasting only seconds

then coordination
the blind and the bold
organised chaos

this phase is too new
this ageing
this hosting

there’s a difference, noticed
due to medicine and confusion

it is over
faster than how it began
apologies

now, there is a square table
there’s quiet night

#99tespus #irvingpaulpereira

88

88

lines on my head
demarcate
a door
a window

inside:
a malibu dream
two species of tobacco
vanilla

elsewhere
the watch dives deep
into earthen tomb light

a chain binds one to right hands of power

soup base of heart
a laughter from a face

so close
a wet mind leaking slowly through nose

quivering of an unused organ
tired of old imaginings

a bit of blood
smiles in my soup bowl

we long for sleep
the sleep of the just

#99tespus #irvingpaulpereira

87

87

NTUC was losing her mind
playing chinese Christmas music

traditional instruments tinkling like a psychotic soundtrack
hypnotising consumers

they wander down aisles, trolleys full of mandarin oranges

snacks in their smaller intestines intensifying
full of oxygen

frantic
over the number of pieces of fried tofu

frantic because the steamboat won’t work
power point down

crackers
then
jell-o
infidels
red packets
just wear red

the jokers in the playing pack will be hidden

the watchers leave the purple room domain with NTUC

#99tespus #irvingpaulpereira

86

dear octo’r infects everything like a mushroom
or cloud

badly drawn bears in funny looking tee
on shirts

bad dustbin figures
melting in some nuclear coloured hat

stickertoons trampled at the feet of revealing office wear

starless and impotent
brain, beige washed
by fucking tv

that just won’t work
that won’t just play
epicide

dear octo’r infects everything like a viral
on cctv

our especial place
our epistle place
the purple room

extended through these days to the gate of dog

#irvingpaulpereira #99tespus

85

85

into aesthetic road block
confer the gun
and beetle

swarming through the padi fields of octo’r
unaccounted for

debris, as cereal ad command node
texting, texting. texting

voice returning favour as altruism
or otherwise a perpendicular

into the hut
bravado
into the ocean
deep scale

mount us as ellipsis
or the cosmonaut
or clairvoyant

nevermind
auditions
talon made, struck like a back bird

bards surround us
oh weeping songs
they play trumpets

finally
we are called
into oblivion
dancing
always shuttered

#99tespus #irvingpaulpereira

84

84

a military man brings us to the restoration place

via detour
the street of whores and disappearing food

over the chosen one
who was buried under bridge

I recall
sweating the days in line for salvation

i recall tension and alchemy and apology and kneeling

I quietly study the ribs of a dying god

a man with holes in hands
heals the leopards

a ghost
moves through roof and the sunlit star

a holy serpent moves
through the legs of Madre

#99tespus #irvingpaulpereira

 

 

83

83

Horses in the twin of
dark
dear octo’r

wanders head
full of futile semen
and sea women

half of them with clean shaven dogs
wet bitches

Octo’r secretly dreams of impossible winters
flowers in ice

he touches the lamb of god and it sleeps

he touches the hand of Lilith and is saved

Octo’r dreams of a man
writing him poem letters

‘this is how you make a god’, he says

 

dear octo’r
dear octo’r
blue faced and semi automatic

#99tespus #irvingpaulpereira

 

 

82

82

squandering love of words
like fake fried cuttle fish

tossed into the privilege saucepan of panoramic inquisitions
fail

garbage in,
garbage become organs,
organs become garbage being

mouth open and the flies come out
fly open

and the maggots appear without airs or disclaimer suits

by the venom tongue you live
black cold snake

by the shocked eye you die
dead cold soba

excavation sites in my heart
awaits concrete of youness

aerial dome of my heart
awaits your migratory pattern

#99tespus #irvingpaulpereira

81

81

Rhodio and the gauntlet or
climate of angel fish

“I know of seaweed
of remains in treasure chests”

they fester in sediment till they become sunk ships

returning to primal beds
deep to dream
and decompress

Sir jacket
Ma’am bag
heads in ziplock
pussy cat

Rhodio
abyss walking in lava dark
bouncing like spaceman

he opens treasure chests
pieces of dress
floating away

ships sink
but histories of her men
sink deeper

slowly forming mud continents
lurking in great black seas

#99tespus #irvingpaulpereira