25 bucks Blues (new)

[serge gurkski]

don't- ,-) listen:

I left the bank robbed, just like everyone else. Nothing new.

Just because one Cyprus bank fucked off, did not mean, banks
had lost the battle to the common mind. No way. ;-)

From my lover's twenty-five bucks he with an
expected cold smile substracted ten percent
because of all the sweat he had put into typing
4 ciphers into the calculator.

I left with prices having suddenly risen overnight,
adjusted my strategies accordingly -
what else can a poor boy do? -
but
adjust

i still
got my bottle of
fat rum

But now at home i
do wonder
if sugar cane should really

be charged so highly
knowing
the farmers
won't see my
monetary input-

My plan being
taking a plane
and share with them
face to face

and leave the assholes out.

I think
they and me
had enough of them already.

So, smoothly I sailed (illegally) home
in my hometown … ;-

to be continued

---

the next part is a bit too froggy for you anlosaxish, anyway. ,-)
(can't spare you that)

Once coy wildermess we
run out off and away from
icicleness of the day we
snuggle up to auto-poisonesed
handmade dreameries, by-
products of overly improductive
citizens of the state you're in,

and you tell me where
we are going, as if

you or anyone but none knew
where we going, striking at.

Are you sure anymore?
Then surprise me of maybe this:

Glimpse me!


From out of the warmth I call,
bellow, shout cries of shaking life,
you can tell it is the rum now but
anyway it is sincere, no?

We are so supposed as to assume
getting the rea thing being treated a replic
but used to that we take it for what
it is not. Feasting on it it as if
as if it was real. We lose nothing yet.

No fake gods have been laid to waste yet.
Unless we tell?

Priceless. Look into the word.

But frankly i miss mirrors.