PUstaka puJAngga

Looking for Charles Bukowski in K Rd

shit & death is everywhere
except around K Rd
retro paradise of alcoholic angels
& prophets of semen redemption

its skyline has the colour of Timothy Leary’s rainbow
guarded by clean-shaven Dunhill-smoking Tae Bo-practising Herculeses
carefully assessing the initiates to the temples of Zeus

the gods come down from the heavens
every holy Friday night to K Rd
& t-shirt-wearing gymnast-mortals
dance for them the sacred dance
of the ecstatic whirling dervishes
160 km/hour
obladi oblada life goes on, yeah…

Friday is the holiest night of the week
the most blessed
& nobody talks of shit & death
on this perfumed communion of alcohol & semen
obladi oblada oh lala…

let us go to K Rd then, you & I
while the evening is still spread out against the Sky Tower
like a Holy Virgin intoxicated upon a bar table

*-Charles Bukowski is a dead American poet. One of his stories was
made into a famous movie called Barfly.
-K Rd is the red-light-cum-nightclub-district of New Zealand’s biggest
metropolis Auckland.
-The Sky Tower is its late postmodern respond to Las Vegas casino’s
challenge & the highest building around the South Pole

The Love Song of Saut Speedy Gonzales

love is a Burmese cat running across the road & was shot at
by APEC leaders’ security members

love is the tampon that you mistook for a Chinese herbal tea-bag

love is red & fiery like a member of a Communist party

love is never boring except in a Hollywood movie

love is in the air & like a fart it is always interesting & smelly

love is a full course of Jacques Derrida, Michel Foucault with
a sprinkle of Alfred Hitchcock

love is used to be blind & childish & very Greek

love is now multicultural & global with English as its medium
of expression

love is real like a cruise missile launched from an American
USS-Imperialism

love is sexy & lovely like a multicoloured used condom recycled
to the Third World countries

love is an Indonesian clove cigarette you smoke during a Mozart concert

love is high culture like a backpacker running out of toilet paper
in the jungle of Indonesia

love is never vegetarian & not going to be one either

love is alcoholic & full of nicotine

love is poisonous & very very addictive

are you ready for love?

http://sautsitumorang.blogspot.com/

Filed under: Poetry, PUstaka puJAngga