Fecal Matter

Man is a grain of sand
inside the palm of the hand
on the valley of time

Hundreds and hundreds of years
are hidden in the future
Poetic language will not be understood
and much less read

The human element will not see
the soul bleed and
when it suffers,
it won’t understand
sadness,
tears or
melancholy

Men will distance himself
of his hunting instincts
and will depend on the coldness
of machinery for survival

Each atom will become a being
every molecule will have a first and last name
and flies will teach mankind
how to find provisions
in fecal matter

DIRKWOJTCZACK

Raking clouds in autumn before
the first winter steps engage the snow fall.
In anticipation of the final turn,
the call is made
to the stream and undercurrent waters
to rest beneath the tiles of leaves.

The north polarizes the thin layer
of warmth as the butterfly surrenders
its wings to the unknown battle,
heeded by moths and flying knives.

Long ago, stood tall, the bravado
and faux posturing,
fifty one jokers and one ace,
against the formidable elements of reason
and logic, into a painted cornea,
disguising itself rather than being captured
and imprinting the surface of the mirror.

Never to touch
or walk behind the sun.
Quibble in the context to interpret
the meaning of a smiling face
as the tears cascade down
into an open envelope
with no sender or recipient address.

Matter matters not to itself,
value values less to the self,
fear fears not the night,
but the man who has four shadows
when only one light is shun
in his direction.


DirkWojtczack
The Winter of Autumn

Raking clouds in autumn before
the first winter steps engage the snow fall.
In anticipation of the final turn,
the call is made
to the stream and undercurrent waters
to rest beneath the tiles of leaves.

The north polarizes the thin layer
of warmth as the butterfly surrenders
its wings to the unknown battle,
heeded by moths and flying knives.

Long ago, stood tall, the bravado
and faux posturing,
fifty one jokers and one ace,
against the formidable elements of reason
and logic, into a painted cornea,
disguising itself rather than being captured
and imprinting the surface of the mirror.

Never to touch
or walk behind the sun.
Quibble in the context to interpret
the meaning of a smiling face
as the tears cascade down
into an open envelope
with no sender or recipient address.

Matter matters not to itself,
value values less to the self,
fear fears not the night,
but the man who has four shadows
when only one light is shun
in his direction.

DirkWojtczack
The Winter of Autumn

Remnants of a livid affair descend
into the inaudible whisper of the dawn.
Stir the wind trapped between the grains
of sand, dried sea and tumble weed.

Impending arrangements dissolved and
placed back on the wooden book shelf.
Time is silent outside the clock,
but the growth and decay endears
the skin to prolong the stay of execution.

Life is evident with each breath
and the blank sate from a fly's eye.
Wings without emotion betray the lifting
force to embarrass the eagle's pride.

A light without a ray is what
a sound without a wave is to
the truth without reason and
for eyes in the heart to believe in faith.

Despair nourishes the hunger found
in the spine of an open flame.
Trembles feed the cold hands
to leap over a heap of scorching stomachs.

The Winter of Autumn
DirkWojtczack

Que descanse en paz.........




http://sauce.pntic.mec.es/~jmul0008/iespmt/maximo_trueba.htm

Mi sentido pesame a la familia
Max ha dejado su sello en esta vida
y el arte siempre tendra su huella.
Que descanse en paz, hoy y siempre.
I am sorry.

Countryforsale

thewelldefinedformulaforfailure
thewelldefinedformulaforsuccess
thewelldefinedformulaformyopia
thewelldefinedrouteforfailure
thewellilldefinedwhitehousejunta
thewellilldefinedinterestgroups
thegetwellofffriendsofdickandbush
thetimetospeakloudisnowornever
thetimetoimpeachincompetence
thetimetoimpeachthefatcats
thetimetoreducegovernment
thetimetoenrichtheyouthisnow
thetimetostartalloverisripe
thetimeisnothingwithtiedhands

Febrero 15, 2006

¿Quién le extrañara usté Señor operador
de computadoras y aparatos electrónicos
cuando caiga la tremenda bomba sobre todos?

Acaso cree que los mendigos, hambrientos
y pordioseros del alma vendrán por ti?
Si su ejemplar del NYTIMES se le pone amarillo,
tome su café caro de Starbucks,
hágase a un lado si le estorba la inconveniencia.

No seas cojudo, apaga el maldito aparato,
quitate la pistola de la boca,
aparta los ojos del sexo
y pide auxilio,
pide la salvación eterna
y verdadera.

Si las manos y rodillas
de la tierra tiemblan,
agarrate del rosario y
reza con lágrimas de sangre.

Puddles of clouds fill the hollow vault
Jovial Jupiter skips the hopscotch board
A band of spectral colors stretch across the line
Sound of blank stares fidget with charcoal sticks

Paper is sprawled, stranding invertebrate letters
Twigs of sun light stacked on a table deck
Silver earring fall off the moon's lobe
Words rattle the cages of grammatical structure

Blue veins curled up on fishhooks for bait
The essence of waiting is wasting time
Recover sleep inside empty jacket pockets
Choke the pen at its hip to bleed words

Read into the past what the future holds
Live dreams in life before they expire
Suspend anxiety with a clothespin to dry up
Nothing is ours and everything too


DirkWojtczack
The Winter of Autumn

Morning Deliveries

A star planet during a routine morning,
making the delivery of meteor news
misguided it's aim and broke
the bathroom glazed window

The meteor smashed the steamed mirror,
as the earth finished taking a shower
and drying up with a valley grass covered towel

The meteor, window and mirror were shattered
in smithereens. The earth couldn't brush
its hair rays with the tree branch and no mirror

The mirror had to grant seven years
of bad luck. However, the meteor grants
any wish made by those who follow
its trajectory into oblivion

The sun was in a rush to light up
the morning cover and didn't have time
to quibble with curses and wishes

The earth decided to deal with the star planet,
who made the morning delivery and get
him to pay for the damages and inconveniences

The meteor pleaded that he was just passing
through and had no intention of sticking
around for any prolonged discussion

While the argument lasted the entire day,
in the evening the earth still couldn't brush
it's teeth without looking at the broken mirror

The sun left both the earth and the meteor
that evening. Everything was dark during
the night passage.

It didn't matter, tomorrow, the star planet
would make another delivery and the
headlines will change anyway

From unpublished Winter of Autumn

DirkWojtczack

I axidentally shot a democrat

I axidentally shot a democrat,
not blind or stoopid,
not 1'o Dick's engry liberalls,
you kinded coopid,
wait on a man in overalls.

When I shoot, I shoot
like a man with a shotgun
not flowers of a yungman
blaster, holler, don't loot.

What am I supposed 2 do,
tell da adman about it,
oops and sorry, see 2 sue,
disperse and shout it.

Take this grin
2 the face of a imam,
wit 4 wit, twit is it,
fight mad man, you dam.

Do I have cynic time
2 gow hunt more quail,
where all the picnic mice
and men head duck email?

Wiretap Yourselph

Turn the NSA mikes onto yo' selph,
keep'em close in DC,
hound the pockets and the shelves
there are stacks o' dough you see.

I ain't got no friend in W
or the braying donkeys
listen to the senate and lobby-ass
money here, money you sees.

There ain't bigger weakening force
than corruption in the halls of power,
there ain't bigger show of farce
than the current demise all over.

More spending to force the peace,
farm out jobs for cheaper labor,
all mighty world bully police,
can't you wire a dime or a favor?

What Maureen Dowd would write if she was me

Well, el Junior Comandante should take time off,
after all, he has attention deficit disorder,
that is, for those who read "Whatever for Dummies",
lack of attention to the bulging deficit now in the trillions -
not trillions of liras, but greenbacks from El Gringo Uncle Sam.

Much comfortable after the first four years
after the judge said to El Junior Jefe,
the kingdom and the reign is yours,
do onto others as you please, please.

There is no secret that judges
deal with the law to impart justice
or to anoint burglars with keeps -
never there's a case of good versus good,
Or is there?

A burglar by virtue of his ability
knows how to con a con. Ask Jim Frey.
A burglar knows to keep security (not social)
with phantoms and listening toys.

Hocus focus, pay attention,
Machiavellian distractions -
send the boys over there,
build a bridge to Alaska too.

Jackson Heights Scenes


The day looks gloomy outside
as if it is going to rain hard
and I keep thinking about sunny and lazy days,
but something calls me to the neighborhood

In the streets of Jackson Heights
there are scenaries that constantly change:
vendors pushing carts with ethnic food
others selling pirated cassettes and cd's
and phony clothing with false labels

The train above drowns the drama
it's high hell on pounding steel
there are no words to be heard
only the screeching sound of the rails

Gypsy cabs cruising for fares
gays walking from bar to bar
and into the unisex salons

Fruit stands with green platains
I thought I heard a rooster
in this congested place,
maybe from the yard behind the building
where drunks stench the alley with their vomit

Young Latin girls walking by
I look and wonder what it would be like
to have her in the crib
if only for a quickie

Latino boys wear their soccer shirts
ready to play in the fields of Flushing
by riding their mountain bikes
through the congested Roosevelt Avenue

Flower pots hanging by the window sills
Young dark skin prostitutes
in low light rooms with rotating doors
wait for anyone except the man in blue

Money flows into travel agencies
to send over to beloved ones
far away from this surreal place
I will be free if I slave away for some years

Loud salsa music blaring from a Toyota
It has tinted windows and chrome wheels
easy for the driving
ready to pick up girls in skirts

COPYRIGHT
DIRKWOJTCZACK

New York 1990


Dirt riddled empty sidewalks
concrete passages into darkness arrives
crowded streets lumping human garbage
automated machinery circulates green paperbacks

Beggars gather to scare vultures
immigrant accent ancient language ritual
repeat offenders stand in line to repeat
synchronized pulsation pumping flesh for fifty

Preferential parking alloted to mischiefs
armor tanks ignore tricolor stationary lights
broken beer bottles sketches young punk's turf
circulating in bands to terrorize merchants

Blood stains regulate activity into normality
hand weapons polished conventional animosity
political environment appraises votes for comfort
judicial confirmation an affirmation of indifference

Sacred values traded for scarred immediate needs
drug pushers glamorize its usage
freudian sexual gratification shadows its purpose
toll booth collectors parking meter coin operator
scalping money filled wallets into safes
New York City's rotten apple core aborts
benign intentions into absolute immoral degradation



COPYRIGHT
DIRKWOJTCZACK

Adverse Advice



It is always silly thing to give advice, but to give good
advice is absolutely fatal. I hope you will never fall into
that error. If you do, you will be sorry for it - Oscar Wilde



Adverse advice
to be cool and nice
drink Jack Daniels heavily
smoke Camels daily

Crack a crude joke
push for heart stroke
go hail a yellow taxi
inhale gas from refinery

Slip an unmarked envelope
get a whore and elope
beat up all your friends
jump in front of #7 train

Splash crud on your face
monkey see human race
indulge in frivolous chatter
scourge love on a platter

Nibble, dribble on a teat
Don’t restrain to self manipulate
Scraggy, greasy fried chicken
projectile public erection

Thrust your pelvis back and forth
burn the flag on July fourth
Assist with environmental pollution
sink a barge in the protected ocean

COPYRIGHT MATERIAL

Regent Park, London


The lights in Regent Park
were on before the sunset arrived
I walked on the short grass,
playing with ideas

I remembered a kiss
that I stole
under the arches
of the portal of your lips

As time passed on
I began to realize
that there is nothing
that brings me
back to you

I don't deny
that we gave ourselves
relentlessly,
passionately and
with animal fury

But, you didn't see
that when I said
'I love you'
I had crossed my fingers
and I had already known
that there is nothing
that brings me
back to you
back to this place
you call home
in London town.

COPYRIGHT:Dirk Wojtczack

Note: This poem is long and it's not about abortion.


First Modern Act
Women, daughters, girls: Don't use their last name

I never thought I would say this, much less that I would write about it.
I've spent a lot of time perturbed by how much women
have to endure being manipulated by machos.
(I will not call them men on purpose).
The macho from an early age
listens to his carnal desires,
to his animal instincts,
of saying whatever it takes
to lay a women in bed.
He will tell her that he loves her forever,
that he would die without her,
he promises flower beds and trips to the moon
and all the earth's treasures.

Women, daughters, girls,
I want to tell you:
Be enamored,
love,
kiss,
and if in the trance
of the courtship or betrayal
a child is engendered,
listen very carefully:
the macho will leave you,
no question or doubt at all.
Let the child be born,
in spite of the battles to follow,
never look back for a moment.

More than anything,
Never give that child
the macho's last name,
never, ever.
Don't honor, mention
or pay tribute to his absence.
Give that child yours,
so that this child
may never doubt from who
he learned to survive.
Give the child your last name
to break the cycle
of inheriting the coward's stain.
Give the child your last name
to eliminate any uncertainty
of his bond to
the mother.
Give the child your last name
so that the world can
honor your sacrifice.
And though society
may not get accustomed,
with the passage of time
it will understand the reasons
for these actions.

But I reiterate,
never give that child
a last name that is not yours.

Copyright Material
Reo Del Cigarrillo
February 27, 2004



--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Primera Acta Moderna
Mujeres, hijas, niñas: No le des su apellido

Nunca pensé que lo diría, mucho menos que lo escribiría.
Llevo mucho tiempo perturbado por lo que las mujeres
tienen que sufrir por la manipulación del macho.
(No los llamo hombres a propósito).
El macho desde muy temprana edad
se deja llevar por sus deseos carnales,
sus deseos de animal,
de decir lo que sea con tal de llevarse
a una mujer a la cama.
Le dice que la quiere para siempre,
que sin ella se muriera,
le promete viajes a la luna
y todos los tesoros de la tierra.

Mujeres, hijas, niñas,
les quiero decir:
enamórese,
amen,
besen,
y sí en el trance
del cortejo o del engaño
una criatura se engendra,
escucha bien claro:
el macho te dejará,
no hay cuestión o duda alguna.
Deja que esa criatura nazca,
a pesar de lo duro que será la lucha,
nunca mires atrás por un momento.

Más que nada,
No le des a esa criatura
el apellido del macho,
nunca, jamás.
No le des honor, mención
o tributo al ausente.
Dale el tuyo,
para que así la criatura
nunca tenga duda de quién
aprendió a sobrevivir.
Dale tu apellido
para romper con el ciclo
de heredar la mancha del cobarde.
Dale tu apellido
para que no exista
ninguna duda de su afinidad
a la madre.
Dale tu apellido
para que el mundo
honre tu sacrificio.
Y aunque la sociedad
no se acostumbre,
con el transcurso del tiempo
entenderá las razones
de estas acciones.

Pero reitero,
nunca le des
otro apellido que no sea el tuyo.


Derechos Del Autor:
Reo Del Cigarrillo
Febrero 27, 2004