ANAGRAM (103)

I cannot eliminate my self from myself.

ANAGRAM (102)

“impossible”
i’m possible

ANAGRAM (101)

The only universal truth I know
Is Coca Cola

ANAGRAM (100)

There is no refuge, only camps.

ANAGRAM (99)

A camp
Like a cramp
And tens of thousands of tramp-like refugees
Camped in the end of a dead-end

Hundreds of thousands of vomiting mouths
Over a tiny table
Where the main course is deportation

The road is only one-way
For a baby born in refugee camp
A bomb with no name

ANAGRAM (98)

Obvious
Like unopened envelopes
Tomorrow contains only
Bills of yesterday.
What are we paying for?

ANAGRAM (97)

Living in a world
Where nothing comes out of suicide but death
What do you expect me to sell?

Dying in a world
Where all life brings is death
What do you want me to buy?

Don’t cry
It’s your tears
Your weakness
Your naïve sweetness
—what you call moderation—
That makes me sick in my stomach

Wipe you tear and look:
All you can sell is your life
For a very low price
And all you can buy is your death
For even a cheaper price

ANAGRAM (96)

The word “freedom” in your mouth
Sound like “positive”
In the ears of an HIV-infected, dying man.

ANAGRAM (95)

Burning a body for a reason
Burning reason for nobody:
The only possible answer
To all impossible questions

ANAGRAMS (94)

Like a naked transvestites
Future is standing in middle of a city
In a dream
Where all traffic lights are dead
Red on the spot.

ANAGRAMS (93)

Where would wind blow
If leaves wouldn't fly?
What would love be like
If women wouldn't cry?

ANAGRAM (92)

I am thy foe
Canst thou see?
I am thou.

ANAGRAM (91)

I live in a memorial park
Amongst happiest people of the world:
Depressed suicidal rich capitalists,
Left-wing junkies,
Hardcore Christian pedophiles,
Aborted mothers and pregnant infants,
Dealers and warriors
Impossibilities and barriers
Yes, we’re miserably the happiest!

ANAGRAM (90)

I’m three days behind myself:
One day, because of me
One day, because of you
And the third is due
To the fact that future is retarded

ANAGRAM (89)

Leaves of a lonely tree
Deported to the previous season
Paint the picture pale

Wind holds its breath
When crimes are green

ANAGRAM (88)

I’m from whatever country you hate
My name is
Anything you can remember
My motive is
What you have forgotten
My agenda is you, motherfucker!

ANAGRAM (87)

To be loved
Like a bank account
Overdrawn kisses
And an empty heart

ANAGRAMS (86)

I’d never know the text
I’m just the pretext

ANAGRAMS (82)

My moth is your grave

ANAGRAMS (70)

Three times tree
And me
Three times why

My eye-leaves
Leave
My roots
Rot
My log
Logs out
And whys tree in doubt.

ANAGRAMS (81)

Fists of death
Your eyes cloud
Kisses of words and swords
Desiccated lips of the crowd
Wrapped in their banner
Blood-stained shroud
Blindness gawks
Peace is too loud

Out there in the street, behind my window, a headless child sets fire on pages of an illustrated fairy tale. He howls; I panic. And when I want to scream I realize flames have washed away my mouth.

ANAGRAMS (80)

You sob on my shoulder
My shirt turns blue
And I have a hard-on
It's hard
I cannot go on
So hard
Hard-heartedly
With my shirt
Softly sodden by color of your eyes.

ANAGRAMS (79)

Nothing
That’s what it is all about
Day after day
Night after night
You still think I exist
Denying all denials
With a cleaver in your cold hand
Slicing my nightmares to
Years
Months
Weeks
Days
Hours
Minutes
Seconds...
Ha,
You think you exist?

ANAGRAMS (78)

I was a vegetarian
Now am a humanitarian
I was gay before
Now I’m gonna fuck your wife.

ANAGRAMS (77)

We retrieve
Our shadows
Are queer
Shade of fear
Rambling near
We live
Shades of shadow
Shadows of fear
We leave
Shadowless
Queer
For shaded sphere

ANAGRAMS (76)

Not yet born
Buried in a womb
Dreaming of dying dreaming
A corpse
Deported to a wrong grave
In a wrong country
Where all dreams are aborted
And all graves deported

Not even quite born yet

ANAGRAMS (75)

I was born
Men died
When I died
Death cried
As a crying baby
Unwanted
Breezing through streets
Noises
No choices,
Cried men
And streets died then.

ANAGRAMS (74)

I could no longer lie
Therefore I died.
(This is a lie
I’m fucking alive!)

ANAGRAMS (73)

How many nothings
Make a day?
How many things
Make nothing?
Dense as swimming in mud
Or faking an orgasm
Or even watching war on TV
—While missing the porn on the other channel—
Days are stiffed
They are stuffed
And nothing makes a day hollower than events of tomorrow.

ANAGRAMS (72)

The sad thing about life
Is that
You’ll die.
The bad thing about suicide
Is that
It kills.

ANAGRAMS (71)

A sweating swear
my name
a signpost
hanging in the air
your shame.

My lips are too big
for your kiss
and this land,
too small
for your tears.

ANAGRAMS (69)

Used to be a bullet
Later a ballot
Now a piece of plastic
Full of credit.

Do you still shoot
Vote
Or just pay
For your blissful slavery?

ANAGRAMS (68)

A gun
A hole
A bullet
And wound, drawn

A man
A vein
A shot
And death, born

Every death is drawn different
And all men, born indifferent.

ANAGRAMS (67)

Tiredness
Hung over my eyelid
Weight of a prisoner
Cries my eyes

One skyful of handcuffs
Drops of torture
Red
A bud
Integrity flowers
And felony’s the gardener

ANAGRAMS (66)

Silent,
Chilled,
Baffled
—As taste of paper
Drenched by connotation—
Certitude’s Shadows shade words

Truth is too heavy
Don’t build your canoe out of newspapers.

ANAGRAMS (65)

Like a door, locked forever,
In an impregnable, tightening, ever-lasting wall
Love is there
Just to annoy…

Like love
Lasting for ever
I’m here
To ignore…

ANAGRAMS (64)

The bewildering wounds of wonder
Bet-in-ween me
Wins out
In me
Bits of me
Which weens like winds
Between and betwixt
Me.

ANAGRAMS (63)

My arms grew longer
Yet I can't reach it
My feet grew stronger
Yet I can't walk away from it.
Nor can I die for it
Although I've grown older.
Guess I was born for it
But I can't live it.
No, I can't even leave it.

ANAGRAMS (62)

Gloomy
Like nightmares of a politician in coma
Or breath of a dead baby in the womb of a raped refugee
Curses of cloud and rain
Pours over this town
Every morning

Don't wash your hands in the rain

ANAGRAMS (61)

Like waves of wine
In my glasses
Winds of invasion
Worries me

I gaze through glasses of my window,
sipping my wine
And think:
It’s an illogical logarithm!
How many suicide-bombers
Can a righteous man bomb
In a sunny Sunday morning?

And I can taste
The cost of each millimeter of a megatonic blast
In my expensive wine.
It is illogical.

ANAGRAMS (60)

Your credit has expired
And you can't loan no longer.
What would you fancy?
To fuck your banker's wife
Or kill your own?

ANAGRAMS (59)

In the near future
Whoever is not a suicide-bomber
Will be a dead man
And vise versa.

ANAGRAMS (58)

A week with many Sundays
And weekdays with few weak suns
Does your slavery commence
With work,
Prayer
Or pride?

How many suns
How many days
How many prayers
Can a week abide?

ANAGRAMS (57)

The acronical symptom of your eyelid
Did in fact read
Every sunrise
I ever missed.

ANAGRAMS (56)

Start low and go slow
You have only one day left.

ANAGRAMS (55)

What would we dream of
If nightmares were zoonosis?

ANAGRAMS (54)

If lies had keys
I would lock them up
And throw the keys into river
I would then look through the keyholes
Forever.

ANAGRAMS (53)

As liable as cheating
I do not support anything
I’m just against you.

ANAGRAMS (52)

In the last twenty-four hours
I slept with two women:
One twelve years younger than me
The other twelve years older.
And I cannot remember
How old I was yesterday.

ANAGRAMS (51)

I only have my doubts
To help me believe
That you never doubt
In what you believe

ANAGRAMS (50)

Like a pregnant woman
Conceived with Semtex
Giving birth to destruction

Booooooooooommmmmmmmm
A hand with only four fingers left
Hanging over a half arm, cut from elbow,
Of a dismembered body of a little girl

It’s not the sound that frightens me
Neither the smoke nor the collapsing roof
Nor the flames eating the flesh to ashes

My nightmares are buried in the womb of a pregnant woman
Who gives birth to a walking-death:
A pilot,
A suicide-bomber
Or a president…

ANAGRAMS (49)

[Acephalous]
Thinking with trivial end of the beginning
Retrieving the decimation of the truth

ANAGRAMS (48)

You don’t need to see it,
Touch it
Hear it,
Smell it,
Taste it,
Or dream it,
Categorize it and theorize it.
It’s right there;
It’s me
It’s you
It’s all of us.

ANAGRAMS (47)

Days of nothingness:
Sitting in the middle of
Wars
Deceits
Loves
Shopping, dog-walking and cries
Whispers, betraying and lies
Scratching old, dry wounds
On your childhood knees.

Every dead man is your future
Every taxpayer your soul
And forgetfulness the only means
Of survival.

You’re glad you weren’t born a pig,
A bird
Or an insect.
You are a miracle
A human
An exception,
Pride of creation
In this universe:
Sitting in the middle of
Battles
Treacheries
worships
Suicide-bombing, skateboarding, answerless whys
Football, TV, vomiting and chicken fries
Scratching renewed, filthy wounds
On your bleeding corpse.

ANAGRAMS (46)

I made nightmares my home:
In the living room you die
In the bathroom I cry
And in the kitchen
We eat each other
(or was it the bedroom?)

ANAGRAMS (45)

Between each blowjob and prayer
Petrodollar chews semtex.

ANAGRAMS (44)

I'm daring
I'm sharing
I'm a bomb
Scaring you numb!

ANAGRAMS (43)

There were two nights tonight:
One for brighter side of death
The other for darker side of its shadow.

ANAGRAMS (42)

We kill each other
And vise versa.

ANAGRAMS (85)

To survive life
You'd better be dead.

ANAGRAMS (41)

You are my ash
Buried in the wind
Before I die.

ANAGRAMS (40)

Beyond fear
On a dewed web
A spider suicide-attacks eagles
Behind the web
Nestles a sweated fear
That spider-webs tigers
Peace is a blind spider on the wane
Weaving hope and tremble
Against impregnable night.

ANAGRAMS (39)

Not even darkness is dark enough to get lost within it.
"Where are we?"
Nor is light bright enough to blind me.
"Where are you?"

ANAGRAMS (38)

I slept with a girl that was a boy
and woke up in a day which was a night.
My tiny victories lie in my displaceabilities:
Getting defeated even before being in a fight.
I bough a bottle of vodka which was water
and got a daughter that is my mother.
My tiny happinesses lie in my misconceptions:
Being lost inside my brain in search of my father.

ANAGRAMS (37)

I miss to make myself a misfit
I miss to fit
I miss the misfit.

ANAGRAMS (36)

My eyes are getting divorce
And I see my self twice less than myself.

ANAGRAMS (35)

The barbarous reign of your eyes
Rains the rapid mare of random nights
On the face of thunderous thoughts
Thus the deaf silence of dawn
Invades trembling of your scared silent mouth.

ANAGRAMS (34)

I may be an asshole, but I could even be worse otherwise.

ANAGRAMS (33)

My headache was yawning
when you said goodbye.
But why
does yawning now give me headache?

ANAGRAMS (84)

Yawns, yawns, yawns and yawns
Thousand of silent words on their tongues
Whispering to a lonely man the last fatal songs.

ANAGRAMS (83)

Silence is ju