the corpse-grinders of berlin - episode 25
Black Marble Heart
She extracts herself suddenly
Her torso silhouetted, reclining
Revealing a marble interior
Her hair cut short and wild
A body which echoes.
Here,
Here is the ash of an alchemical girl
Who turns gold into shit a la Berlinese
Many lovers blamed themselves wrongly
Many faces cringed
As she danced the dance
That meant their death
Upon a Weimar dancefloor.
This spirit which burns so bright
Speaks of a callous love
Lips of betrayal
Whispered breaths which flay
Pig-hearted as nails.
It’s true her breasts shine
Ghostly white as porcelain
But with a nervous revelation
Wordless and lawless
Revealing the brightness of extinction.
He who descends the stairs
Past the willow and past the pine
Will find her reciting other’s words
Endlessly
Between screams and laughs
A criminal of love
She changes her name with the seasons
To escape the law
But tell me, dark Lilith
From what law are you running?
The day is as dark as water
It’s Berlin
Irene wanders over a glass of Sauvignon
Lingering she’s searching
Finally she says:
”Without responsibility there’s no
understanding.”
In the sapphire of the half-light
Things are glowing, shifting
Glasses, eyes, it all seems relevant
And her sharp cheekbone
And watery gaze
Are somehow unconjureable
An eclipse of release
From the crematorium of twisted limbs.
”I’m not myself these days”
Well, few people are
The pumping of her blood
Steered by jealousy
Nevermore flows naturally
But is tainted psychologically
Smoking to burn away the past
Drinking to avoid responsibility
Stripping to excite
The testicles of death.
Poetry is a chaos which endures
Not revenge, nor amnesia
Not even dreams saved Cassandra
”We came together as we separated”
The incomprehensible source.
At the final moment
The statue of Venus
Quiet and cold as a winter’s river
Reveals her secrets
By the narcotics of twilight.
Through words reality is evoked.
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