Andi Zeneli

A blot on the landscape

Project Room 100

The form cannot be signed by anyone other than you Blood would be preferred But ink would do just fine

I like the status quo The dust on the keyboard The shirt tucked into oblivion Other than a small mark on his right cheek, There is no way to tell the devil apart from his own father. Line up on the white line painted on the pavement You have grown up Ready for an execution.

Project Room 101

The weather forecast on the radio Rain of vowels At the bottom of the surprise Most family members were at sea When the sailor Tried to explain the difficult theory Icebergs as prominent and influential tour guides Who comprise the most desirable people At a social function or gathering

I hate oxygen It makes you breathe I like the slavery of sulphur The primitive elements of life on earth Need an umbrella Take cover The rain of vowels will soon deform our speech Into a scream.

Project Room 102

Got pins and needles I have been sitting on my sorrow for a long time No flies on my flesh Cheerleader You do not think I'm unattractive Disappear into the winter At a pinch Fake snow inside my head Should I try to run away

Ah, roads are frozen The same old ice team Walking on sticks Fiddling around If I needed your attention I would have build a better mousetrap In cups.

Project Room 103

I am a professional weeper I am not allowed to have my clothes dried I keep fish alive In a perfume bottle Drinking tap water It is no delusion That is an unreasonable sin I go to Halloween parties in diving costumes I even rest in bed In diving gear I am a professional weeper.

Project Room 104

The perfect beach Dull sand you can throw like salt behind your back And still be lucky Tiptoeing flamingos Don't wake me up yet A bartender's handshake and these waves I am not that hairy though This is mostly seaweed on my chest So thirsty I can almost drink from my wounds Some ice would be nice Wounds that can save your life I don't know why we bury people Quick We could use the bones before our extinction takes place My sun tent was raised on a hatchet.

Project Room 105

I credit the pyramid with more concern for its stones Enter the past and never look back I can place my horse shoe Right above your naked eye And call it a brow of steel I can have a death wish On my birthday I can shake hands with snakes and laugh with hyenas Above average of laughter Out to win A blot on the landscape Ripe for destruction.

Project Room 106

Face to face

Face to face with scolded profiles Recall of a green vehicle Have a clue A kind tall building By guess Write the book on Keep options open Hang around Where the action is Bold as brass Guzzle down Silver stanza For life Man in the street To date Care nothing for confused bats Fly blind At beck's call Blanch with chalk Put hair on chest Flip out a coin not the dice Explain to bamboos the effect of growing old Put behind one eye patch

In the vicinity of the face Have time to kill Fair shake In storage carved out for wine Jump down the throat Follow in the tracks of food and other beverages Hunch up And never die.

http://andizeneli.blogspot.com/2012/04/blot-on-landscape.html