Saturday
Wednesday
Monday
Autopoem in black by SteffyPop
As I am writing this I am naked in my bed.
I am far too much spirit and soul, and far too little body.
As a child the entrance to the soul in others was to be found.
The body was the flaws of the soul, and it slowly dripped out through.
Dreams of bodies of asian uncles and wet pussylicious.
The mechanics of sex is the pounding of the nerves.
The soul is at stake with no understanding of separation.
In school feel free to have a look at yourself, or be jugded by others.
Find flaws, but disguise them with the soul – it was always possible.
That was the game of manipulation of life, and choices turned against you.
The sex! The soul! The body! The love! The greatest love! The great love.
And how others talk, or what they say, it´s without clues – they can´t speak!
They communicate with cocks and ass and pussy and buy rings and get married and get killed cause they didn´t know that side to him/her.
To get to – gether – know a person – well.
In the eyes of the horror of inside is a black hole of insides.
And the inside is an ocean where the inside of the ocean is a black hole.
And in space the inside can be outside and the space is an ocean of black insides.
And our inside is the outside of space and the oceans - within us is the darkness inside.
Bodies and souls and feelings of mechanics and sex and seizures and primitive needs and functions of all generations of emptiness filled with substance made out of black.
Total darkness in the middle of the eye and heat generated through anus and urinal canals.
Fuck you asshole! Fuck me! I wanna fuck him. Fuck´s sake!! The F-word.
Far too much soul and too little body to be a human.
Perhaps am I an angel?
Or a loser?
Or a psycho-crazy-lunatic-idiot?
Or reaching nirvana?
Or being worthless?
Or dead?
The body is the outside of a dark inside that is the outside of space, deriving from our holy God the Sun – the only true will of nonsense.
Sunday
Likt trolleri by SteffyPop
På ett ukrainskt barnhem går jag runt i Drag
Jag kittlar och stryker, jag åmar och ler
Oleg morrar mot mig och jag kisar tillbaka
Trolleri är vad det är, en känslornas manipulation
Pjotr binder jag fast i sängen och han är stum av utlösningar
Trolleri runt mina stora plastbröst, en manipulation av könet
Vild förruttnelse av känslolös apati utvecklar armar likt en bläckfisk
Som hela tiden måste gripa tag i tillfällig energi, likt trolleri
En kick chockstartar ett dött system som saknar bränsle, förnyelsebart
När jag går där i Drag så är jag den jag vill vara, full av det.
Och alla dessa föräldralösa barn under samma ukrainska tak glor hypnotiserade
Min dans sveper deras fantasi och alla lekens regler förmedlas via telepati
Likt trolleri.
Thursday
West-side ”me, me, me’s” by SteffyPop
Pour some blood, on your knife
Liberate the soul
Reach the goal
Dance, create and enjoy your life
Get stuck between, two human bodies
Indicate affection
Use your connection
You play with people, instead of barbies
Moisturize your drunk - red dry skin
Powder it up
Hey you wzup?
Show off the freedom of yourself within
Steal a bike, take a ride with friends
Go to places
Clubs and spaces
Sell it on Mauer Park to someone else
Fuck a girl, smoke a joint
Free is all
Free to all
West-side reached the final point
Whatever dude, over there is black
Poor and hungry
High and angry
Enjoy before they kill you back…
Tuesday
White-proud-aryan by SteffyPop
English is back and bragging
For his ideas are the saviour
Liberation is in one mind kept
What discourses is there to accept?
Popcultural sitting down´s
His highness is white, aryan and proud
Why his race is inferior!
Objects appear to be larger in the mirror
Purely living on whiteness
and his blue aryan veins
depressed when the sky is snowing
he pierces a needed needle of heroin.
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