Some poems on thinking
|Not all poems are translated til now.
Somewhere it's written he came eight thousand years ago |
Now I know that people were earlier here
They say he lived where now air-planes fly
and feed up with human love
But apparently he became superstitious and got out of fashion
This is not true, metaphors got out of fashion
- complains the priest - a poet
Can metaphors speak the truth ?
God is the mirror on the bottom of your soul
Look at it and it smoothes then
Thoughts fear to die|
Thoughts fear to die,
when the mind one after another drops them down into the nothingness.
They grab their brothers convulsively
and beg at least for the funeral.
I'm the one of a billion possibilities,
who invented it's existence.
My grandfather is separated from me
with the dimension of Great Numbers - the Time.
My grandson is a part of the Other Being
I look at time when it is being.
The only question that was left is,
why does my thoughts not equal the facts.
Why do they believe|
Remind frozen scent of the childhood.
Do you know that seeing the room it says to you ?
Do you remember that each deepened object takes on its meaning
which adults call the soul ?
Do you know that the leaves whisper
and the mountain's groaning?
If yes, do you know now why people personify the sense,
thich means, they believe in god ?
Codifying a human|
Annoying words touch my mind
Seducing words embrace me jealously
They code the notions,
but hurt your soul
They number things
and code your thoughts
Maybe one day we give up words
and live by doing
I put no-words below
hoping you read them from this invocation
Exaggerated honesty, that was a lie
Excessive pain hurt really, but more than it was needed
Exaggerated words which intertwined lines
And silence, that was exaggerated
Unspoken words that did not exist
Excessive gesture, which documented the intention of kindness
The advertised goodness, which after securing itself hid in infirmity
And exaggerated was the thoughtfulness
At the end of the universe|
I was waiting for you on the bench,
at the end of the universe.
Wind blowing through my hair.
I've been waiting for you stifling
any hope for the sense.
I was waiting for you at the end of humanity
ready for nothingness.
I sat on the bench when cars moved by.
I was waiting for passing cars
not asking if you recognize me,
while behind them it was nothing.
I was waiting for you at the mall|
There was a day when Carrefour robbed me of the senses and suffering.
It was the sun, fluorescent vibrating through the aisles.
Smell wearied when Eve activated the next transaction.
She was a long-haired blonde dressed stick to the imperative.
It was the day when Eve left me with a stolen apple,
which shy gave me once instead of herself.
I've been waiting for you behind the glass,|
when people passed.
I was waiting for you in the rain
and when it was over.
Noise blunt my hearing.
Foreign words receded.
I've been waiting without raising my eyes
for not to see your non-existence.
You'r asking about women ?
Yeah, I know, you mean
these erotising objects of unknown purpose
moving on the sidewalk.
Oh, I undestand you'v asking about the maintenance.
Yeah, is's true, that ...
But, you know, your breath ...
No, I don't mean channel nor other company
You know, your breath ...
Yes, I'v cleaned in the morning before I went out.
This breath ...
Possibly is's from savannah
You don't know ? - Yeah, it's clear.
And the eyes ? - What do you think about them ?
Yeah, partially to pinn up
No, I'm just asking if
the new digital beeing of our planete,
who's creating our social situations for us now
is looking on us with this manner.
I know, it has cameras, but I'm just asking ...
I understand !
I'm just asking if it's looking at itself with our eyes.
As your hand murdered her eyes, |
killed also my eyes.
When it murdered her smile
the World cannot look at itself.
Thousend years went virgins to Arab brothels,
and Allah was great.
After another hundred years
when my infected family brought a child to the world,
Who? - Me,
I brought her laughing eyes to my mind back.
It does not matter.
Waiting for God |
Awaiting for God they drunk the sweetness
with a straw.
Waiting for the moment of the own life
they stroke the anxiety of thought to the absolute.
They didn't dare to mute the silence with glare,
when God entered the cafe,
looked around without leaving the impression of agility,
ordered coffee, sat down at the nearest table.
He also din't dare to ruffle the silence.
Well, they were all to keep the secret
connected to the net, wirelessly.
The only contact by TCP/IP.
Do not reveal my secrecy with laughter,