Let’s taste it. Ochutnáme to.

Read and recorded in Studio Shaark for You , Goddess.
Let's taste it.
/For You /

Lubomír Tomik

 the old seasons are disappearing
 rusty gears of time
 bends in the wind

 it wasn't yesterday
 not tomorrow
the old seasons are disappearing

 I'll wrap you in a shroud
 from faded rose petals

 I sewed them together
 pieces of intestines
 a bone of ribs

 not tomorrow
 not yesterday
 one heartbeat

 the old seasons are disappearing.

 You.
Ze sbírky ,,Večeře u Minského a jiné básně “ / 2016 /

A teď je ten pravý čas na …..Hotel for insects.

From the ,, Dinner at Minski´s “ /2016/

Read and recorded for you my truly love in Studio Shaark

Kvůli použití zvukových efektů prosím doporučuji poslech ve sluchátkách. Due to the use of sound effects, I recommend listening in headphones. A zavřít oči, prosím, vážně…díky and close your eyes,seriously, thanks.

Hotel for insects.

Lubomír Tomik

 I cut       sawdust      boards all over the ground,
 making at the hotel for insects,
 nailing nails avoided thumb injuries,
 blood splashed only kimono

 the back wall was covered with canvas
 used reeds bamboo drilled wood pie
 bag of pine cones all at the hotel for insects

 I sipped from steaming tea with honey and plum brandy,
 it's hardly spring I thought- What the hell am I attracting to a beetle?-

     Colorado beetle of the setting sun?     Meadow horse sadness ?

 I just smiled.
….and this is him, Hotel for insects from poem, right now, after five years …. the same as me …. destroyed, scrapped … still standing … like me …. and what if some bastard hit me with a car in may 2019? What if the government and the authorities took away my money, ID cards, and from tomorrow also the opportunity to be with you in february 2021? Once…. i believe. Once.

Drobné náhody.

Miluji ty drobné náhody..kdy zapadnou události do sebe…dám si na své stránky odkaz na song Hurt….od NIN Hurt. – Midian Poet pak večer na otázku Floor Jansen ,,Jaký by měla nazpívat cover“ na její Youtube kanál jí píši : ,,Hurt from Trent Reznor, please,Floor.“ …jdu si TEĎ udělat kávu…puštěný ROCK MAX …jaký song tam asi hraje….,že by ,,Hurt“? Yes.

To ovšem není nic proti ,,Situaci kolem Seiferta“ Píši si z někým z místa ,kde je Seifert pohřben, náhodně to zjistím, smějeme se, že až někdy pojedu na kávu, zastavím se tam. O několik dní později jsem u přítele, knížka od Seiferta na stole. Včera večer jsou u nás na chvíli na návštěvě známí , manželé…znovu padne náhodně jméno Seifert, ne z mé strany. Už se jen usmívám….a v následující větě od přítele jsou slova…,,,,vykládání karet“ už jen ukáži prstem, protože POD stolem, zcela mimo výhled dotyčného leží náhodně kniha o vykládání Tarotu podle Crowleyho….nevyhledávám tyhle události, přicházejí sami,dějí se, jako když si před návštěvou studia vytáhnu poprvé ze 78 karet Crowleyho tarot – Malá arkána – Dvojka pohárů (probud.se) a Ty jsi se mnou…stále a jen pro Tebe :

Pro vládu naší země mám jen jediný vzkaz: They rejoice for a century.

Read and recorded in Studio Shaark for these heartless bastards.

They rejoice for a century.
They rejoice for a century.

Lubomír Tomik

 they rejoice for centuries
 as if it was over

  and they did not have to fill baths full of water

 they rejoice for centuries
 as if it was over

 they rejoice for centuries
 and rot
 just as long

and they then put  hands in the carcass of themselves
 palms full of rotting flesh

 they will not stop feeding.

 they rejoice for centuries.
from ,, Dinner at Minski´s “ / 2016 /

Znovu a znovu mi berou všechno. Všeho do času.

I stepped on the dried bird’s skeleton. Pro Tebe, má lásko.Ze srdce.

Kvůli použití zvukových efektů prosím doporučuji poslech ve sluchátkách. Due to the use of sound effects, I recommend listening in headphones. A zavřít oči, prosím, vážně…díky and close your eyes,seriously, thanks.

ORIZABA | Passengers in History
Rozšlápnul jsem vysušenou ptačí kostru.
Read and recorded FOR YOU LOVE in Studio Shaark

I stepped on the dried bird’s skeleton,

Lubomír Tomik,

and the tiny chest cracked,
I limped
someone put a bottle in my trail.

she pounded me with dolphin skin,
THE MAGIC beauty of His being,
someone asked:- A shot?-
answer: -Tomorrow, or in eleven days.-

It started to rain, the car chuckled uncertainly
water splashed out of the exhaust,
then he rode in the rain, in the distance over the mountains
it flashed,

he drove and thought of the man,
who burned his poems in the boiler room of the steamer Orizaba,
rolling black smoke
covered the sea
long
mourning
ribbon.

from ,,Dinner at Minski´s “ …i write this in 2016…….and now is reality.

Queue in the supermarket. Fronta v supermarketu.

Fronta v supermarketu stock fotografie, royalty free Fronta v supermarketu  obrázky | Depositphotos ®
Queue in the supermarket. Read and recorded for You in 2021 , For You. I write this in Year 2O16. Strange.
Queue in the supermarket.

Lubomír Tomik

 the beauty stood there thinking about the people in line in front of her
 there stood a guy thinking about the people in line in front of him
 I was standing there

 I remembered a beauty and a guy telling me what they were doing
 in line at the supermarket

 I remembered it and thought about the people in line in front of me

 On the twentieth day of March, thirteen hundred and forty-five,
 it looked like a sale of plague bacteria.


 Good buy, man.
From ,, Dinner at Minski´s “ /2016/

Zvuk zachycený při procházce městem.

Sound captured while walking through the city.


Ukraine, 2015, photo by me.
Raed and recorded Sound captured while walking through the city. in Studio Shaark forYou, my far far far , love.
Sound captured while walking through the city.

Lubomír Tomik

 Sound captured while walking through the city
 it was like an echo of a shot,
 during the uprising.

  The heart rose,
tore through the chests of all involved,

 there was no one to hug anymore
 there was nowhere to write for mercy.

 Our hearts are mostly nice bitches,
 she thought,

 that beauty.

The saddest poem of all.

The saddest poem of all. Read and recorded in Studio Shaark for You, my love.
The saddest poem of all.

Lubomir Tomik

 Cute druids fall from the trees,
 when swans take off above the river
 they flutter their wings.

Butts sing in the quiet bays of adolescence,
 ejaculation on wooden piers
 and moaning in the tents,
 the humidity of the saturday nights,
 the taste of the mouth alternating in the evening,

 I stood with a bottle of wine in front of the stage,
 the band was terrible and someone grabbed my shoulder,

 I turned , She suddenly kissing me,
 in the hall I had in my hand Her tongue and breast in mouth,
 outside we leaned against a tree,
 she took off my pants and said after a week: - So, we will continue ? -


 I can't remember Her face.
 
from the Dinner at Minski /2016/