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/

Where everything, was the other way around. Tam, kde vše bylo naopak.

I really recommend listening in headphones.
Read and recorded FOR YOU in Studio Shaark, my love.
Where everything was the other way around.
Lubomír Tomik

 In the embrace of Steel Dan,
 strangled with your underwear ,                             perhaps red,
 before the eyes the specter of Mephistopheles     , perhaps tousled by hell,

 Faust's spirit
 raises the veil of smoke

 Faust's house
 will serve my joke

 Faust's breath
 where sulfur tastes

 Faust's spirit
 The universe

 In the embrace of Steel Dan,
 strangled by a red bra,
 in fainting,
 the ghost of Mephistopheles before his eyes,

 the tousled hell hopping
 leaves hoof prints,

 somewhere in Dublin.
 Stephen,
                      somewhere in Dublin.


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

Realita.

Včera jsem napsal:

Nahrával jsem ve stejném Studio Shaark jako Root. Albert Hoffman řekl : ,,Realita je nepředstavitelná bez nějakého subjektu, který ji zažívá.“ Dobrá…jsem tedy já ten ,,subjekt “ ?

Nebo jsi to TY ? A já tvořím Tvou realitu ?

Děje se tohle všechno ?

Jsi skutečná ?

Jsi.

Dnes, teď, ráno.Právě se připravuji na další čtení, před tím si ale ještě vykládám Crowleyho Tarot, učím se vykládat několik měsíců, přesto, některé ze 78 karet jsem nikdy neotočil…míchám, myslím na Tebe, v rukou cítím, že jedna karta se otočila, míchám dál, rozdělím balíček karet na tři hromádky a uprostřed je karta, kterou jsem si nikdy nevytáhnul, otočená. Takhle.Tahle.

Realita ?

Odbíjel rukama čas. Time struck with his hands.

Edgar Allan Poe na daguerrotypii
This man.
Time struck with his hands. Read and recorded in Studio Shaark

Time struck with his hands.

Lubomír Tomik

 "He was looking right in front of him,
 he made a soft buzzing sound
 and time struck with his hands. "

 How I would like to take that bus
 and see  you beating time with hands.

 Whipping  by sea onions can begin!
From The collections of poems ,, Dinner at Minski´s “ /6.6.2016/

He was born without bones. Narodil se bez kostí.

For You You You You Read and recorded in Studio Shaark
He was born without bones.

Lubomír Tomik

 He was born without bones and his first feeling
 was the elasticity of the soul,
 the heart traveled up and down the body
 in a transparent liquid,
 resembling the reflection of silicones in the setting sun
 the interior of the body lined with desire
 the clumps of the brain touch
 the earth and
 the cold of the grave

 lulled him to sleep.
from ,,Dinner at Minski´s “ /2016/

For all poets…everywhere in the strange, vivid dream in this world now.

V dálce lampa na pobřeží. In the distance a lamp on the shore.

Články - Spectrasol.cz
In the distance a lamp on the shore.
 / old navy /
Lubomír Tomik
/ old navy/

 in the distance a lamp on the shore
 yohoho
 on the distance the lamp is lit.
 yohoho
 through the fog through the heavy rain
 yohoho
 in the distance the lamp is lit.
 so rudder twist, old bro
 yohoho
 rudder twist, you're here for it!

 when you hear it crackling
 when you hear the curse
 all of us
 yohoho
 all of us
 yohoho
 not for a long time
 yohoho

Read and recorded in Studio Shaark For You.

In the distance a lamp on the shore.

Wandering the streets of Providence.

Bloumání v ulicích Providence.

In THIS house.
Wandering the streets of Providence. Read and recorded FOR YOU, my love.

Crystal Defanti

Wandering the streets of Providence.

Lubomír Tomik

 From a soaked ditch flooded with blood and mustard
 Mrs. Defanti's body crawls on her back,
 It slid through the mud and
 men in uniform were leaking vitreous,
 The whites of whites whipped in a riot of vibrators.

 The first star in the sky in a moment
 I look into your eyes
 To those crematorium fires,

 The darkening blue of the sky pushes light beyond the horizon,
 Behind The Horizon Behind The Horizon Behind The Horizon compresses it until the moment of the coming Night,

 The red disk intersects with the silhouettes
 the last few remaining TV antennas,

 All palms pierced by Mrs. Defanti's heels
 You throw them behind your head and
 our hands come together
 bone intertwines with bone.

 United blood vessels fused with hearts,
 Night is coming in Arco cafe,
 Guests are poured cold coffee with a wink,
 Waving the wings of ravens with that eternal croaking : NEVERMORE

 Greasy black feathers soaked in rain with razor blades
 in which you don't dance much

Mrs. Defantio is coming
 with an umbrella made of soapy male faces,
 the twists of the beard with foam fall on the faded lino
 with the sound of trampled candies at the foot of the gallows tree
 where the noose is long empty.

 Wandering the streets of Providence.
 All that someone else's skin
 they suddenly ride down.

 The period of FLESH is coming.

From the Dinner at Minski´s

Mezitím ve stejném Studiu Shaark .

Nahrával jsem ve stejném Studio Shaark jako Root. Albert Hoffman řekl : ,,Realita je nepředstavitelná bez nějakého subjektu, který ji zažívá.“ Dobrá…jsem tedy já ten ,,subjekt “ ?

Nebo jsi to TY ? A já tvořím Tvou realitu ?

Děje se tohle všechno ?

Jsi skutečná ?

Jsi.

Dlouhé léto před koncem světa.

Long summer before the end of the world.

Long summer before the end of the world. Read and recorded for You in Studio Shaark
Long summer before the end of the world.

Lubomír Tomik


 
When I ran my hands over the greasy clay of You,
 wrapped in a drying peel of mud,
 burned from within with your own breath,

 long summer before the end of the world
 we just hugged,

 there was no time for anything more.

 There was no time
 was not
 time

Mokrý písek. Wet sand.

Wet sand.

Lubomír Tomik

 Put a noose of your hand with a dagger in your fist in the hole in the wet sand,

 And add something else there,
 something of Your soul.

 The water rises higher,
  just leave everything to yourself,
 locks his stash.

 Girl, Woman, Old woman
 The curtain is now torn down.

 O,
  the Great Unknown.

 You'd be safe if I wasn't here.
Wet sand. Read and recorded for You in Studio Shaark
Macbeth Witches by Roman Polanski /1971 /
Dinner at Minski´s by me. /2016 /

Two morning poems for You.

Read and recorded in Studio Shaark
Long Margaret.

Lubomír Tomik

- according to folklore about the heart eater / biting is ONLY sound /-


 Oh, Long Margaret, I'm here
 Oh, here I am

 I have not yet entered this world
 and you want me now

 Oh, Long Margaret
 Oh, here I am

 I still can't see my mother's face
 and rot in your stomach all the time

 O Long Margaret
 Oh, here I am

 another heart was missing
 and the work is done!
Eat the saliva of the witch .

 Eat at the saliva of the witch 
 and the heart will not grow again

 the grimacing beast withdraws
 the needle is waving its wand

,,vjechtica"
 opens the chest

 it will pull out your heart and crush it in its teeth
 dust from it then falls on her neck, on her shoulders
 on her arms, on her beautiful breasts
 in her lipstick smile

 the teeth will turn into knives beforehand
 eat the saliva of the witch
 and heart
               again GROW.
The Loooooong Margaret
Eat the saliva of the witch.
Lunar Beauty Witch Bitch Liquid Lipstick – Glam Raider

Když se dostaneš na konec scény. When you get to the end of the scene.

Read nad recorded for You in Studio Shaark
When you get to the end of the scene.
When you get to the end of the scene.

Lubomír Tomik

 when you get to the end of the scene
 the celluloid melts
 pours over the edge of the table
 flows down on you
 I draw shapes with my eyes on him
 pupil prints
 in the area just below the ribs
  in which electric shocks burst dry

 the other woman suddenly looks me in the eye
 in my hand Your breast in a cloud of fragrant smoke

 WE are at the end of the scene.

Postavit na kávu a čekat. Stand for coffee and wait.

Stand for coffee and wait. Postavit na kávu a čekat. Read and recorded for You, my darling in Studio Shaark
Stand for coffee and wait.

Lubomír Tomik

 murderous creaking of worms in furniture,
 clinking triangles into men in fractions,
 choirs down the streets,
 a river of souls flowing around a quiet door
 sometimes it freezes
 sometimes it is dry
 and only sometimes,

 rare,

  comes out of the trough and sweeps everything in front of .

 Stand for coffee and wait.




from ,,Dinner at Minski´s and other poems“ /2016/

Our old enemy. Náš starý nepřítel.

Our old enemy. Read and recorded for You, my Love, in Studio Shaark

,,Our old enemy, the SATAN !!!“ -said priest at Sunday Mass.
I noticed and cut my ears.

I thought:
-Oh dear,, we’re in the middle of a soul conflict!!!

from ,,Dinner at Minski´s and other poems.“ /2016/
Vidle - Satan - Ptákoviny Smíchov

On the gun carriage of phantoms E.P. Na lafetě přízraků E.P.

On the gun carriage E.P. Read and recorded for You in Studio Shaark
On the gun carriage E.P.
/for You/

Lubomír Tomik

 On a carriage of ghosts of running water glued to the red tail lights of death,
  E.P. leaves and I wander through Venice,
 the gondolas collide,
 they shatter easily like couples in love in the early evening,

  just like that,
 it would be said.
 just like that



/and E.P. is ...of course....                                                                                              ...Ezra. /                Ezra Pound z pohledu odložené dcery | Hospodářské noviny (iHNed.cz)

Pro Tebe : I can’t survive NOW. Nedokáži přežít TEĎ.

Nedokáži přežít TEĎ.

 Lubomír Tomik


 Nedokáži přežít TEĎ bez Tebe,

 čas je  gumička ve Tvých vlasech ,
 natahuje se a smršťuje,

 čas je Tvůj úsměv, 
 natahuje se a smršťuje,

 čas je smrt vedle v nemocničním pokoji při docela dobrém obědě,
 najednou zmatek a shon,

 několik týdnů  jsem se nehnul z pokoje, 
max na na invalidním vozíku , záchod a potají do sprchy,
 po nehodě jsem znal jen jeden ostrov,
 na něm Ty a pokoj s vyhlídkou na život,

 po jídle  se natáhnout a otočit na druhý bok, 
 zavřít oči a díval se do Tvých,
 vše ostatní …nereálné,
 nedůležité….nějaká smrt při docela dobrém obědě,
 ve vedlejším pokoji,

 jen nedokáži přežít teď,
 bez Tebe.


I can't survive NOW.

 Lubomír Tomik

 I can't survive NOW without you,

 time is a rubber band in Your hair,
  it stretches and contracts,

 time is Your smile
  it stretches and contracts,

time is death next door in the hospital room at a pretty good lunch,
  suddenly confusion and hustle,

I didn't move out of the room for a few weeks,
 only on a wheelchair, toilet and secretly in the shower,
  after the accident I only knew one island,
  on it You and a room with a view to life,

 after the meal I reached out and turned to the other side,
   close eyes and looked at yours,

  everything else was… unrealistic,
  not recommended… .some death at a pretty good lunch,
  in the next room,

 just can't survive NOW
  without YOU.

Dakhma . Tower of silence.

A dakhma, also known as the Tower of Silence, is a circular, raised structure built by Zoroastrians for excarnation – that is, the exposure of dead human bodies to carrion birds, usually vultures.[1]

Zoroastrian exposure of the dead is first attested in the mid-5th century BCE Histories of Herodotus, but the use of towers is first documented in the early 9th century CE.[1] The doctrinal rationale for exposure is to avoid contact with Earth, Water, or Fire, all three of which are considered sacred in the Zoroastrian religion.[1]

One of the earliest literary descriptions of such a building appears in the late 9th-century Epistles of Manushchihr, where the technical term is astodan, „ossuary“. Another technical term that appears in the 9th/10th-century texts of Zoroastrian tradition (the so-called „Pahlavi books“) is dakhmag, for any place for the dead.

The modern-day towers, which are fairly uniform in their construction, have an almost flat roof, with the perimeter being slightly higher than the centre. The roof is divided into three concentric rings: the bodies of men are arranged around the outer ring, women in the second circle, and children in the innermost ring. Once the bones have been bleached by the sun and wind, which can take as long as a year, they are collected in an ossuary pit at the centre of the tower, where – assisted by lime – they gradually disintegrate, and the remaining material – with run-off rainwater – runs through multiple coal and sand filters before being eventually washed out to sea.

From Wikipedia

All the SCENTS of the world. Všechny ,,vuně“ světa.





Read and recorded in Studio Shaark
All the SCENTS of the world.

Lubomir Tomik

 The headline in the news reads:
 -All the SCENTS of the world-  ...

 You can imagine the SCENT as beautiful fairies
 on a meadow in the middle of a dense
 coniferous forest,
 in the moonlight he runs there
 they jump from feet to feet
 and
 it looks,
 that they are nice .....bitches 

- Ha! And Gotcha!-

 Smile.

from the ,,Dinner at Minski´s /2016/

„Who’s there, my God, who’s there?“

Hemingway, Fitzgerald, And The Round That Went On Too LongThe Fight City
„Who’s there, my God, who’s there?“ Read and recorded for You in Studio Shaark
"Who's there, my God, who's there?"

Lubomír Tomik

 Ernest Hemingway knocked out a phone booth,
 it was only afternoon,
 guy in an old STB secret police coat
 with a leather bag and an injured spine entered a roundabout,
 the cars stopped indecisively and the drivers didn't know what to do,
 the guy in the orange overalls was walking on the railway embankment,
 for a moment he even seemed to be able to control the tracks and sleepers
 but then he looked at the track in front of him
 he stared until his eyeballs fell out
 and on the gleaming tracks they rolled toward the unknown,
head to all the tattoo ink,
 Ernest Hemingway knocked out a phone booth,
 the handset fell to the ground,
 coins spilled,
 on the other side of the line was Ema Destin
 and she cried :        

,, Who is there, O God, O God, who is there? "
Lásky Emy Destinnové - Novinky.cz

The sullen man. Ten zasmušilý chlapík.

The sullen man. Read and recorded For You in Studio Shaark
The sullen man.

Lubomír Tomik


 Before he lay down under the sign No. 😯
 called some Reynolds
 the soul was winking and was almost on the edge
 before he lay down under the sign No. 😯
For You ….definitely For You… all this….For You. Edgar Allan Poe - Wikiwand

Matyášovou branou.

Matyášova brána
Matyášova brána se zbytky někdejšího městského opevnění – vnitřní středověké hradby stojí nedaleko Masarykova náměstí v parku za komplexem jezuitských budov. Je to jedna ze tří městských bran, původně nazývaná Zadní, později Královská. Po požáru v roce 1609 musela být znovu obnovena. Další pozůstatky městského opevnění se nacházejí v blízkosti někdejšího arzenálu – císařské zbrojnice a na konci ulice Dlouhá (základy válcové věže).
Pokud přijedete do Uherského Hradiště vlakem, po pár krocích směrem do centra narazíte na platan javorolistý. Obvod kmene dosahuje asi 4.5 metru a jeho stáří se odhaduje na čtvrt století. Dnešní chráněný strom původně rostl v zahradě bývalé jezuitské koleje, později proměněné na kasárna.

A je TO tady, pomyslel si. And here IT is, he thought.

And here it is, he thought. Read and recorded for You, in Studio Shaark
And here it is, he thought.

Lubomír Tomik

 And here it is he thought,
 it was like a whiplash,
 creaking skin,
 blinding light,

 the bow passes over the remnants of the silhouettes of the pig casings

 Her hips curl,
 she tasted all that,
 young heart,

 young with a gnaw of darkness.

 And here it is he thought,
 it's here and he felt her teeth pierce his flesh.

Completely attack. Úplně napadrť.

Dnes speciálně pro Tebe, ať údery boxovací rukavice , které zazní, úplně napadrť rozbijí Tvou nemoc.





Read and recorded in Studio Shaark
Napadrť.
Completely attack.

Lubomír Tomik

 under 
the blows
 of hands 
tearing 
me
 to
 pieces
 stomachs
 broken 
gushing
 vermilion
 in 
the palms 
of the wreckage 
of the eyes


 completely attack.

from the collections of poem ,,Dinner at Minski´s „/2016/ For You.

Boiler full of necks. Kotel plný hrdel.


Albrecht Dürer: Utrpení deseti tisíc křesťanů, 1508
Foto: Vienna, Kunsthistorisches Museum © KHM-Museumsverband
Albrecht Dürer: Utrpení deseti tisíc křesťanů, 1508
Boiler full of necks. Read and recorded in Studio Shaark For You, my Love

Boiler full of necks.

Lubomír Tomik

 the boiler full of throats overflows
 and the characters as from Durer's woodcut,
 they disappear and appear
 above the surface of the saddled goulash of blood,
 wooden spoon disappears somewhere in the clouds
 feet appear

the image is suddenly colored,
 is red, smudges of green, black to brown
 full of movement and lamentation:

 Halving a bull in a poppy field.

Just another fix. Pro Tebe, lásko. To Floor.

Just another fix. Read and recorded for You in Studio Shaark
jUst anoTHER  fix.

lubomír tomik

 sleePing powdEr
 théNarDier has his pockets full
 lobsters whine softly
 they smile eccentRically
 rhythmicAlly padded cell next to the room
 it looks unusual in her eyes
 he spent five minutes viGorously in china
 than he lived ONly the life of cats
 before there are one more of us
 he stares into his eyes
 and they removed the skin from the headless hull
 grotesque performance
 he is one of those priests
 you had to put it on.

 a guy driving in the fog across an abyss
 behind igraine scattering from the cloak
 letters of the alphabet.

There is always time for a kiss, Lulu thought.

Lulu. Read and recorded in Studio Shaark

There is always time for a kiss, Lulu thought.

 Lubomír Tomik

 And so she twisted her ass in the slow rhythm of the music,
 rippled hips,
 but it was useless, the bar was empty.

 She reached into her back pocket and found,
 she didn't even have any money.
From….collections of poem. ,,Dinner at Minski´s

It really happened … only the music was different … I don’t know what was playing when I was there … but the sadness in the tones of the accordion is accurate.

Mezi hroby. Between the graves.

Between the graves. Read and recorded in Studio Shaark
Between the graves.
Lubomír Tomik

 Between the graves you can smell cologne,
 -Hi Your feets!- I smile,

 between the graves you can smell cologne,
 the heart bursts under the onslaught of baits,tits,etc,
 paperback,

 between the graves you can smell cologne
 several african american guys leaning on a tree
 in the hot heat,

 goes through a ghetto somewhere in Ostrava
 opens the door you're there,

 you are naked and you are lying on the table
 as if nothing was happening.

 Then you just say:
 -You do five things at once. You have to concentrate.-

Mažu své básně . /Pro Tebe/ I erase my poems. /For You/


I erase my poems in PC.

Lubomír Tomik

 I erase my poems.
 I'm erase them and now, now I'm getting ready for this one!

-NOOOOO!!!!!- she shouted. -I will definitely be THE RIGHT ONNEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!-


 Is he still here?
I erase my poems in PC. Read and recorded in Studio Shaark
From this book.

Someone else’s poem about me.





Photo by Johannes Plenio on Pexels.com
Someone else’s poem about me. Read and recorded in Studio Shaark
Someone else's poem about me.

Lubomir Tomik

 the forest is the sun of my soul
 dark falls is my forest
 my soul is a forest set dark

is
soul
 sun
 My
 forest

 my soul is a dark forest
 above which the sun sometimes sets
 and hunters?

 They can't get rid of the feeling
 that it won't turn out well.
From the collectons of poems ,,Dinner at Minski /2016/

Evolution. Evoluce.

Evolution. Read and recorded in Studio Shaark ,with You.

evolutioN.

lubomír tomik

and you don’t know who we are or where we’re going
and you don’t know either,

in the retina reflections of deer eyes
there is a shadow,
grunts
And it disappears in the thicket

The quail bit through the hawk’s throAt
and evolution?

diSappeared into shit.

At the ball at the opera. Na plese v opeře.

Read and recorded in Studio Shaark.

A the ball at the opera. Read and recorded in Studio Shaark

At the ball at the opera.

Lubomír Tomik

 Plastic silicon dolls dancing at a ball in the opera and a hungry man,
 in the middle of a bombed-out block of houses,
 he sniffs an eye from the dead man's burnt skull.

 Spread your arms,
 Death,
 your time has come.

Photo by Skitterphoto on Pexels.com

Crowleyho Tarot na dnešní den…a karta je…

Crowleyho tarot – 11 – Síla (probud.se) …..Osoby narozené ve Lvu budou vašimi důležitými zrcadly, odrážejícími váš potenciál projevovat se tvůrčím způsobem.TY. Nebo pocítíte potřebu dořešit se zrozenci ve Lvu (21. července – 21. srpna) některé záležitosti z minulosti. TY.

Banální básnické haraburdí známé od 19. století. Banal poetic junk known since the 19th century.

Image result for Edo japan
Read and recorded in Studio Shaark
Banal poetic junk known since the 19th century.
/To Milan K./

Lubomír Tomik

 In the raunchy neighborhood of Edo
 the sound of wooden sandals
 crosses a stone bridge.

 Her eyes,
 she has a light canopy of sorrow draped over them.

Edo – Wikipedia

Banal poetic junk known since the 19th century.

The title of the poem is from prof. Milan Knížák, Milan Knížák – Wikipedie (wikipedia.org) years ago he gave me a nice slap in his words, I needed her, thanks. Thanks for You time. These are his words:

„You use banal poetic junk known since the 19th century.“

Time …. a word.

Thank you ….words . But sincerely.

And after Your criticism, I wrote this poem…maybe special haiku.

Try to capture feelings. …..How does a sales woman feel?

Impozantní chřestová polévka. Impressive asparagus soup.

Impressive asparagus soup.
Nahráno ve Studio Shaark
Impressive asparagus soup.
Impressive asparagus soup.
/For You /

Lubomír Tomik

 part one.

 back to the scum in the traps of outgoing women,
 I tilt my head,
 closed eyes soak inside

 through the breathing tube they travel to my heart

 she stares at him in amazement
 he sees withered blackened bits of sorrow
 and hatred

 Hate.

 Sadness.

 But it was a long time ago.



 part two.

 dreams furrowed by ghosts flying sukkub attacking breasts,
 saliva leaving the mouth ajar,
 quiet delicious dripping

 I'm heading for the harbor
 barge full of white snow

 I'm heading for the morgue

 I cross thousands of lips blackened with opium tincture

I walk through the crowd of demimondens with crooked hats

 I grab the Maguey worm in my teeth

 the real soul of every human being
 it is hidden in its own darkness
 in that unkind girlfriend of us all

 it is not advisable to look into this abyss

 you have to try:
 dreams furrowed by ghosts torn pajama by cocks,
 in which no one dreams those dreams anymore,
 furrowed by You

we swim in an impressive asparagus soup, all around,
over and over.





From      ,,Dinner at Minski " /2016/

Karta Crowleyho Tarotu …

…měla pravdu.

Tarot na dnešní nahrávání… – Midian Poet

Úžasný zážitek.

Bylo to jako….nakouknutí za oponu.

Z knihy výkladů.

-převrácený Pentagram. Splněno.

Četl jsem pro Tebe na místě, kde nahrával i třeba …ROOT.

-Nápad spojený s dalším rozvojem čeká v hloubce a je udržován naživu, dokud nepřijde čas jeho uskutečnění. Splněno.

-Uvěznění v pasti vášní…. Splněno, jsem uvězněn v Tobě, měl jsem celou dobu před sebou Tvou fotku.

-Prožívat vlastní pudy jako tvůrčí energii. Splněno.

-Nevědomé sítě moci a závislosti… Nemůžu posoudit, ….NEVĚDOMÉ- to víš jen Ty. Ale ano, máš mne ve své moci, ano, jsem na Tobě závislý.

Samozřejmě jsem nevybral vše, co karta představuje….ale je to ..jiné, vytáhnout ze 78 karet zrovna trumfového Ďábla, bylo to….ďábelské !

A jdu poslechnout , co jsme s Pavlem vykouzlili…..další heslo z knihy výkladů bylo- Černá magie.

Splněno….,co je magie, co jsou kouzla a zaklínadla , než slova, psaná nebo pronesená nahlas ?