Sabotage in the Port of Love.

Read and recorded for You at Malenovice Castle 6.1.21
Sabotage in the Port of Love.

Lubomír Tomik

 The last port of love
  block ships sunk at its mouth,

 I break up at night
 wrecks eaten by salt seawater,
 and I land at the pier
 where half-naked dancers patrol
 under a starry tropical sky,

 one of them is You,
 You rattle with lava stones
 like castanets,

 You will hit me with your dance
 more precisely than a bullet,

 sabotage in the port of love
 sabotage in the port of love

 sabotage
 in the last Port of Love.

The cellar where i read for You is down in the wooden door on the left … I read there just for you … an incredible experience.

The News ?

News.

 Lubomír Tomik

 -We know how it is, with feeling and such. … before Sport-
 the charming presenter smirked,
 she blurted out - -An unknown perpetrator stole
 thirty-two tons of honey.-

 I smiled.

 Followed by a live report:
 An older fisherman stood on the banks of the Morava River in Kvasice,
 the reporter asked him
 which fish live there,

 -Carp, pike, zander…-  ,

  the reporter will answer:
 -And what do you fancy?

 The guy thinks:-The duck with cabbage,
 but I won't catch it here.

 I smiled.


 Suddenly she looked serious and said:
-We're interrupting the broadcast,
 Intercontinental nuclear missiles have just hit, we're interrupting the broadcast.-

Our lives are on fire, I thought.

An experiment with frog hearts.

Pokus s žabími srdci. Read 29.12. at the monument in Mikulčice
An experiment with frog hearts.

Lubomír Tomik

 Tribute to His forked tongue,
 vanilla smoothies,
 full of poison, satin and velvet,
You ran your finger over the first verse

 only two coins
 for the potion of immortality
 only two coins
 for the tribute of Her forked tongue
 You moved your index finger,

 sliding on
 individual words

 "I was looking for Miss Lake
 in bars after midnight,
 in a raincoat with a pointed hat staggering with a lantern on the tide line
 under the same half of the moon,
 in the folds of your veil
 in the ghostly streets of the Portuguese tavern,
 in the eyes of the Sandwich peasants,
 in the deflection of the planets,
 in the reflections of the bows of tea clippers breaking through curtains of perfume,
 eyes fixed on the west,
 naked skin strewn with splinters of the oceans,"

 I finally found her:
 Dressed in Orion's belt,
 she took me by the arm and smiled gracefully.

 She wandered in a perfect labyrinth,
 Miss Lake.

 You.
ze sbírky Veronica a jiné básně /2018/