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