Kapitán,Martin,Albatros,Vypravěč, polévka ze žraločích ploutví.
And I held astronaut Peters by the hand.
An early plane landed on the roof of the Captain’s cabin. At least that’s what it looked like at first. They were awakened by a thunderous blow, and as they ran outside they saw the shadow of their wings in the sloping morning sun.
-I’m an albatross! -the plane said grimly. Then he added- Hello .-
-Albatross means white bird.-Captain objected.
-Well just-recognized the plane. -That’s why I’m here.-
- Are you talking?
-Well, I’m talking. That’s why I’m here.-
- Albatross is like a big seagull, isn’t it? „-Martin asked the Captain.
The plane was more like a large gray crow.
Seagull is poor in our country.
- A huge crooked knife and two pre-Flood pirate guns stalked behind his waist.
-Put on my experience. I heard the rumble of five hundred guns in a naval battle. I can speak in ten languages. My brain works properly, exactly, like a patent lock.- said the albatross.
-Sailor must know everything -Martin said.
-And when you’re flying, where’s your engine? And where the rudder? Birds don’t fly without an engine and a rudder! ”The Captain said between his teeth.
-Just sit back and see if they’re flying or not.-
For a moment, the albatross seemed to fall asleep. Eventually he lifts his eyelids, heavy.
The Captain nodded.
- -There will be shark fin soup for breakfast, may I invite you?-
- Are there sharks here?
-Now little-said Captain-I really like this soup.-
Wealth is nonsense in itself. Or stardust?
Now he was suddenly enjoying the soups to the full. And he liked it.
After breakfast, the Captain sat down on the porch with a smoldering bullet. By noon yesterday, every string of his being was tense, everything in it working in the winter, endlessly calculating what might happen.
The albatross stared into space like an angler.
-I completely forgot what I really wanted! ”Said the albatross.
The Captain waved.
The albatross looked like a chill ran down his spine. He had never eaten shark fin soup before. He went crazy.
-You took my luck – all my luck.- He pulled out a pirate gun, put it to sleep and pulled the trigger.
Suddenly he is out of reach of everything alive.
-If I remember that I couldn’t read most of my lousy life, I would cry, cry over the wasted time.-sighed the old helmsman who was there with them.
Sometimes the radio waves point it completely differently than they should.
Without them, the monsters would come out of their lairs and devour the whole world!
End of Chapter 48.
Písně. Lubomír Tomik Výkřiky do tmy, vracejí se bez ozvěny jeden za druhým pestrobarevné vážky fantazie na snových loukách, divné plány spřádají, zpívají písně o bolesti, každé mávnutí křídly zní jako praskot kostí. XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX Songs. Lubomír Tomik Cries into the dark, return without echo one by one brightly colored fantasy dragonflies on dreamy meadows they spin strange plans, they sing songs about pain, every fluttering of the wings sounds like a cracked bones . XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Každé mávnutí křídly zní….
Camera freak. Lubomír Tomik Netvor za kamerou, řasy oči rty mhouří má láska je dvojité šroubení kulky poprvé mě zabije čistě, podruhé pro jistotu obrysy nad hladinou v dálce, mihotavé fata morgány když loď ztroskotala, nejdříve jsme snědli zraněné. XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX Camera freak. Lubomír Tomik Monster behind the camera, eyelashes eyes lips murmur my love is double bullet fitting will kill me cleanly for the first time, second time for sure contours above the surface in the distance, shimmering fata morgana when the ship sank, we ate first injured. XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Tak jako jsou všichni z téhle po sto letech nalezené fotografie arktické expedice mrtví a zbyly jen stíny na nevyvolaných fotkách v ledu.
Přes řeku času. Lubomír Tomik přes řeku času plout na hladinu zírat, dost bylo zklamání, dost bylo splínu jestli je každý nový den právě teď, už ne bezmocně pěsti svírat postavit hráz v řece času, ať se rozleje do polí, TEĎ, zlomený, ne bezmocný, putujeme z chvíle do chvíle, čas nemá hranice za okny ptačí zpěv, zní, jako posledního soudu polnice máme místo v první řadě, a masky padají dolů, když jsme obnaženi až na kost básník střílí šípy do nebe , zarývají se do dávno mrtvých bohů, jsme jen lidé, no a co ? XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX Across the river of time. Lubomír Tomik cross the river of time stare at the surface enough was disappointing enough was spleen if every new day is right now, no longer helpless clenching fists build a dam in the river of time, let it spill into the fields, NOW, broken, not helpless we wander from moment to moment time has no limits behind the windows bird singing, sounds like as the last court of the bugle we have a place in the first place, and the masks fall down, when we are exposed to the bone the poet shoots arrows into the sky, they dig in the long dead gods, we're just people so what ?
Crowleyho Tarot :
And I held astronaut Peters by the hand.
Did Whitman scare the children in Louisiana as he walked down the open street?
From nowhere. I’m the man hidden in someone’s trap. Pick me up so high that I touch the sky, at least one more time.
Have you ever seen a large cargo ship sail slowly through a bay on a sunny afternoon, and as you searched intently your eyes along its serpentine iron length, searching for the people, sailors, ghosts who must drive this dreamy vessel soaring the soft waters of London Harbor, you did not see nothing but the four sides of the world and a plethora of possibilities, who could it be, a mysterious pilot, smiling under his beard, which he doesn’t even have?
At dawn she stood on the ridge, looking up at the harbor.
- Do you still love me? ”She asked. -Didn’t you fall in love with some twentieth-century beauty?
-It suits you, today it really suits you, my dear.-He answered with a shrug.
He often thought of the Beautiful Lady of the Court. And also on Yvette, who looked so much like her.
- What’s the fog? „She asked.
-The wind is blowing in the wind, „replied Mr. Marek.
It was completely calm.
-Go away.- said Helene Blehár.-Go from here, it won’t be fun here today.-
She closed behind her and would definitely start descending the stairs.
Mr. Marek, all nervous about what he caused, calls for her: -You are the best woman I could get in this town and I am terribly sorry for what I did to you -.-
And this is my room, gray without you on Sunday morning.
Edward Bengt had a proven detective method.
He settled comfortably on the sofa and closed his eyes.
His thoughts were often far away now, he didn’t even notice when the girls talked to him before going to bed, and he laughed at them and teased him if he wasn’t in love.
He opened his eyes and yanked at them.
-Take care of yourself-
-Ah, that means the lord is in love when he’s so angry!
And they kept giggling.
But Edward Bengt was not in love, he was obsessed, obsessed, obsessed …obsessed with you, with a desire to catch David Hamilton alias Pound David.
That was all. But he couldn’t know that I was still moving around London and he had no idea what I was up to.
And if he knew, he wouldn’t be laughing.
Did Whitman scare the children in Louisiana as he walked down the street?
End of chapter fourteen.
Karta Crowleyho Tarotu je ….
…a ostrovy světel.
…za větrného dne větrná kapitola vítr za okny i vítr zde !
And I held astronaut Peters by the hand. Lubomír Tomik Chapter Eighteen Diligent wind. The diligent wind began to speak the cosmic language, it had a soft, quite pleasant accent. However, he spoke too much book. Apparently he went through hypnotic courses. -Good, so glad. Heaven as smooth as velvet, let's put all the Irish mists down and drink! Suddenly it rumbles all over the house. The busiest neighbors are already protruding from their apartments, but all they see is the elevator door cracking. The elevator hums and starts. It was small and annoying. Drops swirled dust on the exit bridge from the elevator exit, and the nearby forest and hills were shrouded in rain. The surf penetrated the sky like a shining star. -Nothing like this has happened yet. Never.- So back again tomorrow. Up. -Why right now? -the passenger from Earth asked. The huge hall is full of stylized life. In various, but always organized rhythms, computer machines are tinkling in unison. People who go with cards or simply pass them on move in exactly that rhythm. As if what was hidden behind the partitions was not full of living beings, but of components that fit together perfectly and move with perfect precision. Can you study the movement of shoppers in shopping malls? Do they behave predictably? The diligent wind began to speak the cosmic language again. -We are sending an extraordinary message, Citizens, we are sending an extraordinary message ….- Extraordinary.... End of chapter eighteen. XXX XXX XXXXX Karta Crowleyho Tarotu na publikaci mého hlasu Tobě je -
Faraonův pitevní stůl. Lubomír Tomik nikdo ho neprostřel, neuklidil, nepřichystal tělo na něm teplé roztékalo se oči ruce nohy hrnec mrkev uhlí, kdo zabil všechny sněhuláky ? kdo je vyhnal z faraonových zahrad, do zapomnění? do svištění větru přinášejícího oblevu ? XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX Pharaoh's autopsy table. Lubomír Tomik nobody shot him did not clean up, did not prepare body on it warm it was flowing eyes hands feet pot carrots coal who killed all the snowmen? who drove them out from the pharaoh's gardens, into oblivion? to the whistling of the wind bringing the gloom? XXXXXXXXX Karta na publikaci Poet Videa je ...jsou...Dva Meče ,,Mír"
Thanks for cooperation across the ocean, Lauren!
these past few days
have been a threat
to my existence, they’ve
been a threat
every which way it stands
you don’t know it but
[I nearly lost you]
& I don’t have money for the hospital
I don’t have the money
to see a [grease] doctor
Fuck it, a little plastic magic
never razed anyone
it’s 6 am on a holy Sunday
& these fries are fantastic
Is really great honor, cooperation with You!
Je mi ctí s Tebou přes vrcholky Alp spolupracovat, Natalie!
WHITE MAN In August At the beach I see you walking white like mozzarella that you set out for the catwalk. The sun gives up giving way to the moon for the tan. You're as white as milk. And move a little bit to the point of taking color since from a distance it looks like a street lamp. I've seen a lot of fair skins never like you.. you look like a whitener!
⬇️ CANALE YOU TUBE ⬇️
František Štorm zanechal velmi výraznou stopu i na tomto videu…od času 2.00 !
Osud . Lubomír Tomik osud je suché prásknutí výboje elektrického úhoře a na hladinou se třepotá tisíce motýlů, v letu, v extázi, elektřinou nebo proudem orgasmů ? XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX Destiny. Lubomír Tomik fate is dry burst of electric eel, and thousands of butterflies flutter on the surface, in flight, in ecstasy, of elektricity or a stream of orgasms? XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Fantom opery ...a tak. Lubomír Tomik prozpěvuješ si v pařížských kanálech, odrážíš se bidlem velkým jako mrakodrap v nesnázích, v nesnázích jsme, jsme však víš , fantom opery a tak.... XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX The phantom of the opera ... and so on. Lubomír Tomik you sing in the canals of Paris, you bounce with a perch as big as a skyscraper in trouble, we are in trouble we are But you know , phantom of the opera and so on .... XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXx
Poslal jsem Ti. Lubomír Tomik poslal jsem Ti dvě stě let starý romantický dopis dopis dopis, ale možná jsem se měl rozřezat motorovou pilou pilou pilou pilou , kousky těla poslat v obálce Adresa: Ty XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX I sent you. Lubomír Tomik I sent you two hundred years old romantic letter letter letter, but maybe I should cut with a chainsaw saw saw, send pieces of the body in an envelope Address: You. XXXXXXXXXXX Karta na publikaci řetězového Poet Videa je : https://probud.se/tarot1/crowleyho-tarot/velka-arkana/980-crowleyho-tarot-08-spravedlnost
V sklepě motorová pila, ráno ji položím na ponk. O několik hodin hledám text na dnešní čtení pro Tebe a narazím na – https://midianpoet.com/2018/04/22/poslal-jsem-ti-dopis/ , vzpomenu si na pilu, najednou byly slova rozkrájené,už bylo hotovo- vytiskl jsem, vzal rekordér, načetl a nahrál zvuk motorové pily, říkám si- Kdy to bylo napsáno ? –
Kdy ? 22.4.2018.
A o čtyři roky později, přesně na den vychází
Teď vzhůru do Studia Midian, zkompletovat zvuk,nakonec z toho bude nečekané Poet Video, nakonec jsem včera promazával fotografie a našel Kollinse na Josfstadu s motorovou pilou …..a všechny ty věci se propojily-parádní vystoupení , ta motorová pila byla rudá třešeň na dortu ! https://midianpoet.com/2021/08/12/dekuji-pane/
Karta je Viselec.
Kapitolu dvacet devět jsem právě četl opravdu minimálně po roce napřímo ve Studiu Midian a...vymklo se mi to z rukou, vžil jsem se tak do role, že náhlý zvrat ve vyprávění mne rozesmál. Tedy, kapitol není osmnáct , ale padesát sedm a ...budu,bude... je číst, kdokoli bude chtít, celé se bude postupně ukládat, něco ano něco ne a všechno dohromady pak bude audiokniha ,,A za ruku jsem držel astronautku Petersovou" ke stažení zdarma, budou přidány zvuky, hlasy, mixy, možná hudba...kdoví, za chvíli budu ležet na operačním stole a třeba se zase vzbudím do ....jiné reality,světa, třeba v troskách Madridu ! And I held astronaut Peters in hand Lubomír Tomik Chapter Twenty-Nine Letter addressed to Captain Alexander Yegorovich Schlipenbach. In the ruins of Madrid, 24.XI Late in the evening, on a scorching, passionately glittering, magical night. A letter from You po .after eternity of the dead Silence. Thanks! Thanks for not taking away my last conviction, the last faith I relied on in this world. How happy I was with your letter - joy unselfish! There is not a single news in it, nor could it be. No one can leave town. I have examined and judged everything that has been written in your letter and I have found that everything is vanity. I have not experienced anything that would bring me satisfaction, I have known the immense gap between the emptiness of my heart and the pleasures of human life, I have not longed for pleasure, I wanted to know, hope and love… She. So you, you worked, traveled and suffered. I'm happy about the first and second. The third one doesn't surprise me. And believe me. Poets never lie about emotions. Yes, I believed in you, in your heart, in your honesty, but your silence convinced me that you are not worth more than other men, that your heart is like many others, your honesty does not go so far as to prove it to my eyes to say- You're nothing to me anymore! - and I was very sorry! Believe me! We cling so tenaciously to illusions when we have so few left !!! Do you think intelligence is a cure for emotion? I know what London was like two years ago. Lack of food, few opportunities to hunt and collect fruit, dangerous insects, dirty water, snakes and above all uninhabited, overgrown, impenetrable entire city districts. I know all that. Imagine, Alexander, if you had a calm, flowering woman with children, and in the morning, in the morning, she would bring you coffee to bed. Big, warm and beautiful. Wouldn't that be wonderful? Maybe, maybe yes. When I imagined it, a mad fear seized me. You see, I don't think about love. For me, youth is there, my friend. And of his last illusions, all I have left is a deep and bitter memory and an incurable scar that marks the wounded place as a tombstone. Oh, oh yes. grave. This comparison is sad, but true. My heart is the grave in which all hopes of happiness lie frozen and cold. I confess to You that I do not know if I love You, but I know that I prefer You to all the men I know, and that I need Your affection. Adios, my treasure! Post scriptum: I read this letter and I have a thousand desires to burn it. Should I send it to you at all? I dont know, probably not. So I don't know what to do. I will hide it and then burn it, or I will give it to you, I will listen to the voice of my heart when I see you again and then I will burn myself. Good night, my love, I have a terrible migraine. Footnote. The charred sheet of paper on which the letter was written was found among the supplies of food delivered from Madrid aboard the Surf a few days before departure. Astronaut V.R.Peters Logbook, time… .. illegible. End of chapter twenty-nine. Karta na Publikaci je....