Čtení pro Tebe ,,A za ruku jsem držel astronautku Petersovou “ Kapitola 27, část III.

Chapter 27.part III.
-And now-said William-now we'll have a great meeting.-
We swallowed the tablets brought to us by the agent, it seemed to me that he was dancing, dancing despite the heavy and clumsy mask he was wearing and despite the heavy weight of his suit he made sharp and rhythmic movements, made elastic jumps and  ballet in tight panties, he made swirling turns in the air, and all seven hundred devils swirled with him, someone said - Oh yeah- and suddenly the seductive and exaggerated covetous devil's mistress Supay China danced by his side.

- That man can't be a bandit! "William said suddenly, whipping deftly. The monkeys scattered. He dragged the whip across the ground behind him like a snake. He caressed me with his forked tongue.
We found ourselves in a gloomy, dilapidated and dirty hotel run by two Turkish pimps.

At the reception, the girls stood in high-heeled shoes, smiling affectionately, showing off their naked, silver-gray bodies.
William touched one of them.
The girl looked at him as if bothering her.
- Do you want to know what time you are?
William shook his head.
-You have a damn lovely neck.- And he bent down quickly and kissed her in the soft fluff at the back.
The girl was angry.
- You know you shouldn't do this!
I took William aside.
-Let's go… .Bill… let's go! -.-
William nodded.
The silence is wonderful. Silence is a shrimp soup with noodles. NASA needed to know its minimum biological parameters for a number of purposes, from the survival of life in space and time to the first stage in the colonization of alien worlds.
But that was a long time ago.

Karta na publikaci je .....

Poet video ,,Měsíc není sarkofág“

Nahráno ve Studiu Midian. První část při psaní a vzniku básně, druhá při čtení , smícháno.

Měsíc není sarkofág.

Lubomír Tomik

Měsíc je jen měsíc,
ať je to čas,
ať je to planeta nebo není,

nejsou stržené nehty,
ani pohlazení,

nejsou oči,
ani vyteklé sklivce,

ani nádherné protisluncové brýle,
když svítí Měsíc,

nejsme zavřené sarkofágy v dunách,
Měsíc je jen Měsíc

má Tvůj úsměv v piruetách.


The moon is not a sarcophagus.

Lubomír Tomik

The moon is only the moon,
let it be time
whether it is a planet or not,

nails are not pulled,
not even a caress,

there are no eyes
not even spilled vitreous,

not even gorgeous sunglasses,
when the moon is shining,

we are not closed sarcophagi in the dunes,
The moon is just the moon

has your smile in pirouettes. 

WOW !  Karta ze 78 karet Crowleyho Tarotu....ze 78 karet, bezmyšlenkovitě ji otočím, -Aha.-
Karta je ,,Měsíc."
Ani mne ta možnost nenapadla, ale..... tak to vždycky je...to co chceme dostaneme, až to chtít přestaneme.

Čtení kapitoly 27., části II. ,,A za ruku jsem držel astronautku Petersovou.“

Fotografie od Pixabay na Pexels.com


And i held astronaut Peters by the hand.

Lubomír Tomik

Chapter 27, part II.

I called my London agent and told him about my troubles.
-My dear, it was terrible that I wasn’t here last afternoon. Would a five help you?-
-Hmmm.-I muttered into the handset.
-I’ll be there in a minute, -said the agent.
I hung up in the ghostly fork of a foggy London payphone and said to Bill-Let’s wait.-

So we were slowly lounging down the street and suddenly a little boy with a lamb in his arms passed us, I say, -Look, a real herdsman with a lamb in his arms… -and Bill said- Well yeah, those little grabs always fly around with lambs in their arms.-

Then we went to the place where a holy man or pious Mohammedan knelt and prayed towards Mecca, or the sun, who knows, and symbolically caught the light of the stars in a sack and classified it into two hundred and fifty different kinds of flashes and potatoes, including wild mountain varieties.
-Who’s-I’m talking-Assassin?-
-No-Bill tells me. -It’s a wandering sheriff’s pilgrim who preaches Allah’s Gospel to children, he’s a Hombre que rison, a man who preaches. They just come to them, stare at them and they disappear. chronicles in which they themselves could be.-
We went on with that desire and all that surrounded us, and suddenly someone appeared at the end of a street, a small male figure.

He was my agent.
He ran up to us and was excited.
-Here’s the money. I would show you things the Swedes never dreamed of. Come on.-
We followed him

End of part II.

Karta Velké Arkány Crowleyho Tarotu na publikaci slov ve větrném mrazivém válečném ránu kdy Putýn chrastí atomovkami jako kostmi z lapidária je….

Zpátky doma. Modří kouzelníci.

Zpátky doma. Modří kouzelníci.

Lubomír Tomik

vypni žluč na mobilním telefonu,

kamení se sype a valí v lomech a údolí hlubokých

bohapusté laviny

závaly ve štolách

trámy za noci,

prach dýcháš 
zpátky doma modří kouzelníci

dvě chvíle se střetly

exploze imploze

když se zdá že už je ztracenou vše,
ztratí se zbytky ztraceného,

nový úsvit , nové paprsky
prach prach prach 
částice jsme my sami
jen prach ve větru času

každé ráno je nový boj,
nikdy se nevzdat je to nejlehčí nejtěžší současně

moudré kouzelnice,

rozhazují hrsti prachu jako doprovodné efekty při svých vystoupeních

my ten prach dýcháme,
jak je to úžasné bloudit v lese slov,

ztratit se.


Back home. Blue magicians.

Lubomír Tomik

turn off bile on your cell phone

stones are poured and rolled in quarries and deep valleys

rich avalanche

landslides in the galleries

beams at night,

you breathe dust
  dust dust dust
back home blue magicians

two moments clashed

explosion implosion

when everything seems to be lost,
the remnants of the lost are lost,

new dawn, new rays

particles are ourselves
just dust in the wind of time

there is a new fight every morning
never giving up is the easiest hardest at the same time

wise sorceress,

scatter handfuls of dust as side effects during their performances,

we breathe the dust
how amazing it is to wander in the forest of words

get lost. 

Karta Crowleyho Tarotu na publikaci Modrých kouzelníků je….


Až se probudím z narkózy příště, všechno bude jako dříve. Žádný virus, žádná válka, vstanu a půjdu, žádné zlámané nohy, nic.

Poet Video ,, Robotic bar ! „

Robotic bar ! .

Lubomír Tomik

písty hydrauliky
písty hydrauliky toulavý jaguáre

dojení hadího jedu 
v robotic baru
ale zlo se musí nejdříve dostat do krve

šramot hydrauliky šramot kulek
šramot odcházejících jaguárů


Robotic bar ! .

Lubomír Tomik

hydraulic pistons
hydraulic pistons wandering jaguars

milking snake venom
in a robotic bar
but the poison must first enter the bloodstream

hydraulic rattle
rattle of departing jaguars 

Audio je česky i anglicky, čte stroj. Napsal L.T.
Objednáno Virgin Mojito.
Karta ,,Mág"


Čtení v mlze ….část první kapitoly 27 ,,A za ruku jsem držel astronautku Petersovou“.

Fotografie od Ollie Craig na Pexels.com


And I held astronaut Peters by the hand.
Lubomír Tomik

Chapter Twenty-seven Part One

Down here, on dark ground.

Down here, on the dark ground, there was no discernment for twenty paces, such was the fog. Only the streetlights and blinded car headlights formed blurred yellowish spots here and there.
Excited and back on our backs, Bill and I walked along Buckingham Palace Road and saw the long, deserted streets, nowhere, just the sweet star of Mary in front of us, and where it was in the morning when a girl poured red wine into my friend's mouth. from the Spanish wine bellows and still couldn't hit…
I was madly trying to enjoy the mist and clouds rolling in the Thames.
The downpour started and Bill and I just covered our covers with blankets. The water washed away thousands of cockroaches, spiders, and lizards, rats that began to roam the streets and crawl through the walls of houses where clouds of barely visible marigus flies swarmed and where malaria and rattlesnakes waited.
Somewhere in the gardens, the dogs howled incessantly.
So. Strange Sunday.

Long, red tongues licked the darkness, pointing to infinity, to the flames of tallow candles on which moths rub their wings.
The radio of an overturned car sang the service, and as we passed Big Ben, the two tall English cops watched us suspiciously with Scotland Yard's sinister smiles, as in the old Sherlock Holmes movies.
Where are they now, my wandering acrobats?
All the while, my mind was excited to think of England at dawn, of London, drowning in mist.
And I realized that it doesn't matter that we sin.

,,Napsáno před více jak deseti lety, jakákoli podoba s čímkoli je …JE.

A karta Crowleyho Tarotu audio, je ….

Míchání karet, otočení-

Cípy koberců.

Fotografie L.T. 2015 na Ukrajině poblíž Ivano-Frankovsku. Účastnili jsme se krátkého kulturního programu při otevření památníku českým legionářům, kteří na místě padli.


Cípy koberců.

Lubomír Tomik

cípy koberců tuší neplechu a spálené maso,

při nízkém průletu nad pouští víří se písek

kdo to asi bude zametat
pomyslí si

dávno nasadili hroty jehel na ústí samopalů

ježci civí na Měsíc
Měsíc civí na ježky
cípy koberců
city koberců
pod nehty
válka za humny,

přijde a kousne tě do zadku,
nebude něžná jako já

bude nenažraná, 
ta válka


Carpet tips.

Lubomír Tomik

the ends of the carpets sense mischief and burnt meat

the sand swirls at low flight over the desert

who will probably sweep it
they thinks

they had long ago pointed needle tips at the muzzle of submachine guns

hedgehogs staring at the moon
The moon stares at the hedgehogs

carpet tips
feelings carpets
under the nails
war for humny,

comes and bites You in the ass,
she won't be tender like me

will be uneaten
that war .

Karta Crowleyho Tarotu na slova o válce která se valí  nedaleko nás je....

,,Kolo Štěstí".... budeme ho potřebovat všichni a právě teď pořád.

Čtení v odpoledni, cesty časem a vůbec, jsme naživu.

,,A za ruku jsem držel astronautku Petersovou.“

Kapitola 26.

Plná časových vírů a cest a odboček a Andělů zkázy a pionýrských šátků a brusinek.

Fotografie od Jeswin Thomas na Pexels.com

Napsáno více jak před deseti lety , před virem a nesmyslnou válkou. Shoda s čímkoli je synchronicita , jména , věci, příjmení, činnosti.


And I held astronaut Peters by the hand.

Chapter Twenty-six

Attention! You are being watched!

Thunder rumbles. A storm is raging over London. Lightning crosses the sky, thunder chases thunder, but everything is about three or four seconds.
Then the roar of thunder passes to the drum break.
When the missing goat returned, she headed straight for the milkman. The milkmaid grabbed a heavy watering can, jumped on the steps, the goat hit the horns on the wall and stood.
And then Babka the milkmaid noticed that the goat had a piece of cardboard tied tightly on the corners, on which it was written in capital letters: -In the 1920s, radio signals were sent into space from our Earth in thirty seconds. After an hour, the signal began to return, but not as it was transmitted, but divided in such a way that its individual parts lasted for whole seconds, or their twelfth with second pauses. Such a signal could only be sent by someone who knows the twelve system and the division of hours into seconds.-
Turntables shouted in the meadows. The locomotives were moving. The turrets drove off. Moscow is moving away. The stars fade in the morning mist over the river. It's dawning.
It is dawn, but the sky is cloudy. Clouds. Heavy and pregnant with water.
-Yes, it's me.-says the brunette. -But…-
And he sinks his head under the terrified Captain's shoulder and rips at his lapel.
Last night's drum break fire.
The shepherd blew his horn at a wooden horn. It's dawn. Grandma's milkman opened the gate and drove the goat to the herd.
She looked scary and bloodthirsty.
Sparrow shimmered on the sparrows chinned by sparrows. A strong scent filled the air. So strong that I can feel it even after all these years. A pungent, irritating nose.
They walked through the green streets and suddenly plunged into a diluual struggle for a female. The roar of thousands of throats rises inartically to the gilded ceiling and grows stronger and stronger. It's anarchy! In one scene, in one sentence! Can the street have a gilded ceiling !?
The instincts merge again into one that is valid to just stand and watch the destruction.
And they are the women who are the loudest of them all. They whistle, whistle and scream!
- What plane?
-Mom-begging her daughter-make me a swing and I'll fly up, into space, like daddy, far away! -
-No! No! ”Cried the young woman with the face of a seabed statue near Piraeus, Greece.
-You can never fly as far as Daddy !!! -
Was her dad the radio signal? Did he come back divided into twelfths with second pauses? Who knows…
The brunette pulled a new sweater from her suitcase, nothing sensational, its color reminding me of bunches of reeds at drainage canals at dusk near Caorle. She shook it tentatively, held it at arm's length, and began to growl. She liked it.

That made Grandpa laugh. Chuckled and in a good mood, he began to stamp his wooden foot to the beat. Did it fit in the wormhole or not? No.

The brunette ran out of the garden, slammed her behind her, clenched her lovely fist, which, by the way, should be gripping something completely different, clenched her fist, threatened her grandfather, and shouted angrily, "They should lock you in the hospital and not let you run just like that. On my soul! You belong in a madhouse, under the castle.-
Back in five seconds. Jump in time.

That made Grandpa laugh. Chuckled and in a good mood, he began to stamp his wooden foot to the rhythm. It fell into the wormhole, didn't it? Yes.

The brunette ran out of the garden, slammed her behind her, clenched her lovely fist right in her heart, and called out to her grandfather: -I've been dreaming about you all this time, all the time… and you stand there and do nothing. I'm sorry for what we missed - and she disappeared in a light jump in the alleys of London.
My grandfather stuck out his tongue in an obscene gesture. - I don't know. In the end, I decided to cook this year! Cranberries, and so, I'll make compotes, a lot of everything, I bought all the literature. You just reach for the glass and it'll be there!

-I-says brunette-me, I loved doing it all. I liked it.-
-You're an angel of doom an unhappy girl -I'll tell her.
-Look at you! You have a pioneer scarf around your neck… but you are nothing but… .lump! -

When the young woman left when it was all over, the alley finally reached the plank under the old multi-storey barn, pulled a slingshot from her pocket, pulled on a rubber band, and fired a small plastic parachutist.
The parachutist flew upside down, crossed the clouds, and overturned. A small white paper parachute opened above him, but then the wind blew harder, slid it to the side, and the doll disappeared into the black dormer of the barn.
The doll must save!
But he had already disappeared in another space-time. Here.

-I loved to do everything — she runs her brunette and it's close to whining.
-Until it turned out that someone had a more expensive mat and four ropes… -
There was a bang in the room. The legs of a plastic doll protruded from the ceiling.

That day I decided: I will learn to read and write!

End of chapter twenty-six.
Karta Crowleyho Tarotu je ...

Zeměpisci. / for Write it all, for Mr. Psychotherapist / Welcome !

Fotografie od Monstera na Pexels.com

Zeměpisci. / for Write it all, for Mr. Psychotherapist /

Lubomír Tomik

Každý moment je
poklad v Ali Baobababově jeskyni zázraků,

zeměpisci neví, 

záleží na tom snad ?

Všechno zlato je třpyt v Jejích očích,
přikrytých baldachýnem modři nebe !


Geographers. / for Write it all, for Mr. Psychotherapist /

Lubomír Tomik

Every moment is
a treasure in Ali Baboabaobas's Cave of Miracles,

Geographers  ,
 dont know,

exactly where does it lie
after all,
does it matter?

all gold is glitter in Her eyes,
covered with a blue canopy of skye! 


Poet Video ,,Hostina smyslů“

Karta na publikaci videa je ,,CÍSAŘOVNA“ !

Hostina smyslů.

Lubomír Tomik

hostina smyslů
plná ryb dezertů a vína,
stůl pod náporem těl

přízraky ve tmě
přízraky ve tmě

šeptající postavy,


hostina smyslů plná objetí obětí polibků
někdy někde
tma je tma je tma

A feast of the senses.

Lubomír Tomik

feast of the senses
full of fish desserts and wine,
table under the onslaught of bodies

ghosts in the dark
ghosts in the dark

whispering characters,


a feast of the senses full of hugs from the victims of the kisses
sometimes somewhere
darkness is darkness is darkness 


z výklad karty „Teď přišel můj čas.“ Císařovnin cyklus je obdobím, kdy se jisté druhy tvůrčí činnosti stávají vášní a kdy pro vás budou mít smysl jen citově hluboké vztahy. Tato doba se také výborně hodí k tomu, abyste uzdravili své vztahy s důležitými ženami svého života, které byly doposud plné nedorozumění.

Dlažba v mešitě sultána Hassana, Káhira.

Tužka HB3544, formát A4, speciální trik Aleše Vencela.

Podle fotografie v knize J.A.Westa ,,Ezoterický Egypt“


Mešita v roce 1880.

Dlažba prý pochází z originálního leštěného mramoru , jímž byla obložena Rachefova pyramida.

Karta Crowleyho Tarotu na publikaci nečekané skici …je ….asi díky dnešnímu střihu videa z Faustova domu, velmi zajímavé video soubory, plné šumů, zvuků, stínu, protože karta je …


,,Tvořivá síla je schopnost udržovat v rovnováze magnetickou a dynamickou energii, které jsou součástí naší podstaty.„- z výkladu .

A situace- ovlivní válka na Ukrajině mou operaci, stejně jako to několikrát udělal covid ? Mám termín a jsou to zase dny čekání a když čekáš…nejlepší je NĚCO dělat, než půjdu do narkózy, mohl bych se taky vzbudit v docela jiném světě.

Karta Císařovna

Fotografie od Anna Nekrashevich na Pexels.com


Karta Císařovna.

Lubomír Tomik

po dlažbě kočičích hlav
přeběhne úsměv

vybroušený k dokonalosti,
vybroušený k tanci žiletek

po dláždění kočičích hlav
deštěm mokrých

když hmota mozku dopadne na žulové kostky udělá to




Empress card.

Lubomír Tomik

after paving the cat’s heads
a smile passes

honed to perfection,
sharpened to dance razors

after paving the cat’s heads
rain wet

when the brain mass hits the granite cubes it does


Karta Crowleyho Tarotu na publikaci slov v opravdu chladném únorovém ránu je…Trumfová karta je…

,,Kolo štěstí“


Budeme ho VŠICHNI potřebovat.

Večerní páteční čtení divoké kapitoly dvacáté páté ,,A za ruku jsem držel astronautku Petersovou“

Čtení ve Studiu Midian pro Tebe.


Napsáno střihovou metodou , jakou používal William Burroughs a je to dobrodružství protože se dá použít všelijaký materiál, to co přijde samo a před více jak deseti lety jsem poprvé četl poprvé tuto kapitolu…kde se vzala ? Podobnost s čímkoli kýmkoli či jakkoli je pouze náhodná. Jakou zvukový podkres použit zvukový archiv BBC, volně dostupné pro neziskové projekty, přesněji :

Drums – March tempo on drum. (120 paces per minute

Nigerian Crowds – Nigeria, speech with tom-tom drums.


And I held astronaut Peters by the hand.

Chapter Twenty-Five.

What did they seize?

In the dusty annals of the Inquisition Court of the Archdiocese of London, we read: -What's going on? Any lines or what?
"Horror," Peters says with attendance.
How was she ? Gorgeous, in a word. Incredibly amazing, in two words.
Silence falls. Old wall clocks hesitate.
It's one hour, eight minutes.
The cone of light made a dark, vague outline out of the gloom. The shape of the house.
The bass voice had just said: -Oh, you are my love. -The words stretched as if it were honey. Sweet.
She licked her red lips and began to shake.
Bobby clenched her fist and pulled away in terror. He approached and used her idle mouth.

She blinked, tears streaming down her reddened cheeks, stretching like honey. Salty.
Inside, a motionless silhouette of a little girl boils.
He tenses and Bobby climbs after him, deep into his body, into his world, deep into his soul, without hesitation.
-Yes.- Bobby nods.
Now there are two girls. Sitting on a red sofa. The one with the blond ponytail is Bobby.
He goes out to tip the gentlemen and whispers: -Dream.-
The word stretched like honey. Sharp, like tufts of grass.
The other girl had a belt around her hips.

-With her.-

Bobby suddenly sits ragged on the other sweaty body and thoroughly fucks him with an artificial limb.
So that was it. Just a heartbeat, a heartbeat and moments of white light during orgasms. From the paintings hanging from the walls, the black faces of the saints flash and descend, climbing behind Bobby.
Bobby in stripper costumes. Bobby in high heels and stockings with seams and in pointed bras and lace panties, bulky belts with all the clumsy clothes of the fifties. Bobby strung in full fetishist outfit-boots, corsets and leather gloves and latex leotards and braided reeds. Bobby strapped to chairs, tied to tables, stretched on wooden frames, chained and gagged, dressed in leather helmets and overshoes. Bobby ties other women into sensual, provocative poses, plugging their mouths with tape and scarves and more unlikely things.
Time flies. Especially in moments of pleasure.

What did they seize? Your souls and fantasies.

Bobby put on a leather corset. She put on high, tight shoes. She allowed me to tie my hands in a leather glove just behind her back. Then it was useless to defend myself when I shoved a gag-shaped gag deep into her throat. At first glance, the thing on the table looked like a leather chastity belt.
Bobby, suffocating with a gag, groaned as a double rubber limb entered. He tensed it to burst, penetrating in, so that both parts of it began to rub against each other through the thin wall.
And even as she trembled with  breathless, sweaty, Bobby nodded seriously.
She felt the force flowing from the invisible prey. Pale faces were covered in blush.
My girlfriend Bobby then finished her job.

It was a dark August night. Big stars fluttered brightly above the houses.
In August, the stars are always big and bright.
Bobby sighed and wiped her mouth with a slight movement of her hand.
She rose from the divan and descended from the ground.

Down on the river, the axes began to work again.

End of chapter twenty-five.
Karta Crowleyho Tarotu je ,,Vůz."


Poet Video z kavárny Slavia

https://cs.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kav%C3%… Kavárna Slavia.

Co víc dodat.

Mobilní telefon, aplikace ,,Rekordér“. Přímo na místě, kde sedával Václav Havel.


My eyes are falling,

you step into my dream

without grumbling,

without asking

can’t wait what hesitation

you give me sweets, as the pale blue velvet of the night covers the dying

Karta Crowleyho Tarotu na publikaci ….


Devítiocasé Poet Audio

Nahráno ve Studiu Midian, TEĎ.Najednou.


Jediný večer.

Lubomír Tomik

jediný den,
kdy oči 
jsou devítiocasé kočky

a zatím spí,
stočené do klubka

jediný den,
a zdá se jim sen jen

o kouscích masa letících vzduchem,
o cárech trnů kde 
rudé růže kůže
vyrostly ,

v jediný den


One evening.

Lubomír Tomik

one day
when eyes
are nine-tailed cats

and still sleeping
curled into a ball

one day
and they have a dream only

about pieces of meat flying through the air,
about lines of thorns where
red rose skin
grew up

in a single day 

Trumfová  Karta Crowleyho Tarotu na publikaci devítiocasých slov je ...


Páteční čtení dopisu určeném poručíku Goškevičovi. ,, A za ruku jsem držel astronautku Petersovou“ Kapitola 22.

Fotografie od Burst na Pexels.com

Napsáno více jak před deseti lety, shoda jmen událostí příjmení a skutků je náhodná, nebo je to klasická synchronicita. Také publikace zrovna dopisu poručíkovi Goškevičovi, Rusovi, je náhodná,je to část příběhu, na tento dopis v jiné kapitole následuje odpověď. Jsem PROTI jakékoli válce kdekoli, na Ukrajině zvlášť , Bohdane, držím Ti palce !

Chapter 22.
And I held astronaut Peters by the hand.

Lubomír Tomik

Chapter Twenty-two.

Letter addressed to Lieutenant Osip Goshevich.

January. London.

Dear friend !!!!
I will take advantage of the visit of one of my former maids, who is less blunt than the maids I have now, and I will ask her to deliver these few lines to you.
Please excuse the inconsistency of this letter, its fragmentation and stylistic shortcomings. It's weird, I know, it's the same as my head, I'm so confused about it. Plus, I'm in a bad mood today.
Hardly in any other nation is there as much general beauty as in England. Do not judge the beauty of the English, according to the red-haired gentlemen and ladies who desert from England under the name of captains, engineers, teachers and educators - these are rubbish, a pretty woman does not have to run away from England, beauty is capital.
It is said that English women are distinguished by the size of their feet, I do not know if this is true. It seems to me that this is partly a prejudice, mainly because no other women show off their feet like English women. As they cross the muddy street, they lift their skirts so high that they provide the perfect opportunity to see their feet.
The English women are mostly tall, slender, but a little proud and calm — in the words of many connoisseurs, even cold. Coldly!!!
The color of the eyes and hair is extremely diverse - some are perfect brunettes, but they are also extraordinarily white and have a bright, beautiful blush.
Whenever I see a pretty English woman, it seems to me that I see Captain Kopejkin.

Because I lived as a traveler in hotels, I had few opportunities to observe women closely, except for housewives in inns, saleswomen in shops, and so on. These two maids run around me like two mail horses, repeating murderously to my every word like magpies: -Yes, Sir… .No, Sir… -

But why these words, my dear… where have I sharpened it? What am I describing?
Of course, I saw how callously you rejected my suggestions that my crazy passion put into my previous writings, I heard your confessions that you have secrets in front of me that I am not worthy to know… Fifteen years later I am writing for you and it is a fact , you told me I'd know right now, I'm on fire, I'm on fire, tell me.
You should rejoice and be proud, for the absolute power you have over me, over my will, must fill you with pride. Who you are? What kind of power is that? Who gave it to you? You are not human… no… in my eyes, no! You are the Angel of my Destiny!

Copies and women's blouses have always made me sad.
I always finish writing more tenderly than I should, and you, ungrateful, are abusing my tenderness and doing what you like and not what I want.
don't be lazy and come see your friend…

Still passionately, the days do not take away from the passion, on the contrary, more and more passionately,

all your…
Your Captain

Post scriptum: The general impression of the appearance of London and its population is strange, two million people live here, London is a center of world trade and guess what is not visible on it?
Life-actually its tumultuous boiling. Trade is seen, but there is no life, otherwise you must conclude that trade is life here, as it really is. Life here… does not strike your eyes.
There is a relative silence, all actions are somehow quiet, serious. Apart from the inevitable noise caused by horses and carriage wheels, almost nothing else can be heard. The city seems to be holding its breath and pounding its pulse as a living being. There is no needless shouting and no need for movement. Everything seems to be budgeted, weighed, and valued, as if voice and facial expressions were paid for just as much as windows and rims on wheels.
Adios and goodbye, yes? Goodbye Goodbye Goodbye. And now remember for a moment that even in your disobedience, Yours too loves You.
Oh, a ton of delights when my mind wanders to You….

End of chapter twenty-two. 
Karta Crowleyho Tarotu na publikaci  slov, určených ruskému poručíku, ať se všem ruským vojáků líbí nohy kapitána Kopejkina je...


Na cestě do Faustových domů!

Na nádvoří Faustova domu. Dveřmi s přístřeškem uprostřed fotografie procházel magistr Kelley. Právě začalo vznikat Poet Video z Faustova domu. Zevnitř Faustova domu, https://cs.wikipedia.org/wiki/Faust%C5%AFv_d%C5%AFm

četl jsem tam tyto slova napsané pro…


Cesty do Faustových domů.

Lubomír Tomik

vem si mne vem si mne vem si mne 
vem si mne vem si mne vem si mne

skrze ocelové mraky,
oblohou zataženou pojďme k hostině ve čtvrté dimenzi

láska je Zákon,
Tvá ruka,
láska pod Vůlí,
Tvá ruka něžně snítky jmelí rozpůlí

granitové pozdravy z minulých věků,
citlivá krása všech TEĎ

vem si mne ,
třeba do pekel,
třeba do středověku

vem si mne jako kámen do kapsy kabátu,
táhne tě k hladině

vem si mne vem si mne vem si mne vem si mne vem si mne vem si mne vem

Ty už jsi si mne přece vzal !

Co bude dál ?

/ Hluboký pekelný smích /


Trips to Faust's houses.

Lubomír Tomik

take me take me take me

take me take me take me

through steel clouds,
let's go to the feast in the fourth dimension

Love is the Law,
Your hand
Love under the Will,
Your hand will halve the mistletoe of the mistletoe

granite greetings from past ages,
sensitive beauty of all NOW

take me
to hell, for example
perhaps to the Middle Ages

take me like a stone in your coat pocket,
pulls you to the surface

take me take me take me
take me take me take me

You already take me!

What will be next ?

/ deep devilish laughter /

Synchronicita na začátku…. je to už týden, co jsem četl tyto slova uvnitř, možná je čas, začít…ve stejnou chvíli kdy se snažím téma uchopit, podívat se na něj z různých úhlů, napadne mne – ženský hlas, měl bych se zeptat D.O. zda nechce vstoupit do Faustova domu…a ona mi v té samé chvíli zavolá.

O pár minut později se už bavíme vážněji ,o spolupráci, vše vypadá zajímavě…-Otoč si kartu ! – otočím ji a…


…,,karta jako jediná v celém souboru v sobě zahrnuje změnu a transformaci, která už proběhla.“

Pojďme na to!


Díky panu inženýru Jaroslavu Kováři, který ve Faustově domě pracuje, poskytl mi spoustu zajímavých informací !

NE, válce na Ukrajině !

Na Ukrajině jsem byl s delegací Ministerstva Vnitra ČR v roce 2015, při odhalování pomníku českým legionářům. Nedaleko míst na fotografiích dnes ráno dopadaly ruské střely, útok na letiště v Ivano-Frankivsku.

Klidné tiché město plné žlutých autobusů.


Ne ne ne, strýčku Putine,

vzpomeň na Benita na benzinové pumpě,

milenka za nic nemohla,

co měla společného s šílencem ?

Přesně tak, nic.

Co máš společného s šílenstvím,

zdá se,


Škrtí tě.

Ukrajina, Zborov. https://cs.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bitva_u_Zborova

Také Ukrajina, projížděli jsme autobusem kolem sochy a byla…obrovská, majestátní .

NE! Válce na Ukrajině!

Poet Video on Bus Stop to Future- ,,Vdova.“


Lubomír Tomik

žádná aktuální ani nová oznámení 
na betonových sloupech,

žádné nové plakáty ,
přestala budoucnost existovat ?

žádné plakáty, dvě možnosti-
buď není lepidlo, nebo došel papír !

nebo jsme se zaslíbili vdově s dřevěnýma nohama?

na zastávkách žádní cestující, básníci nebo autobusy,

zdá se jako by explodovalo slunce.



Lubomír Tomik

no current or new notifications
on concrete columns,

no new posters
has the future ceased to exist?

no posters -two options-
Either there is no glue or out of paper!

or.... did we promise a widow with wooden legs?

No passengers, poets or buses at the stops,

the sun seems to explode. 

Trumfová karta Crowleyho Tarotu na publikaci je ,,Velekněz" a jsme na správné cestě !
I když ráno začala válka.


Čtení v den , kdy začala Válka. ,,A za ruce jsem držel astronautku Petersovou.“ Kapitola 16.

Fotografie od Castorly Stock na Pexels.com


Chapter 16.


And I held astronaut Peters in my hand.

Chapter Sixteen. Music.

There is no music that expresses what it’s like in the morning.
The sky is blue, cloudless. The wings of seagulls flutter on that pitch. And on the red mast, the tin mouths of the beacon emit happy tones.

As we bounced off the ship and I looked back, almost the entire team grinned at me at the bar. The sheer scale of the crime, the unbelievability, and most importantly the futility, made no one understand its meaning.
On the first day that the news of the spaceport explosion spread at dawn, and when many people saw the dark spaceship shrouded in blue glow taking to the sky, Mr. Marek was still trying to reject what was clear.
Although in the end it is too pathetic and banal.

The officer who commanded the spaceport guard three days ago suddenly disappeared. He was detained at night in the valley behind the lake. He was still silent in the morning. During the day, Majesty himself spoke to him. It promised him life. Those were big words.
The officer asked for a glass of water.
Evidence had to be gathered now. The officer had to be taken to the ruins of Buckingham Palace immediately after promising to divulge details of the conspiracy.
The soldier brought water and set the glass on the table.
The officer held her to his lips, drank, and died.
He was poisoned.

  • Crazy people – Mr. Marek was angry – are you at sea?
    -I can’t answer this question-because I don’t know. „I said. It was true.

The tallow candles on the table burned a good chunk, the cicadas fell silent, and the mosquitoes stopped buzzing.
The captain paused and did not speak for almost three minutes. Everyone else was silent at all times, because no one even thought of opposing the captain.
Only the strange hollow blows in the next room somewhat spoiled the idyll of silence- Buch! – Book! Book! Book! –
The captain collapsed suddenly. He fell both wide and long.

-You live, do you live? Say something! –
He opened his eyes: -It hurts… I need to see a doctor.-
They arrived at the hospital in half an hour.
They hurried up the stairs to the round hall in the lobby.
The medical department was brightly lit.
It looked quite ordinary. Ambulance and white door to the ward.
The doctor stepped forward to meet us.
There was confusion.

A policeman and a paramedic, both holding the hands of a frowning man in a green medical pose. As it turned out, the man had broken into a spaceport dispatcher’s room ten minutes ago and stabbed him with an unmarked injection.

A long line of thirty boxers in sweaters runs into the picture, led by a tiny, skinny trainer with a strict, ascetic face and a whistling rhythm of steps.
It’s a boxing fanatic voice band. -Kill him! Pack! To the paper! Shit! Destroy him! Wipe! Take peace with him!
The paratroopers approach, fire the first sleeping bullets and some of the boxers fall, but others run to the paratroopers and punch their helmets and plastic spacesuits with their fists.
Then the piercing sound of a whistle ends the battle.
Helene Blehárová walks away, sending air kisses to Mr. Mark.

The coach takes the whistle from his mouth and shouts at his charges- And that there is concentration, you don’t mind !? He coughs for training… –
And that’s just the beginning.
Another man in a green toga is hanging out by the elevator.
The fanatical boxing voice band is quietly silent.
Mr. Marek withdraws offended.
The coach squints at him and the man in the green toga spits on the floor.
And Mr. Marek looks around and longs for participation.
An invisible convoy of cars whizzes along the Zbraslav highway.
Beatnik angel Peter Orlovsky buys ice cream a little further away.

Crowd noise and recorded music mixed with police cries.
The crowds move to the stairs at the lobby.
The paratroopers have to help the doctors, they can hardly sustain the onslaught either.
Lots of people are trying to escape without a pass.
At the iron bars to the entrance to the hospital, it sounds like a hive.
The crowd discovered Strongman Beda.
Suddenly, the photo flashes start flickering. Strongman Meda will pose.
Above all, the screams and calls of the police.
-Come back! Liberec is missing you –
-Catch the car AB 36-89.-
-That’s all we want from you. Leave your eyes here. Your mind.-

It was a big fuss.

End of chapter sixteen.


Nahráno čteno a nahráno ve Studiu Midian. Použity zvuky z Archivu BBC, sea, beach,gulls.


Karta Crowleyho Tarotu na publikaci je …. ,,Poustevník“ a objeví se i ,,Mág“. Kombinace dvou karet, nečekané.



Titulky všude neříkají nic jiného, válka válka válka – vybavilo se mi najednou, jak již zesnulý Milan Horák sledoval začátek války v Iráku na CNN a byl fascinován zelenými stíny odpalovaných raket z válečných lodí, první válka v přímém přenosu….a jak jdou technologie dále, tato válka se odehrává už ani ne na tv , ale na displejích mobilních telefonů ať už jako zprávy NEBO záběry točené všem dostupnou technologií přímo na místě bojů, není to už vážně trochu moc ? Co bude dál, až válka zaklepe na dveře, toto není počítačová hra, v níž by byl možný nový další život.

Když jsem se probral z komatu a po nějaké době začal covid, vše se zdálo tak neskutečné a najednou válka na místech, kde jsem před sedmi lety byl,

Tarot- teď



Putýn je Blázen.

River boat day.

Fotografie od Tom Fisk na Pexels.com
Čteno a nahráno ve Studiu Midian. Napsáno v Praze.Zvuky říčních čluů a sirén pochází ze zvukového Archivu BBC , volně dostupné pro neziskové projekty , konkrétně Boats: Canals: Narrow Boats – Canal Narrow Boat: One canal boat manoeuvring, exterior, Ship sirens.


Den říčních člunů.

Lubomír Tomik

sirény nad vodou,
zahoukaly a odpluly
zanechaly pobřeží pustá

prostá vzdálených hřmění,
s nákladem vzpomínek

skoky do hřídelí
lodních šroubů,

vodní masomlýn jede na plný výkon,

jsme ty nejvíce naložené říční čluny
a když zakotvíme na chvíli bezpečně v přístavech

za chvíli znovu zvuk sirén nad vodou se tříští o rákosí,
jeho šumění ve větru snese všechno

i vodu, 
hrnoucí se do podpalubí,


River boats day.

Lubomír Tomik

sirens over water,
they croaked and set sail
they left the coast desolate

free of distant thunder,
with a load of memories

jumps into shafts

the water mill is running at full power,

we are the most loaded river boats
and if we anchor safely in ports for a while

after a while the sound of sirens above the water again crashes against the reeds,
its murmur in the wind can withstand everything


Karta Crowleyho Tarotu na publikaci slov vodních cest je ,,Eso Disků".