Zpátky k bleše.
Lubomír Tomik
zpět k bleše,
médium řeklo:
,,Jsi pokrytý šupinami minulosti, svlékni je .Podívej se jí do očí,
rozpusť se v nich a buď hora."
zpět k bleše,
médium už chrčelo
,,Jsi hora, obleč si laviny, obleč si bouře, obleč si výhled do kraje"
zpět k bleše,
médium se svalilo k zemi z úst u pěny
,,Jsi kraj , jsi všechno, jsi zemská osa, jsi smrtky kosa."
Konec představení, blechy zpátky do krabičky !
A zpátky k bleše,
rozmáčkla mne ,
na svém nehtu,
plachtě Naglfaru.
...........................................................................
Back to the flea.
Lubomír Tomik
back to the flea
medium said:
"You're covered in the scales of the past, take them off. Look into her eyes,
dissolve in them and be a mountain."
back to the flea
the medium was already grunting
"You are a mountain, wear avalanches, wear storms, wear a landscape"
back to the flea
the medium tumbled to the ground from the mouth at the foam
"You are the country, you are everything, you are the axis of the earth, you are the scythe of death."
End of the show, fleas back in the box!
And back to the flea,
She crushed me
on your nail
sail of Naglfar.
.............................................................................................
Tullstorp rimestone, Sweden, picture above William Blake ,,Duch blechy“
Kosa za úsvitu.
Lubomír Tomik
kosa v extrému,
zapomněl ji Sekáč
a když jsme ji našli,
svítalo
kosa v rose
a když jsme ji zvedli,
slunce vyšlo
rosa v kose
a když po jejím zrezivělém ostří přejely první sluneční paprsky,
byla naostřená a zmizela
nestihli jsme si udělat fotografii malé zlaté destičky
,,Nesahat, nebo Vám useknu ruku u samého zadku a pak Vás vezmu na cestu bez návratu ! "
obyčejná kosa za úsvitu,
TA louka bude asi velká
..................................................................................................
Scythe at dawn.
Lubomír Tomik
scythe in extreme
The Reaper forgot
and when we found her
it was dawn
scythe in the dew
and when we picked her up
the sun came out
dew in the scythe
and when the first rays of sunlight passed over its rusted blade,
it was sharpened and disappeared
we didn't have time to take a photo of the little gold plate
"Don't touch, or I'll cut off your hand at the ass and then I'll take you on a journey of no return!" "
common scythe at dawn,
THAT meadow will probably be big
Optimistická okna nebo smutná?
Lubomír Tomik
smutná okna malých smrtí
cvakají zuby
a růžovými dásněmi jako o závod
rozšlapané žvýkačky na zemi a když se přilepíš na chodník,
nemůžeš se hnout
smutná okna se chechotají
okenicemi práskají o rámy smíchy hotová
pak se přidají namyšlená okna plastová
až se na sklo vysype chodník už jsi dávno pryč
v plastových oknech to hrkne,
zavřou se a stáhnou žaluzie,
nevidí, naše tajemné meškající konvoje
smutná okna nebo optimistická,
rozhodni sama
rozhodni,
zda jsem Tebe hoden
............................................................................
Optimistic windows or sad?
Lubomír Tomik
sad windows of small deaths,
teeth chattering
and pink gums like a race
trampled chewing gum and when you stick to the pavement,
and you can't move
sad windows are giggling
the shutters crack against the frames with laughter done
then fancy plastic windows are added
by the time sidewalk spills onto the glass, you're long gone
it rattles in the plastic windows,
they close and draw the blinds,
they don't see our mysterious late convoys
sad windows or optimistic,
decide for yourself
decide
am i worthy of You, my girl
.................................................................
The devil.
Picture from Promethea- is a comic book series created by Alan Moore, J. H. Williams III and Mick Gray, published by America’s Best Comics/WildStorm.“ Number 12
A všichni ti básníci.
Lubomír Tomik
a všichni ti básnící pod hvězdnatým nebem,
byli, jsou a budou,
bratři stále na odchodu,
pěšáci v nerovných bitvách-
jsme ocejchováni černým znamením Poezie,
jsme ti poéti na prknech tohoto světa,
a tak to musí být,
najdeme můzu která nás provází na vrchol vize,
blázniví lezci po skalách dní provokující smrt
z vrcholu vize se můžeme vrhnout dolů,
možná se rozmázneme o dno,
možná tam také čeká hromada peří,
dokud neskočíš,
nevíš
odrážím se každé ráno a padám
......................................................................
And all those poets.
Lubomír Tomik
and all those poets under the starry sky,
were, are and will be
brothers still on the way
pawns in unequal battles-
we are branded with the black mark of Poetry,
we are the poéts on the boards of this world
and so it must be
we find the soul that accompanies us to the top of the vision,
crazy rock climbers of death provoking days
from the top of the vision we can plunge down,
maybe we'll fade to the bottom
maybe there's a pile of feathers waiting too,
until you jump
you don't know
I bounce every morning and fall
...........................................
Picture from Promethea- is a comic book series created by Alan Moore, J. H. Williams III and Mick Gray, published by America’s Best Comics/WildStorm.“ Number 12
from Promethea- is a comic book series created by Alan Moore, J. H. Williams III and Mick Gray, published by America’s Best Comics/WildStorm.“ Number 12
Vytvořeno ve Studiu Midiam. Chrome music lab, LT. Napsal, čte pro Tebe.
Lyrics:
There must be something.
Lubomír Tomik
something terrible,
something wonderful,
when tears embrace together
something wonderful
something unexpected
touch me
burn me with a dark flame
in dreamland
where we may remember our death?
remember
.......
,,Lust." je karta Crowleyho Tarotu .
Chtíč je skutečný, to ví každý z nás.
Fotografie od Kyle Roxas na Pexels.com,,Jezera plná hvězd.“ Vzniklo během okamžiku ve Studiu Midian. Čte a dokončuje LT za zvuku z archivu BBC, konkrétně : Lake – Red-winged Blackbirds, Canada Geese and other birds including Blue Jay at end. Spring: Early Morning K použití pro neziskové projekty, jako je tento.
lyrics :
Lakes full of stars.
Lubomír Tomik
stars full of lakes,
mixed feelings on Eternity
the waves wash out the glitter,
and when you walk on the shore
in sand,
Your ankles turn to Herm's anklets,
tied with silver cords
.../with shoelaces ... strange...-ooooo -with shoelaces....- let's leave it there /
silver cords
/ read for the third time....and the "laces" didn't fit there, in the end they did. /
..............................
And now something completely different.
Orion.
Záběry katedrály Sv.Štěpána ve Vídni natočila D.O., děkuji !
Blesky nad Starým Městem ,napsal a vše ostatní LT. Ne že bych blesky způsobil, jen jsem je natočil .
Zvuky ve videu z Archivu BBC , volně k použití pro neziskové účely, konkrétně , cesta časem - do roku 1950 :Weather 2 - Storms - WHITBY !!!!!!Lighthouse's Foghorn sounding. (Elliptical horn, c.1950s.) (Distant perspective.)
Lyrics:
Through the Dragon Pass.
Lubomír Tomik
buttons in the eye sockets,
you turned on enough
you are generous
you shake the written word here and there,
photo after a year
I'm definitely more with you than you are with me
i understand
everything happens around
I'm not lying on my back in the Temple of the Jaguar at all,
a perfect day without you
in the eye sockets the buttons roll out,
when one grabs me by the hands and the other by the legs,
the buttons aim
dragon pass
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A karta Crowleyho Tarotu je... THIS IS THE DEATH CARD !
from Promethea- is a comic book series created by Alan Moore, J. H. Williams III and Mick Gray, published by America’s Best Comics/WildStorm.“ Number 12
Arab.
Lubomír Tomik
vidím bezedné propasti mezi námi všemi,
když procházím chodbami,
v nichž září mladí lidé ztracení v čase a prostoru,
uvěznění uvnitř sebe a nemůžou křičet,
svým způsobem v Tangeru
ani nevíte kolik máte štěstí
nakonec jsem Arab také,
masivní kus nevyužitého nábytku
s kterým nic nepohne v kouzelných horách ,
propastech na konci rozkvetlých luk,
jimiž se nakonec projdeme všichni
PS: Tak daleko jsem se nedostal, ovšem v nemocnici jsem mluvil s chlapíkem, který klinickou smrt prožil , několik minut ticho na přístrojích , rovná čára a všechno bylo stejné, popisoval věci které jsem viděl taky , ale na rozkvetlou louku jsem se nedostal ani k propasti za ní.
Po smrti tunel, pád do světla, pak rozkvetlá louka a za ní propast, dobrodružství životem nekončí, nakouknul jsem jen za oponu....a teď je ze mne Arab v Tangeru.
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Arab.
Lubomír Tomik
I see the bottomless chasms between us all
as I walk the halls,
in which shine young people lost in time and space,
trapped inside and unable to scream
in a way in Tangier
you don't even know how lucky you are
after all i am arab too,
a massive piece of unused furniture
with whom nothing moves in the magic mountains,
the chasms at the end of blooming meadows,
which we all go through eventually
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PS: I didn't get that far, but in the hospital I talked to a guy who experienced clinical death, a few minutes of silence , a straight line and everything was the same, he described the things I saw too, but I didn't even get to the blooming meadow the abyss behind her.
After death, a tunnel, a fall into the light, then a blossoming meadow and an abyss behind it, the adventure of life does not end, I only peeked behind the curtain... and now I am an Arab in Tangier.
A nejen.
Lubomír Tomik
nejen hřmění,
nejen dunění nad hlavou,
příval, smrt a kataklyzmata
Měním realitu.
TEĎ!
Říkám nahlas ta slova,
zní pokojem
zní jako hromy a blesky a kataklyzmata,
POKUŠENÍ.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
And not only.
Lubomír Tomik
not just thunder
not just a rumbling overhead,
flood, death and cataclysms
I change reality.
NOW !
I say these words out loud
sounds through the room
sounds like thunder and lightning and cataclysms,
TEMPTATION.
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from Promethea- is a comic book series created by Alan Moore, J. H. Williams III and Mick Gray, published by America’s Best Comics/WildStorm.“ Number 12
Crowd in Tangier.
Lubomír Tomik
we are a crowd in Tangier,
we're heading for another alley,
above us grains of silver ways
from flying carpets,
palms wipe dust
from everything,
of magic lamps of memories
we are a crowd in Tangier
heading for the dead ends of death
two or three sandstorms in our pockets,
kisses with chapped lips
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Tři dny se sešly v jediné minutě! Hudba z archivu BBC volně dostupná pro neziskové účely, Panova píštala a zvonkohra v PC LT, smícháno ve Studiu Midian.
Napsáno a čteno ve Studiu Midian, kovový brouk je z KOVOZOO
from Promethea- is a comic book series created by Alan Moore, J. H. Williams III and Mick Gray, published by America’s Best Comics/WildStorm.“ Number 12. Střídá se s ,,Uměním.“Teď.
Včera byly pokreslené, v noci pršelo. Nezbylo skoro nic. Zvuk smíchán ve Studiu Midian.
Čte L.T. Kamera P.L.
Lyrics:
Cobblestones.
Lubomír Tomik
green as a clearing
green like leaves before and after the rain
every cube in the street
is a step into the rhythm of chansons
granite casts glare,
quartz rattles like a heart at the bottom of coffee
when you stop
the idea is like a granite cube
find bone reconstruction museum chalk drawing
green as a clearing
green like your eyes
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Karta Crowleyho Tarotu na publikaci je... ,,Smrt."
https://probud.se/tarot1/crowleyho-tarot/velka-arkana/985-crowleyho-tarot-13-smrt
Má-li.
Lubomír Tomik
Má-li
oči,
musí mít hlavu,
hlavu,
musí mít cerebrum
cerebrum,
musí mít bílou a šedou hmotu
má-li šedou a bílou hmotu,
nazuje si botu.
V mozkových komorách stále hluk a ryk
ozvěna jména ,
žiji v pavučině pavučin synaptických spojení,
poslední romantik.
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If She has.
Lubomir Tomik
If She has
eyes,
she must have a head,
head,
she must have a cerebrum
cerebrum,
she must have white and gray mass
If she has gray and white mass,
She puts on his shoe.
In the brain chambers still noise and Her voice,
the echo of the name,
I live in a web of cobwebs of synaptic connections,
last romantic.
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Karta Crowleyho Tarotu na lavinu slov je.... ANO ! I když se to zdá nevhodné, karta ,,Smrt" v tuto chvílí jen ,,ANo!"
On a happier note.
Lubomír Tomik
Sun and shadow
in the meadow of imagination
between life and death
after passing through the tunnel,
where they come to life
magic plants,
fantasy flowers
and on them
pollen of ideas
anf We,
Sisters and Brothers,
We harvest it.
Včera jsem mluvil s člověkem, který si prošel klinickou smrtí, dostal se o něco dál, prošel tunelem, ale nevrátil se jako já – ,,Pak byla rozkvetlá louka, šel jsem přes ni až k propasti , jen na dohled.Dál ne. Je to skutečné místo!“ Pak ho oživili .
Vzbudil jsem se s myšlenkou, že právě toto je místo, kde se berou nápady, místo fantazie,imaginace.
Mažu starší fotky v telefonu a…jeden pavouk s ,,Večeří u Minského“ , jeden černobílý. Karta Crowleyho Tarotu je ,,Smrt.“
Promethea is a comic book series created by Alan Moore, J. H. Williams III and Mick Gray, published by America’s Best Comics/WildStorm.…
Je to docela vhodná karta.
Jedno končí,aby mohlo začít něco jiného.
A synchronicita…. na pokoji v nemocnici ležím s chlapíkem, který prožil klinickou smrt. Máme stejné zážitky.Tunel, světlo ,já do něj nešel, on ano a ocitl se na rozkvetlé louce.
Na přídi slunečního korábu.
Lubomír Tomik
pouta předsudků,
celé dny
uložená v schránce času,
v datech,
v informacích,
v dešifrovacích kódech,
pečetích babylonských bran
jsme jen shluky buněk s pamětí,
vědomí buňky která je buňkou větší buňky,
černá buřinky
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
At the bow of a solar ship.
Lubomír tomik
bonds of prEjudice,
all days
stored in the time boX,
in the data,
in the information
in decryption codes,
seals of the Babylonian gates
we're just clusters of cells with memory,
consciousness of the cell which is the cell of the larger cell,
black bowler hat
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Co když.
Lubomír Tomik
Co když je,
po smrti i smrt ?
Kdo jí zatančí,
šavlový tanec ?
Co když je jen,
zaběhnutý dostihový chrt ?
Pro smrt si přišla jiná smrt,
-,,Padla, zavíráme."- řekla.
Chtěla se poškrábat za ušima,
žádné neměla.
-Chjó.- si povzdechla.
Drželi jsme všechno na špičkách jazyků.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
What if.
Lubomír Tomik
What if it is,
death is dead?
Who will dance her,
sabre dance ?
What if it's just
a well-established greyhound?
Another death came for death,
-"Its over, we're closing,"- she said.
She wanted to scratch her ears,
she didn't have any.
-OGooooood.- she sighed.
We kept it all at the top of the tongues
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX.
A za ruku jsem držel astronautku Petersovou. Kapitola dvacet . Část druhá.
And I held astronaut Peters by the hand.
Chapter twenty. Part three.
The girl woke up all night in the bushes in the dark agony. They were looking for her, no doubt about it. She eagerly drank the icy voices brought to her by the wind and walked along the road. Her face had the charm of the moon, pensive craters of eyes filled with love for Allen, she could think of nothing but him, Allen, oh God, Allen, she couldn’t kick him out of her mind as she became in love, wherever she looked everything reminded her of him. Gorgeous white neck, and then, everything else, who wouldn’t want to be a woman? -You thought. Her heart was beating so violently, so violently, so violently, she put her hand on him and felt him, her heart beating, put her hand in and suddenly you feel alive — she told herself — but she knew how it would end.
His hot, hot lips.
She knew she would never see Allen again. It was still despair here. Allen yesterday in the woods. She will return from the darkness, grow into a man and be with her, he will be with her until her head is spinning. Like I’m spinning now. A gray dawn full of harsh voices crept around. They were looking for her. She saw a figure named Freedom disappear into the trees. And the birds roared. When they caught up with her, they knocked her to the ground and then the three of them rushed at her. Fainted. The treacherous moon cast their shadows across the forest. The girl’s throat screams. The sound of her wounded heart sounded like Death was gnashing its teeth. She didn’t know how long it took. When she opened her eyes, she was somewhere else and all three were dead. Their bodies lay torn around.
Transylvania 1895.
I stood over her and smiled. There was nothing else to do. The leaves rustled, the forest roared in silence, the divers down by the river made such disgusting sounds that for a moment I thought I had mistaken the coordinates of space-time. I took her with me. Here, she will like it here. The moon rose over the jagged rock, illuminated the contours of the ruins, and she looked at me. I snapped my fingers in front of her eyes and disappeared into another story.
Then, as I pondered aboard the starhisp Surf, what might stop me, I realized that one thing would be there.
Fire.
The thought of being trapped in a story, in a book consumed by fire, frightened me so much that I left everything, set the dispenser to two tablets, poured Dead Sea salt into the tub, opened the tap, and disappeared in the clouds of steam.
Napsáno více jak před deseti lety, jakákoli podobnost se jmény postavami povoláními příjmeními je čistě náhodná nebo je to klasická synchronicita.
78 karet Crowleyho Tarotu plus dva Mágové a znovu-
In the area in front of the church, Don Balosa watches intently and with religious astonishment a small fire. Several men are debating a little further. They are middle-aged and look like bank clerks. Jackets and rims. -And if someone killed me? -That wouldn’t be good either. Even if you committed real suicide, it would spread around the world as news that you had been murdered. -I do not get it…- -Do you know the power of the media? Do you know how much gossip is? Do you know the power of the Word? You have a book about Marilyn Monroe and two of her albums. Your weakness, isn’t it? He wanted a cigarette, he didn’t dare ask them if he could reach into the ashtray in their presence. So he said- Give me something to drink. Today I smoked until.- Suddenly he jumped up and threw himself into the corridor. Like my Guardian Angel !!!! –
On the fishing boat, someone comments in amazement: – Champagne! – And he swallows, almost as if he thought he had drunk.
How much time has passed? Mr. Marek stares into the darkness. The woman next to him is sleeping. It’s quiet now. There is silence in the house. Don Balosa is already sitting in his usual place, at the table. He is silent, he does not move, just knead the small balls from the bread crumbs. He conscientiously rounds them up, so that he then rolls them with his palms on the ground. Suddenly hollow blows. He stops in fright. From the upper window of the house you can see Grandpa talking to a man in the corner of the garden, I guess it could be me. It’s me. Grandpa looks suspicious. -But I don’t understand what’s going on? I take him by the arm. -They’re watching over you. Your situation is unhappy. Once the Surf returns, you’ll have little time to save yourself. Do you actually know who you are? – I’m shaking with him. -You’re the one with the key to everything. You know more than I do! you are so damn important… .You have to save yourself.- -So they’re really watching over me?
In the area in front of the church, seven- to eight-year-old children dance around the mill wheel around the campfire.
Dr. Klein is back. He came to the table and looked at the old man’s body. He took an electric saw and very diligently and deftly began to divide the larger parts into smaller ones. He first started at the wrist. The palm, with thick fingers that looked like sticks, looked like a discarded, unnecessary glove. Only the furrows on the rings indicated that she was once alive and belonged to a human.
End of chapter nineteen.
XXXX
Čteno s elektrickou kytarou, nahráno ve Studiu Midian.
I woke up relatively late in the morning. I could tell by the bright daylight gleaming through the cracks in the curtains. I had a tuft of cotton wool in my head instead of a brain. It disintegrated into microscopic droplets, which clumped into lumps into something like a sponge, and began to grow and grow.
Everything around was white, only Dr. Klein’s cloak was strewn with blood splatters. And then the table. The bloody and illegible flesh gave off the smell of death.
He finally finished. Sweat beaded on his face and high skull. He put down the tool and contentedly overlooked his work. -But why the fake waiter… why the fake waiter gave me a glass out of my hand? The big hand of the old man he had just operated on rests on his head. There is something comforting in that hand.
-Do you agree with this procedure?- -Who can explore the product, he can learn something about other things. They wanted to burn all the bridges, stop being inquisitive. But it works, I want to know everything, I want to know everything, I want to try everything. There will be three. You have to save yourself, Doctor. You have forgiving feelings like people of the last century. I wish you a good night and beautiful dreams.-said the old man and died.
The doctor stepped back without a word. When I walked in, he locked the door and locked it thoroughly, in a lot of locks. The corridor sank in the dark. He went first and I followed him, my hand running up the wall. It was kind of conspiratorial and strange. The smell of chemicals lingered in the hot air. Next door. We went out.
I saw the face of a man, an embarrassed and shy peasant, trying to tell us his judgment. -I advise you not to listen to anyone’s advice, do not consider mine, I do not hide that I represent certain interests, neither God nor providence has sent me to see you.- He didn’t care if I believed him or not, and he really continued to enjoy his snail. Two young men appear, pick him up and take him out of the church. Dr. Klein turns, proceeds between teeth. – Take him to the brothel.! – And then it occurred to me that the unfortunate man might have wanted to tell us something important.
,,Mám radost ze svého růstu a z toho, že se stále více přibližuji svému původnímu určení.
Dávám volnost lidem i tomu, na čem lpím, s lehkostí a důstojností.
Odpoutání se od minulosti otevírá nové formy objektivity, ke které patří i cit.
Konec nastává, aby mohlo přijít něco nového.„
Ano. Začalo to.
A o pár hodin dříve…v předchozím článku dnešního dne :,,nejsem majitelem autorských práv, k videu ani zvuku, kdyby náhodou, článek ihned odstraním, nejdříve jsem se ZEPTAL, důkaz mám……. jen to zapadlo jako ozubená slova do sebe…příprava na dnešní čtení.. . skončil jsem a začal hrát Satyricon. Nový začátek.“
Co zpívala Naděžda v roce 1995.
Lubomír Tomik
Na rozoraná pole sněží,
Smrti háv,
plášť ,
ve větru se chvěje.
Splývá ,
se siluetou těla.
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What Naděžda sang in 1995.
Lubomír Tomik
It's snowing on the plowed fields,
Clothes of Death,
Cloak ,
trembles in the wind.
It merges
with body silhouette.
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Karta na publikaci náhlých a nečekaných slov je....Crowleyho Tarot a je to...,,Star."
Tak jako jsou všichni z téhle po sto letech nalezené fotografie arktické expedice mrtví a zbyly jen stíny na nevyvolaných fotkách v ledu.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
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 ?
a car with men on the footrests took him to the dump
and waiting to be covered by soil,
how convenient.
XXXXXX
Na větu Allana Ginsberga.
XXX
Lubomír Tomik
XXX
Smrt je dopis který jsem dostal a otevřel,
nikdy se ale nedozvěděl,
jaká byla zpráva,
zmačkán a vhozen do smetí,
auto s muži na stupačkách jej odvezlo na skládku
a čeká na zahrnutí zeminou,
jak příhodné.
XXX
Nejdřív jsem si uvědomil kde jsem udělal chybu, ve jménu Allan se píší dvě L, takže když jsem psal Alanu Moorovi, napsal jsem ,,Allan“…asi si musel myslet , že jsem šílený.
Jsem.
A karta na publikaci zcela nečekaných slov, původně tady měla být krásná, tajemná a romantická báseň pro někoho koho jsem dříve znal,…. najednou slova která krutě řízla…protože karta je ,,Krutost“
Když připuly Leviathanové.
Lubomír Tomik
Když připluly Leviathanové,
lidé z pobřežního městečka
nasadili masky,
začali s nimi rozmlouvat,
karnevalový rej a cukrová vata na pláži,
pak byl čas smrti a velryby vypustily duše,
lidé z městečka se vrátili do tepla domovů, ke krbům a nedojezeným porcím fazolových polévek jakoby se nic nestalo,
jen kdesi na nebi,
zaplálo tucet nových hvězd.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
When the Leviathan arrived.
Lubomír Tomik
When the Leviathan arrived,
people from the coastal town,
they put on masks,
they started talking to them,
carnival party and cotton candy on the beach,
then it was time for death and the whales released their souls,
the people of the town returned to the warm homes, to the fireplaces and the uncooked portions of bean soup as if nothing had happened,
just somewhere in the sky
a dozen new stars ignited.
VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVYOU
Lyrics :
When saw Her dancing.
Lubomír Tomik
When he saw Her dancing,
death,
it was just some more adventure.
VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV
https://www.mestohluk.cz/mesto/tvrz-206/tvrz/
from the collection "Veronica and other poems" / 2017-2018 / pro Veroniku.
Smrt.
Lubomír Tomik
smrt je královna v téhle hře,
skáčeme z bílých polí na černé a zpět
rychle měníme své tváře,
podle pocitů a přání
jakoby život byl jen sen
a ne rytířské klání
zítřejší Luna,
rudé meče,
jílce,
sevřené pevně.
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Death.
Lubomír Tomik
death is the queen in this game,
we jump from white boxes to black and back
we change our faces fast,
according to feelings and wishes
as if life was just a dream
and not knightly battles
tomorrow Luna,
red swords,
hilts,
tight.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVEVVV
Nepřicházej s květinami v rukou.
Lubomír Tomik
nepřicházej s květinami v rukou,
nepřijížděj v zamřížovaném autě,
palba ticha,
zvuky které se vkrádají vkrádají
neusmívej se s krví v ústech,
nekřič s prázdnou hlavou,
protože tady číhá smrt,
tady je,
číhá smrt
běž do Noci, do té dobré noci,
vzhůru do bolesti,
nevracej se bez srdce naplněného temnotou,
temnou tmou,
krví mou
VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVERONIKAVVVV
Do not come with flowers in your hands.
Lubomír Tomik
don't come with flowers in your hands,
don't come in a barred car,
silence fire,
creeping sounds creeping
don't smile with blood in your mouth,
don't shout with an empty head
because death is waiting here,
here is,
death lurks
go to night, good night
up in pain
do not return without a heart filled with darkness,
dark darkness,
my blood
vvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV
/Kareta je želva, to jsem napsal špatně -KARETA- a tedy.../ KARTA na publikaci půlnočních slov pro Tebe je ....karta Crowleyho Tarotu samozřejmě,.... ,,Rytíř Disků"
Putování s Antoniem Blockem.
Lubomír Tomik
stromy listy těla odhalují,
ve své nahotě,
barevné písně lkají
i Ty jsi dnes zvláštní, mlčíš,
ptám se :- Co mi dnes povíš ?-
o zemi bez mraků , o králi rarachů, šedých dní , soumraků
dej mi příslib nových dní,
a třeba i černých vran,
cestou slepých funebráků rozejdem se do všech stran,
dej mi oči abych prohlédl,
dej mi ruce abych mohl psát,
jen život v oplátku můžu Ti dát,
Nevím, lakotíš.
ve tmě nevidíš,
záblesky očí,
ztrhaných, zoufalých,
lampy svítí na tvář města,
neóny zívají půlnočním jasem,
za Tvým kočárem se běží jen ztěžka,
prohrát v boji s časem,
svlékni svou kůži,
půjdu,
jeden příběh končí,
druhý začíná,
vlci vyrazili ze svých doupat,
v záchranu snad můžeš doufat,
Antonius Block smetl figurky ze šachovnice,
meč byl červ beznaděje,
chlápek s křídovou kůží se pousmál,
vytáhl z kapsy brousek,
laskal svou nejmilejší přítelkyni,
která políbila mnohé.
BLOCKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK
Wandering with Antonius Block.
Lubomír Tomik
trees leaves the body revealing
in their nudity,
colorful songs lure
You too are strange today, You are silent,
I ask: - What will you tell me today? -
about a land without clouds, about a king of devils, about gray days, about twilight
give me the promise of new days
and black crows too,
on the way of the blind mourners, we will part in all directions,
give me eyes to see
give me your hands so I can write
only life can I give back,
I don't know, you're hungry.
you don't see in the dark
eye flashes,
torn, desperate,
lamps shine on the face of the city,
neons yawn at midnight,
it's hard to run behind Your carriage,
lose against time
take off your skin
I'll go
one story ends
the second begins
the wolves came out of their lairs,
You can hope for rescue
Antonius Block swept the pieces off the board,
the sword was a worm of despair,
the chalk-skinned man smiled and pulled a whetstone from his pocket,
he kissess his dearest friend,
who kissed many.
Midian Poet 