Celkem o nic nešlo. It was nothing at all.

THE tower in Uherské Hradiště Uherské Hradiště – Wikipedie (wikipedia.org)
Read and Recorded once in Studio Shaark For You , my love.
It was nothing at all.

Lubomír Tomik

The boys crept into the back alley and then the gate inside,
crawled through a small window high above the stairs,
passed through the ground with centuries-old beams covered with dust
climbed the wooden ladders
covered with tons of dung droppings
the inscriptions scratched into the plaster passed
sometime in the early twentieth century,

when they got up to the dome of the town hall tower,
below them the whole city of their childhood,
one of them took a dry pigeon's body and dropped it
in the middle of the busy middle street below them.

They then returned home after dark.

It was nothing at all.



/From,, Dinner at Minski" /2016/ Year when story happen was...1986./

3:46. Djákninn, 20:45.

Read in recorded in the tower of Church in Stonava, Czech republic. 10.4.21, For You.
3:46. Djáknin, 20:45.

Lubomír Tomik

sunflower headlights
it does not bode well
does not foretell anything at all
sunflower headlights

the road ends in the mountains
gray clouds
charged to burst

sunflower headlights
sunflower headlights
sunflowers 
Právě zde, čteno pro Tebe.
from ,,Mísa vymyšlených ryb.“ Collections of poems / 2017 /

Today is Lucie, December 13th. / Not, i know, in this poem, yes./

Fourth from left is my daughter, Klára. Photographed 13.12.2019.

Read and recorded once in Studio Shaark For You, my Fate.

Today is Lucie, December 13th.

Lubomír Tomik


today is the feast of Lucy and whoever rises on a chair will see his future
Today is Lucie and she balances stretching out looking out
eyebrows small cute plush pieces of each other
right hand obscuring the sun looking out for your future and
did you see me standing in that chair?
was i anyone else
someone else? 

Svátek svaté Lucie – Wikipedie (wikipedia.org)

Studio Shaark
From the ,,Dinner at Minski´s and other poems / 2016 /

Next, please.

Written, recorded, photographed, loaded and recorded on April 3, 2011 on Masaryk Square in Karviná, for You.

Lyrics in english :

next ,please.


lubomír tomik


breakfaSt nagasaki ages in time, may i ask for a dance ?

Odin waits for the eye to sLip into the pit of the face,
head.

eVe without adam,

                                  thE stray shrapnel.


three grandmothers sitting together by a cave,
sitting at
plucking the feathers of archeopteryx,


galleons moored at the mouths of tropical rivers.

The glowing flesh of Eve. Žhnoucí maso Evy.

Žhnoucí maso Evy.
/Pro Tebe /

Lubomír Tomik

Při rituálu Otvírání úst
jsi do mne vložila maso Evy,
žhnoucí maso Evy.

Po nestvůře již jsi sedlala jela krotila zůstaly stopy ve sněhu,
stále jsi parkovala vevnitř,
Šarlatová žena s očima času,
z minulosti stále upřenými na mne,
doširoka otevřené,
podle staré magické tradice vidím ve svém protějšku sám sebe.

Vidím Tebe.

Alchymisté vkráčeli v
Rudých hábitech
Symbolu,  větru kvílejícího kolem korouhví

Pevný stisk
Hladovosti
Intimita
Levandule
Oheň
Slova opředna v Artemidě
Odysseus v antarktidě
Poblázněné včely letí úvozem před zaplavením
Hledání přístavů
Isis Loukoťová
Cílem byl rozpustilý
Androgyn,

cílem bylo Všechno,
chutnalo,
žhavé maso Evy.
The glowing flesh of Eve.
/For You/

Lubomír Tomik

During the mouth opening ritual
you put Eve's meat in me,
the glowing flesh of Eve.

After the monster you sat down and tamed the traces remained in the snow,
you still parked inside,
Scarlet woman with eyes of time,
from the past still staring at me,
wide open,
according to the old magical tradition, I see myself in my counterpart.

I see YOU.

Alchemists walked in
Red robes
Symbol, the wind howling around the banner

Past
Hunger
Intimacy
Lavender
Of fire
Silent ,the words of the order in Artemis
Odysseus in Antarctica
Pour bees fly by the ferry before the flood
Search for ports
Isis of the Wheel
Calendar
Androgyn,

the goal was Everything,
tasted good,
hot meat of Eve. 

Where is my heart? exclaimed Tikitak.

Where is my heart? exclaimed Tikitak. / For You / Read 8.4.21 at the Social House in Old DARKov Spa.

Where is my heart? exclaimed Tikitak.

Lubomir Tomik

- Where's my heart? - cried Tikitak,
some hands pushed him onto the catwalk,
Psyche sat in the front row,
primarily
and other models shook and tumbled,
hungry peeking,
but he stood
with his head down.

- Where's my heart? - cried Tikitak,
she turned the key in the ignition,
the engine rumbled,
someone always turning the key in the ignition,
Tikitak clung to the rear bumper with his fingernail,
the car was picking up speed,
he held on
it was about everything
until the gears spilled from his chest along the way, like unused returned coins,
the car disappeared into the distance.

-… -heart? -said the dying Tikitak,
outstretched hand dropped to the ground,
extinguished
and his heart
lay in the back seat of the car,
with which you set out to meet the dawn,
overflowing cup of life.

Tick Tock.
 Gears.
Tick Tock.
 Didn't fit in.
Tick… 
Mr. Tikitak.

Smrt knih in DARKov, čtení II.

Smrt knih.
Written yesterday, read and recorded today, interesting situations when reading in front of the Social House ..., one of several versions, maybe you will like at least one of them. But you know.            / For You / Read 8.4.21 at the Social House in Lod DARKov Spa.

Death of books.

Lubomír Tomik

In the case of library fires,
plagues,
conquistadors in unlubricated armor,

enchantingly
You smell a lotus
You are

you won't burn my olfactory cells
you will not cure my sorrow
you shall not put oil in the seams of my armor

You enchanting with a lotus,
You are.

I learned to understand.

The death of books is one thing
we know very well
that the only virus
                          are WORDS

they warm
heals
they tear meat from bones.

In the case of library fires,
plagues,,
conquistadors in unlubricated armor,

You smell enchantingly with a lotus, 


YOU ARE.

Gallows splinters in DARKov , reading.

Třísky ze šibenice. / Pro Tebe / Čteno 8.4.21 u Společenského domu ve Starých lázních Darkov.

Written yesterday, read today, interesting situations when reading in front of the Social House …, one of several versions, maybe you will like at least one of them. But You know.

Gallows splinters.

Lubomír Tomik

Splinters from the royal gallows in Montfaucon
took a trip beyond the horizon,
the wind lifted them up and carried them over Paris,
it was not yet full of refugees
and we could walk along the Seine together,
uninjured.

Splinters from the royal gallows in Montfaucon
 looked down on the world below,
the wind played with  and carried them in a cruel endless gust
over your house,

where  fell into silence,
like bullets in the chest,
bullets in the chest of the archdukes,
slides,
missing from terrible beauty scopes. 

Gallows splinters/ For You / Read 8.4.21 at the Social House in Staré Darkov Spa.

Gibbet of Montfaucon – Wikipedia

Napsáno včera, čteno dnes, zajímavé situace při čtení před Společenským domem…. , jedna z několika verzí, snad se Ti aspoň jedna z nich bude líbit.Však víš.

Kde mám své srdce ? Where is my heart ?

Wooden man i DARKov.

Kde mám své srdce ?  zvolal Tikitak.

Lubomir Tomik

-Kde mám své srdce ?- zvolal Tikitak,
nějaké ruce ho postrčily na přehlídkové molo,
Psyché seděla v první řadě, 
v první řadě
a ostatní modely se natřásaly a čepýřily  ,
hladové pokukování,
on však stál 
se svěšenou hlavou.

-Kde mám své srdce ?- zvolal Tikitak,
otočila klíčem v zapalování,
motor se rozeřval,
někdo neustále otáčel klíčem v zapalování,
Tikitak se držel zadního nárazníku zuby nehty,
auto nabíralo rychlost,
držel se,
šlo o všechno,
dokud se ozubená kola z jeho hrudi nerozsypala po cestě, jako nepoužité vrácené mince,
vůz zmizel v dálce.

-…-srdce ?- řekl umírající Tikitak,
napřažená ruka klesla k zemi,
vyhasl
a jeho srdce 
leželo na zadním sedadle vozu,
jímž jsi mířila vstříci svítání,
přetékajícímu poháru života.

Tik, tak.
Ozubená kola.
Tik , tak.
Nezapadla , do sebe.
Tik…
Where is my heart? exclaimed Tikitak.

Lubomir Tomik

- Where's my heart? - cried Tikitak,
some hands pushed him onto the catwalk,
Psyche sat in the front row,
primarily
and other models shook and tumbled,
hungry peeking,
but he stood
with his head down.

- Where's my heart? - cried Tikitak,
she turned the key in the ignition,
the engine rumbled,
someone always turning the key in the ignition,
Tikitak clung to the rear bumper with his fingernail,
the car was picking up speed,
he held on
it was about everything
until the gears spilled from his chest along the way, like unused returned coins,
the car disappeared into the distance.

-… -heart? -said the dying Tikitak,
outstretched hand dropped to the ground,
extinguished
and his heart
lay in the back seat of the car,
with which you set out to meet the dawn,
overflowing cup of life.

Tick Tock.
 Gears.
Tick Tock.
 Didn't fit in.
Tick… 

Death of books. Smrt knih.

Smrt knih.

Lubomír Tomik

Při požárech knihoven,
morech,
conquistadorech v nepromazaných brněních,

uhrančivě
voníš lotosem
jsi

nespálíš mé čichové buňky
nevyléčíš smutek
nevložíš olej do švů mého brnění

uhrančivě voníš lotosem,
jsi.

Naučil jsem se rozumět.

Smrt knih je věc jedna,
přece dobře víme,
že jediný vir
jsou SLOVA,

hřejí,
léčí,
rvou maso z kostí.


Při požárech knihoven,
morech,
conquistadorech v nepromazaném brnění,

uhrančivě voníš lotosem



JSI.











Death of books.

Lubomír Tomik

In the case of library fires,
plagues,
conquistadors in unlubricated armor,

enchantingly
you smell a lotus
you are

you won't burn my olfactory cells
you will not cure my sorrow
you shall not put oil in the seams of my armor

you enchanting with a lotus,
you are.

I learned to understand.

The death of books is one thing
we know very well
that the only virus
are WORDS

they warm
heals
they tear meat from bones.

In the case of library fires,
plagues,,
conquistadors in unlubricated armor,

you smell enchantingly with a lotus,


YOU ARE.
TY

In the shadows. / In the L-610 /

In the shadows. Read and recorded 19.1.21 in KovoSteel Staré Město kovosteel.cz Inside the exposed non-functional aircraft L-610
In the shadows.

In the shadows.



Napsal, pro Tebe, Lubomír Tomik



She took another wet bloody patch of meat,
she rubbed it on both sides with a mixture of pain, desire and confusion,
sea urchins, porcupine needles,
packs craving the smell of prey,
reach into the heart, whisper:

Rusty wolf,
very beautiful
gateway for the defeated,
swaying censer,
photo trigger of my eyes.

Give up darling, tribute to poetics,
because what keeps us alive than our fantasies crumbling to pieces
outlines of reality:

Nothing,
than beauty
nothing but pain
tummy of the thumb passing through the sharpened edge of the razor.

Now,
coast,
coast of mind in flames,
every thought of you is a viking raider waving an ax,
tasting with a ladle from the cauldron of Macbeth’s witches,
a glass of wine from the walled cellars,
love of verses,
thousands of scents of Arabia.




PS LT: In the shadow it is called because a girl who rubs a mixture of thistle and other herbs pieces of raw meat, while depicting a trap for a pack of wolves, stands on the edge of the forest, in the shadow. Even in the shadow of thoughts, trying to separate reality from fantasy, but everything merges into one.
PS LT II: I try to write here in English as well, because I still believe in the possibility that you can take a brief look ,YOU … and because of that I will do my best if it happens.

Hora.










Hora.

Lubomír Tomik

Tvé srdce je hora daleko v oceánu,

už dávno jsem jako hřeb vytažený ,
z přídě,
už dávno zapustily hřeby z kříže jiné kořeny,

jsi v mlhách u pobřeží,
jsi drtivý magnet kovostýlu,
jsi žíla na svalu,

míháš se v námořnickém tričku kolem hrnce,
plném vyvařených žraločích čelistí,

ostrých,
jako Tvůj jazyk,
břitkých, jak Tvá mysl,
krajka,
kolem krku.

Mountain.

Lubomír Tomik

Your heart is a mountain far in the ocean,

I have long been like a nail,
from the nose,
the roots of the cross have long since taken other roots,

you are in the fog by the coast,
you are a crushing magnet of a metal style,
you are a vein in a muscle,

you flicker in a navy shirt around the pot,
full of boiled shark jaws,

sharp,
as your language,
razor blades like your mind
lace,
around the neck.

Rupes Nigra – Wikipedia

Pancake effect.

Čeština.
Angličtina.




Palačinkový efekt.
/ pro Tebe /

Lubomír Tomik

okamžiky jsou palačinky
vrstvené na sebe,

okamžiky jsou víření poprav
při virblech,

Stan a Ollie se zastaví
a letící dorty zamrznou 
v okamžiku
a nikdy nedoletí,
palačinkový efekt.

Ty se zastavíš
a rty zamrznou v okamžiku pořízení fotografie,
nikdy mne nepolíbíš

už nikdy
nezavíříme palačinkovým efektem,
už nikdy,
neochutnat,
Sladký džem 
tvých úst.





Pancake effect.
/ For You /

Lubomír Tomik

moments are pancakes
layered on top of each other,

moments are swirling executions
in sound of drums,

Stan and Ollie stop
and flying cakes freeze
in the moment
and never arrive,
pancake effect.

You stop
and lips freeze at the time the photo is taken,
you will never kiss me,

never,
we do not close with a pancake effect,
never,

don't taste
Sweet jam of
your mouth.

Večeře u Minského. Dinner at Minski´s.

Dinner at Minski´s. Read and recorded once for You, in Studio Shaark

Dinner at Minski´s.

Lubomír Tomik

She put her hand under the table on my thigh, 
still looking in front of her, talking to someone opposite,
I didn't know him.
the burnt meat of an Ethiopian tiger on plates,
 we both observe ourselves in the attitude of Aphrodite,

We watch the sweet asses are presented to the golden rain
I will use seven or eight tablespoons
servants bring on polished trays swallowing in Italian.

She put her hand under the top floor narrowing it down,
 it was a penguin's claw slowly sliding it inside,
 a salivating search inside the chest pressed against the lungs

She ran over the ribs, the grooves of her spine
it vibrated between a fan of air bubbles
there was nothing

suddenly, buch buch buch
not mine came up in the sky,
emerged from a hole in the moon from the veins of blood spewing blood,

stripes of earth in shades of steamed sweater
the clay grave is an indifferent time around
it just fails,

pieces of green flag torn in the morning
walled together in a narrow dream of exorcising the devil

Minski is coming.

Opens his mouth bites pieces of torso ,
asks what it is time ?

impersonal connection caress leaning against the metal wall of the toilet

YOU
EATING ME.

She withdrew her soaked hand I opened my mouth
let everything be scanned,

that real sorrow deep down when it then rushes to the surface tears you to pieces,
feast of worms in the endless footsteps of the goddess of war,
the squeal of little pigs somewhere in the distance
under the sky obsessed with the farting of thunder.

And she covered my eyes with the same palm,
I was just another run
for dinner at Minski´s.








/from ,,Dinner at Minski´s and  other poems ", 2016/

Čtení pro Tebe , v jiném státě, V.

V lázeňském parku v DARKově.
Na druhé straně hranic.
Read and recorded in Poland, for You. From the collections of poems ,,Night movers “ (2019)

Imagine.

Lubomír Tomik

Imagine a person with a mustache like Willam Shakespeare and the face of Satan,

someone moved in next door,
next to the apartment

in the morning you can smell the acid growing through the wall,

someone moved in next door,
next to the apartment,

I hear rats in the morning,
biting through the body.

Pár metrů za hranicí. Krátce poté, co jsem přečetl báseň ,, Představ si “ , když jsem šel do Polska, auto tam nestálo. Když jsem se vracel…drobné náhody přece.

ďábelské útesy. devil’s cliffs.

ďábelské útesy.

lubomír tomik

slova jsou

ďábElské
úTesy, na nichž sní kolumbova santa maria,

mudrCi světových stran putovali loukou 
vybuchující vůněmi v explozích Opojných pylů,
slAdkých jako ty,
Ganéša si poposedl
rUce zavířily v ladných pohybech
Levandulové záblesky
pAlba myšlenek,

ďábElské
 úTesy, na nichž spí kolumbova santa maria,

Cizokrajná spřežení na nebi,
hOlubice v barvě okru,
isis okovů zbAvená
leGendami opředená
pUlsující životem,
Líbající otevřená ústa ústa ústa 
sAsanek,

ďábElské 
úTesy, na nichž kolumbova santa maria dlí,


troskotajíCí znovu a znovu,
burrOughs se zubí za kormidlem,
hejnA kačin , robotické hlavy letí na měsíc kočárem taženým labutěmi,
melinda Gebbie
malUje a tančí,
pLátna plná
životA.
Yvette Mimieux in Time Machine / 1960 /

devil's cliffs.


lubomír tomik


the words are

dEvilish
 cliffs on which  sanTa maria dreams,

the sages of the world traveled through the toxiC meadow
explOding with odors in intoxicating pollen explosions,
sweet like jehovA,

Ganesha sat in a virtual position
the hands swirled in gracefUl movements
Lavender flashes,
Album of ideas,

dEvilish
  cliffs on which  santa maria sleeps

Classic sledges in heaven
 in Ocher color,
isis dreAms left behind,
leGends are real,
pUlsing life
kissing Living mouth
of Art,

dEvilish
 cliffs on which sanTa maria waiting for tomorrow,


shipwreCked again and again,
burrOughs behind the helm,
a flock of ducks, robotic heAds flying to the moon in a carriage pulled by swans,
melinda Gebbie
 paints  pUre and dances,

Lost
in beAuty.

Čtení pro Tebe, v jiném státě IV.

Carfax Abbey Carfax Abbey | Horror Film Wiki | Fandom
Read and recorded For You, from collections of my poems ,,Night Movers“ / 2019 /
Joseph Merrick. Joseph Merrick – Wikipedia
Disappeared time.

Lubomír Tomik

Joseph Merrick peered into the backyard of the alleys at dusk,
 saw a man in a top hat
and tracks in Carfax,

similar to pudding kisses, laid wonderfully quietly,
laid completely  silence, 
stunningly laid on a teak,
as a tapeworm of ideas,
eating whispering.

Merrick disappeared.
Like this.

/ followed by an elegant snapping of the fingers /......

Čtení pro Tebe, v jiném státě III.

Read and recorded for You, in forest in Poland. Short poem from ,,Night movers “ / colections of poems ,2019 /

A meeting at midnight.

Lubomír Tomik

At a meeting at midnight,
resting moss,

inhales
touches of
Your feet.

Čtení pro Tebe, v jiném státě.

Turnip. From the collections of poem ,,Noční stěhováci. “ / 2019 /
Turnip.

Lubomír Tomik

I sent You two hundred years old,
Byron's romantic letter,

maybe I should have stabbed myself in the heart with a knife,

send pieces of the body with a crushed carriage,

with the driver  cracking  whip,

in an envelope with two detectives on  lips.


ADDRESS: 

YOU,
        Deep Lakes.

Article in Motion -seven

Další prosím. Next please. Read and recorded for You at Castle Fryštát yesterday at this door.

Next Please.


Lubomír Tomik


breakfaSt nagasaki ages in time, may i ask for a dance ?

Odin waits for the eye to sLip into the pit of the face,
head.

eVe without adam,

                                  thE stray shrapnel.


three grandmothers sitting together by a cave,
sitting at
plucking the feathers of archeopteryx,


galleons moored at the mouths of tropical rivers.








Další , prosím.


Lubomír Tomik


Snídající nagasaki stárne v čase, smím prosit ?

Odin vyčkává až oko vkLouzne do důlku,
Vědoucí.

Eva bez adama,
ten zbloudilý šrapnel.

tři báby sedí spolu u jeskyně,
sedí při
škubání peří archeopteryxe,

galeony, kotvící v ústích tropických řek.










…pokračování…. ještě jinou formou. 

SOLVE appears…suddenly in czech…in english.      Words are virus, not just shit Covid.
Next, please. Další , prosím. Read and recorded by the fountain on the square in Karviná, 3.4.21, for You, right on the picture.

Around the corner of the castle. / Článek za pochodu III. , který se stal rouháním . /

Around the corner of the castle.

Lubomír Tomik

And around the corner of the castle someone crucified Christ,
again,

not long ago today
shouldn't he be lying in the grave anymore?

And around the corner of the castle someone crucified Christ,
again,

not long ago today
shouldn't he be lying in the grave?

He shouldn't have dreamed anymore,
 dream your dream
in which  lies at Her feet,

 
when You he first meet?


Blasphemy,
which sounds so beautiful.






A za rohem zámku.

Lubomír Tomik


A za rohem zámku někdo ukřižoval Krista,
znovu,

neměl dnes už dávno,
neměl už ležet v hrobu ?

A za rohem zámku někdo ukřižoval Krista,
znovu,

neměl dnes už dávno,
neměl ležet v hrobě ?

Neměl snad už snít,
 snít svůj sen , 
v němž leží u nohou dívko, 
 
leží u nohou  Tobě ?


Rouhání,
které tak krásně zní.

Úplně se mi psaní článku vymklo z rukou, jen …Ty….zpět, …kašna.

15.24. Čas byl. Čas je. Čas bude. A my ?

Next, please. Článek za pochodu II.,

Toto je článek za pochodu, druhá část, kdo ví co bude na konci …je 13.51.

Část II,.

Stejně jako slunce mizelo …

…na zámku Fryštát , Karviná…..během chvíle, aprílové počasí…

…kroupy a sníh.

A za rohem zámku někdo ukřižoval Krista,
znovu,

neměl dnes už dávno,
neměl už ležet v hrobu ?




Socha Ježíše ležícího v hrobě od Gregoria Fernándeze v klášteře sv. Jáchyma a sv. Anny ve Valladolidu

Další, prosím. Next, please.

Toto bude článek za pochodu. I,

This will be an article on the fly.

10:50. Napsáno.

Next Please.

Lubomír Tomik

breakfaSt nagasaki ages in time, may i ask for a dance ?

Odin waits for the eye to sLip into the pit of the face,
head.

eVe without adam,

                                  thE stray shrapnel.


three grandmothers sitting together by a cave,
sitting at
plucking the feathers of archeopteryx,


galleons moored at the mouths of tropical rivers.

Další , prosím.

Lubomír Tomik

Snídající nagasaki stárne v čase, smím prosit ?

Odin vyčkává až oko vkLouzne do důlku,
Vědoucí.

Eva bez adama,
ten zbloudilý šrapnel.

tři báby sedí spolu u jeskyně,
sedí při
škubání peří archeopteryxe,

galeony, kotvící v ústích tropických řek.

…pokračování….jinou formou. SOLVE…suddenly in czech…in english. Words are virus, no just shit Covid.

Girl with X-ray eyes.





Dívka s rentgenovýma očima.

Lubomír Tomik



Nevěděla si rady.
Nevěděla si rady.

Až nám Slunce jednou spálí oči ,
až se změní v rentgeny,
připomenem si,  
jak jsme směšní,
shluky kostí v ulicích,
šepot jazylek.

Pocity vzpomínky domněnky koncentrované myšlenky,
pryč.

Až se Slunce jednou stane keřem růží,
přivítáš popínavými paprsky plnými trnů
má zápěstí,
jak jsou poddajná,
smaragdovou zelení plné flakony jedu,
v zaprášených laboratořích.

Myšlenky vzpomínky pocity domněnky,
pryč.

Nevěděla si rady.
Nevěděla si rady.

Dívka s rentgenovýma očima.






Girl with X-ray eyes.

Lubomír Tomik



She didn't know what to do.
She didn't know what to do.

Once the sun burns our eyes,
when it turns into X-rays,
we will remember
how ridiculous we are
clumps of bones in the streets,
whisper of tongues.

Feelings of remembrance of the presumption of concentrated thought,
away.

Once the sun becomes a rose bush,
you will greet with climbing beams full of thorns
my wrist
how flexible they are,
emerald green full bottles of poison,
in dusty laboratories.

Thoughts memories feelings assumptions
away.

She didn't know what to do.
She didn't know what to do.

Girl with X-ray eyes.

Láska. Love.

Pro Tebe….a děkuji za dnešní lekci.

Láska.
/ Pro ...  však víš. /

Lubomír Tomik

Láska je barva kterou jsi nalila do černobílého filmu,
znachověla jsi úsměv Bely Lugosiho  šarlatem a
                                                           obalila Nocí jeho pelerínu,
žlutí bílá bělma vlků,
rudá srdce položená do sněhu,

celý svět,
ruka uvnitř hrdla,
třepotání myšlenek, 
filmových rekvizit kdysi černobílého filmu,

uvnitř krku,
spěchem žen, 
hledíš do odlíčené tváře bestie,
 každý den,
zavřené oči milenek,
stírání rosy.

Béla si přitáhne plášť ke karmínovému úsměvu,
rozpoutá šavlový , 
rozpoutá
šavlový tanec očí.







Láska.   Napsáno dnes, čteno a nahráno právě teď, 13.15, v pokoji Rehabilitačního Ústavu DARKov. Dnes jsem dostal lekci, nakládačku od Marciana. 
Nahrávka el.kytary je má, jen tak, z první, minulý rok ve St.Městě.




Love.
/ For ... You know. /

Lubomír Tomik

Love is the color you poured into a black and white film,
you marked Bely Lugosi's smile with scarlet and
                                                                            covered his cape with the Night,
yellow white white wolves,
red heart laid in the snow,

the whole world,
hand inside the throat,
flutter of thoughts,
 props of a once black-and-white film,

inside the neck
women's rush,
you look into the beautified face of the beast,
 daily,
closed eyes of mistresses,
wiping dew.

Béla pulls her cloak to a crimson smile,
unleashes a saber,
unleashes
saber dance of eyes.

In the distance a lamp on the shore.

In the distance a lamp on the shore.

V dálce lampa na pobřeží.

Napsal Lubomír Tomik .

28.11.2020 , ve svém ateliéru čte Lenka Karhanová / pseud. Magdalena Verneová /

https://www.lenkakarhanova.cz/

In the distance a lamp on the shore.

Written by Lubomír Tomik.

11/28/2020, Lenka Karhanová / pseud. Magdalena Verneová / reads in Her studio.

In the distance a lamp on the shore.
/ old navy /


Lubomír Tomik


In the distance a lamp on the shore

johoho

in the distance the lamp is lit.

johoho

through the fog through the heavy rain

johoho

in the distance the lamp is lit.



So rudder twist, old bro

johoho

rudder twist, you're here for it!



When you hear it crackling,

when you hear the curse,

all of us

johoho

all of us

johoho

not here for a long time,

johoho.







…from the my collections of poem ,,Dinner at Minski´s “ / 2016 /

ALFA. / Video /

Pro Tebe.

Napsáno 1.4.21 ráno v DARKově. Čteno, nahráno a natočeno ve stejný den u Karvinského moře, nafoceno dnes ve Starých Lázních DARKov.

Sestříháno , zvukově upraveno, dokončeno v DARKově 1.4.21 a …není Aprílem.

Lyrics and complete story behind this video:

https://midianpoet.com/2021/04/01/alfa/

ALFA.

Now all the humor goes away. We talk together yesterday, it seems to me when I listen to You as if the sound of Your voice washes me like waves. … In the morning I wait for the first procedure, I have about 15 minutes .. pull out a notebook, a pencil and WRITE and write … wave..foam…wave … and on … the poem ALPHA.

Two hours later I go to exercise, exercise on my knees, after a while we suddenly lie on our backs and an experienced therapist says in a hypnotic voice- Close your eyes …….-… and you lie down in the hot sand … and he comes one wave … and the other .. I’ll widen my eyes … then close them again.-


I write my own reality.

Teď už jde všechen humor stranou. Včera spolu mluvíme, připadá mi to, když Tě poslouchám jako by mne zvuk Tvého hlasu omýval jako vlny. …Ráno čekám na první proceduru, mám asi 15 minut.. vytáhnu sešit , tužku a PÍŠI a píši…vlna..pěna..vlna…a dál…báseň ALFA.

O dvě hodiny později jdu cvičit, cviky na kolena, po chvíli si najednou lehneme na záda a zkušený terapeut nám hypnotickým hlasem říká-Zavřete oči …….-…a položíte se do horkého písku…a přijde jedna vlna…a druhá.. Vytřeštím oči…pak je zase zavřu.


Píši si vlastní realitu .

ALPHA.


/pro Tebe/

Lubomír Tomik


TY jsi ALFA,

vezmeš můj vesmír za čtyři rohy,

složíš ho a protřepeš ,

jako nezbedné prostěradlo,

na zem padají kousky zla a lenosti,

uděláš na něm suk,

zanecháš mne čistého, bílého,


vlna,

pěna,

vlna,

pěna,

vlna na pobřeží,


TY jsi ALFA,

a já ...omega.


Snadné vítězství ?

Nic takového neexistuje.

Vždy krev,

vždy bolest.


TY jsi ALFA,

a já,

rozladěná,

popraskaná harfa,

           stojící před Tebou.










ALPHA.


/for you/

Lubomír Tomik


YOU are ALPHA,

You take my universe by four corners,

You fold it and shake it,

like a naughty sheet,


bits of evil and laziness fall to the ground,

You make a knot on it,

You will leave me pure, white,


wave,

foam,

wave,

foam,

wave on the shore,



YOU are ALPHA,

and I ... omega.



An easy victory?

There is no such thing.

Always blood,

always pain.


YOU are ALPHA,

and I,

out of tune,

cracked harp,

           standing in front of you.

The sweetest of You. To nejsladší z Tebe.

Read and Recorded once in Studio Shaark FOR YOU.

The sweetest of You.



Lubomítr Tomik


Someone raided the patisserie!

/ BANG BANG /

Desserts run out and people crouch,
under glass hatches
on porcelain trays,

not eating on the plates next to it
unfinished coffee
pierced with forks,


someone raided the patisserie
is that You,

the sweetheart rolls under the oncoming car,
a little further on the ground icing from the pinwheel,
the lady was adamant,

someone raided the patisserie,
he fired five shots into the cream cake
and when  left

 whistled softly under the beard,

/ whistle   whistle /

which he didn't even have.
from ,, The dinner at Minski´s and other poems / 2016 /

Hitchhiking in Tangier, 1974.

Hitchhiking in Tangier, 1974.

Lubomír Tomik

Getting up and falling asleep with You is not a concern,
it's like buying a whole Tangier for one dinar,
put it in my pocket and
to have him with me all day.

Mercury with Prometheus,
the whole good old bunch of gods,
I will give two dinars,
maybe they'll leave You in the morning
drive a solar truck for a while,
speed at dawn of the day,
unlimited.

Do you take hitchhikers , during coronavirus?
Stopování v Tangeru, 1974.

Lubomír Tomik

Vstávat a usínat s Tebou není starost,
je to jako za jeden dinár koupit celičký Tanger,
vstrčit ho do kapsy a 
mít ho celý den u sebe.

Merkur s Prometheem,
celá ta stará dobrá parta bohů,
dám dva dináry,
snad Tě nechají po ránu,
na chvíli řídit sluneční vůz,
rychlost na úsvitu dne ,
neomezena.

Bereš v době coronaviru,  stopaře ?

The compass needle points North.

The compass needle points North.

/ For Jaskiers /

Lubomír Tomik

The compass needle points North, 
to a place,
to something you can't understand,
no country can hold so much horror,

compass needle points north,
to the place
to something, what sucks the faith out of everything from everyone,
 to something that does not make sense,

compass needle points North,
direction Babí Jar,

Babí jar.

Babi Yar – Wikipedia Two words …. a password in Wikipedia … but it’s not, it must not be forgotten.

The compass needle points North. Read and recorded under the bridge, under the remains of Hitler’s highway in the Czech Republic. When I wrote this, I was in Ukraine, as the crow flies about 100 km from Babí Jar.
Zástřizly, Czech republic. Remains of Hitler’s highway. This year, 2O21. As the dead fell apart in the ground, the concrete torso still stood , after all this years, a reminder of the pain.

Pochodně hoří a zbrojnoši táhnou katapult zad.

Torches are burning and gunmen are pulling the catapult back.


Lubomír Tomik


The torches are burning and the cave continues,
You press your hand against her wall,
in thousands of years, someone will put their modern palm on and feel nothing,

dry double strips of skin
ten fingers wide and almost two meters long,

the torches are burning and the creature is climbing the vertebrae inside,
from the stomach through the heart to her head
where it explodes

torches burning
the other world opens the soul shatters
to all other universes
torches burning
gunmen pull the catapult back.

The walls stretch
as far as the eye can see.

Squeezed pear juice
it drips down from the kitchen counter and that's how it ends.

and like this,
it ends.




Pochodně hoří a zbrojnoši táhnou katapult zad. Čteno a nahráno ve Studio Shaark pro Tebe, má lásko.

ze sbírky ,,Večeře u Minského a další básně / 2016 /

Ona je středem vesmíru. She is the center of the universe.

Ona je středem vesmíru. / Pro Tebe, však víš /

Lubomír Tomik

Sádelnatý mnich , žádný proutek, 
přihodil do ohně dva špalky dřeva svírající v mastných upocených rukou ,
 nařasené faldy kůže a špalky byly právě takové,
jantarem říznuté,
v barvách plamenů, lesklé šperky vyhřeznutých očí

odlesky ohně  tančily nocí , praskal, plápolal ve větru,
volání po lásce zaniklo v řevu duší kolem

panoráma hranice , barvy i stíny, vše bylo dokonalé,
nebýt toho že mne upalovali, docela by se mi to i líbilo,

klíčem k hoření je nehořet,

klíček k čekání je nečekat,

klíčem k Tvému srdci je klíč nemít,

spolknout ho,
ztratit a znovu ho najít, 
nevěřila by jsi jak je to úžasné,

v barvách blesků jsi středem mého vesmíru
a má Achillova pata,

vír galaxií který mne vtáhnul do sebe,
ohnivý maelstrom rotující ve středu mého vesmíru,
neměnný,
ve středu všeho,
ve středu mého vesmíru jsi Ty,
naučila jsi mne,
že každá vteřina JE velký třesk,
každá vteřina 
a všechno znovu začíná.



Oba se na svých vratkých kocábkách plavíme realitou,

žijeme příběh,
je potřeba víc ?




She is the center of the universe. / For You /

Lubomír Tomik

A fat monk, no twig,
he threw two logs of wood into the fire, clutching in greasy sweaty hands,
 ruffled leather folds and logs were just
amber cut,
in the colors of flames, shiny jewelry with protruding eyes,

reflections of fire danced at night, crackled, blazed in the wind,
the call for love vanished in the roar of the souls around,

panorama borders, colors and shadows, everything was perfect,
if it weren't for burning me, I'd quite like it,

the key to burning is not to burn,

the key to waiting is not to wait,

the key to your heart is not to have,

swallow it
lose and find him again,
you wouldn't believe how amazing it is

in the colors of lightning You are the center of my universe
and  Achilles' heel,

a vortex of galaxies that has drawn me in,
a fiery maelstrom rotating in the center of my universe,

unchanging,
in the middle of it all,

in the center You are

You taught me,
that every second is a big bang,
every second
and it all starts again.



We both sail the reality on our shaky little ships,

we live a story
is more needed?

Send the message. / For You /

Pošli tu zprávu . /pro Tebe /

Send the message.  / For You /

Lubomír Tomik


Send the message like a black bowler , hat of the night,
 send it to the air of your imagination,
let it fly like a bullet fired into a body on the shore,

send it like a battered Victorian hat,
on the head of a guy with a white beard on the far side of the Ganges,

dark place on the other bank of the river
 all of us,

put your head against the bottom of the boat
with a slap on the forehead on a cool bamboo mat,

send the message like a hat,

you have a dead atmospheric fox around your neck
double deoxyribonucleic acid band ten atoms wide
and almost two meters long.


-Ááááá.-I stretch and say just carelessly:

-You are BEAUTIFUL-

Send the message. /For You / Read and recorded in http://www.shaark.cz/

Amazing Old Stones.

Amazing Old Stones.

Lubomír Tomik


for You
for Eilish Sinclair, Lady of the Lake ,
for Alena,





Amazing Old Stones
                         laugh in our faces,

I walk through love
as Dante descended to hell
and Virgil doesn't lead me,
is that You,

Amazing Old Stones
laughing at people around,
to lunch or breakfast dukes,
raiders from the steppes.

The measures have been tightened up,
love is not just a word, cheap quickie.

Believe me.

Wonderful Old Stones
 will continue to be in their places,

we're leaving,

he has us for lunch,
                                  Duke of Time.

Báječné Staré Kameny.

Lubomír Tomik

pro Tebe,
pro Eilish Sinclair, Lady of the Lake,
pro Alču



Báječné Staré Kameny
                        se nám smějí do ksichtu,

procházím láskou
jako Dante sestoupuji do Pekla
a nevede mne Vergilius,
jsi to Ty,

Báječné Staré Kameny
se smějí lidem kolem,
obědvajícím či snídajícím vévodům,
nájezdníkům ze stepí.

Opatření zpřísněna,
láska není jen slovo, levné techtle mechtle,
věř mi.

Báječné Staré Kameny 
budou na svých místech dál,

to my odcházíme,

nás obědvá

                        čas.

Barriers at the crossing will fall.

Spadnou závory na přejezdu.

Barriers at the crossing will fall.

Lubomír Tomik

the barriers will fall at the crossing,
the moon just shines through the clouds,
cold as a whore's breath

the barriers fall
it's snowing and it's like out of some
stupid Swedish detectives,

the barriers will fall at the crossing
I close my eyes
I feel a stream of air from the ghost of an almost sperm,
 snow breaking through a locomotive,
it's like slow motion in honey,

i
n

h
o
n
e
y


honey
,,Spadnou závory na přejezdu.“ Read and recorded in Studio Shaark once For You ,my Everything.
…ze sbírky Večeře u Minského a jiné básně / 2016 /

Zkoumání fosilních ryb.





Exploration of fossil fish. Read and recorded For You, girl , once in Studio Shaark

From the collections of poems ,,Dinner at Minski´s / 2016 /

..and for You :

Exploration of fossil fish.


Lubomír Tomik



Fingers run over stone grooves and protrusions,

he dives in 

and sticks out of the sky in some other world,


under the reflections of those suns.




Under the reflections of other suns.

Was recorded under shadow of fingers sound engineering Pavel….I’m looking at the day , when I died, before two years,…
and now He agreed with new visit … this time to a recording studio , not in the darkness of the grave, THE grave, my grave. In the may, twenty five, yes.

Under His gray wings.

Under His gray wings.

Lubomír Tomik

Empty dance hall,
was a new dimension of the heart,
under His gray wings,

With a reflection of flickering lights,
 hanging nearby,
waiting for smiles, caresses and touches,
under His gray wings,


floating nights on muddy cobwebs,
elegantly,
like a swarm of circling manta rays,
and your arms,
under His gray wings,


Your eyes Your eyes Your eyes

lighthouses on the coast of desire

Your eyes Your eyes Your eyes

when it is extinguished in the hall,
 they come to life and light up,
under His gray wings.
Under His gray wings. Written , take a picture, read and recorded For You in DARKov, Karviná, today,my love. It is For You.





Pod Jeho šedými křídly.

Lubomír Tomik

Prázdný taneční sál,
byl nová dimenze srdce,
pod Jeho šedými křídly,

S odleskem mihotavých světel ,zavěšených opodál,
čekajících na úsměvy, pohlazení a doteky,
pod Jeho šedými křídly,


plovoucí nocí na blanitých pavučinách,
elegantně,
jako rej kroužících mant,
a Tvá náruč,
pod Jeho šedými křídly,

Tvé oči Tvé oči Tvé oči

majáky na pobřeží touhy

Tvé oči Tvé oči Tvé oči

až se v sále zhasne, ožijí a rozzáří se ,
pod Jeho šedými křídly.



The late works of Mark Twain.

Pozdní díla Marka Twaina.

Read and recorded For You in Studio Shaark, from ,,Večeře u Minského and other poems“ /2016/

The late works of Mark Twain.


Lubomír Tomik



Only on steps and pitches
Only on steps and pitches
Just only steps and pitches

Never again next time,

Just
steps,

steps and pitches.
ze sbírky ,,Večeře u Minského a jiné básně . / 2016/

Při snídání. At bréákféást.

Dnes při snídani v DARKově.
Při snídání.

Lubomír Tomik

Jeruzalém padl jako dešťová kapka do Tvých
krásných vlasů,
rozběsnění muži korzovali ulicemi bez návratu,
natahující koberečky do dálky
nápisy na dveřích,
brány do jiných dimenzní,
světů
a vůbec,

Daidalos vůbec nešetřil voskem,
srdce v něm zalitá přestávala bít,
tiché výstřednosti,
k uzoufání nudné turnikety slov
se někdy zarazí a
roztočí,
jako větrné korouhve,
na cestě ,
k Tvému zámku.,

tornádo
Tě zanese ke mě.
Nápisy na dveřích..brány do jiných dimenzí, světů a vůbec. Inscriptions on the doors..gates to other dimensions, worlds and more.
At bréákféást. 

Lubomír Tomik

Jerusalem fell like a raindrop into Yours
beautiful hair,

enraged men paced the streets without returning,
stretching rugs into the distance
door signs,
gates to other dimensions,
worlds
and in general,

Daidalos spared no wax at all,
the heart filled in him stopped beating,
quiet eccentricities,
to the despair of boring turnstiles of words
sometimes stops and
mites
like weather vanes,
towards on the road ,
to Your castle,

tornado,
will take me to You.

Grid in a poem.

Mřížka v básni.

rty   roní   slzy               zapálíme  si               není to nádherné          cítit          něco                  víc

slzy roní     rty               svalíme    se              něco   k    někomu         cítit

náměstí        v                náměstí      v               cítit

Telči       hotel               Telči   hotel

v    podloubí

Ty a já  zdánlivě

ač  je  to

ne

mo

žné     

není to nádherné, něco cítit?

Grind in poem. Read and recording in Studio Shaark once, For You.


Grid in a poem.

Lubomír Tomik

lips shed tears we light up it’s not wonderful to feel something more
tears roll down our lips we roll something to feel someone
square in the square in the feel
Telč hotel Telč hotel
in the arcade


You and me seemingly


although it is

I

mpo

ssible.

It is not beautiful, to feel something?

Hotel…rigt on the picture, red house.

Zrcadlo. Mirror.

Zrcadlo. /pro Tebe /

Lubomír Tomik

Zrcadlo je poloprázdná dálnice a

na konci,
kde auta bez řidičů svištěla do hlubin,

s řvoucí nocí,
zavoněl Tvůj klín,

zavoněl,
vůní právě natrhaných
kopretin.






Mirror.  /For You/

Lubomír Tomik

The mirror is a half-empty highway and

at the end,
where driverless cars whizzed into the depths,

with a roaring night,
Your lap smelled,

 smelled nice,
scents just torn
daisies.

I want a kííííííss on the heart.

Read and recorded for You once in Studio Shaark my love.
I want a kííííííss on the heart.


Lubomír Tomik

I want a kííííííss on the heart,
I want him now !

said the transparent Napoleon
and suddenly,
suddenly  flowed down my back in the shower
feeling,

as if someone had suddenly
 began to read this poem

the words appeared
the towers opened fire

I want a kííííííss on the heart!
I want him now!

said the transparent Napoleon
and cat,
that beautiful girl,

 she slipped under a floor full of lubricant.
from the collections of poem ,,Večeře u Minského / 2016 /
Obraz ,, Kočka Šklíba “ autor Luděk Kouřil.

Open Your Mind.

He was rolling in something and it was like …

Read and recorded For You in Studio Shaark from ,,Večeře u Minského a další básně “ / 2016 /
He was rolling in something and it was like ...

Lubomír Tomik

It was rolling in something and it was like
if
lama
emerged
from my bathtub
full of foam

lesbian fantasy

and joy came
joy has come

she held my hands
she held my hands

she squeezed them for me
squeezed

and crush the bone

splashes of blood were everywhere

the lights in them shine

like beautiful Libyan desert glass.




End of all words.

Read and recorded right here, in this shelter, in the winter, in the snow, but for You.

End of all words. Read and recorded For You , 29.1.21 on the frozen Lake of Balaton, Nový Hrozenkov. just while before I saw You with wet hair after showering.
End of all words.

Lubomír Tomik

And for all those centuries,
crowds of oysters risk hugging  mouths
 and burst in,
silky curled lips beams
and barely resistant to The Wild Hunt of the Ghost of Love.

Soon,

hit me,

 squeeze my heart and
               launch a cannonade of words,

                                                   Beauty.




…from the forthcoming collection of poems Map of the Continent of Your Heart, for which the foreword was written by Pavla Jonsson from the band Zuby Nehty and for which Alan Moore approved the use of one of his sentences.

The one and only Alan Moore. The dreams come true.

All this , For You.

Moon baby.

Read and recorded For You 19.1.21 ,in exhibit L-610 in the company KovoSteel, Staré Město. From the upcoming collection of poems Map of the Continent of Your Heart, For You my girl.
Moon baby.

Lubomír Tomik.

You step on the right foot, you get up
and goVERnments are falling,

You look in the mirror and the prime ministers are shaking their heads
gunpowder from ancient mistress powder puffs,

A touch of BEAUTY brightens the planet,
months collide and dust
from their rains it will coVER you from head to heel,

to the heel,
BEAUTY
You took the upper hand, i feel.

Jehňátko. Lamb.

Lamb. Jehňátko.

Nafoceno, nakresleno a vytvořeno v Nemocnici UH , Oddělení Rehabilitace, na němž jsem hospitalizován, 20.3.21.
Krátká báseň ,,Jehňátko“ z mé sbírky ,,Noční stěhováci “ /2019/ Čteno a nahráno pro Tebe, kousek od onoho domku v džungli za strašlivého větru.


Pro Tebe.

Photographed, drawn and created in the UH Hospital, Department of Rehabilitation, where I was hospitalized, 20.3.21.
Short poem „Lamb“ from my collection „Night Movers“ / 2019 / Read and recorded for You, not far from that house in the jungle in the terrible wind.


For You.

/ The English text will be added after the premiere of the video, the surprise should not be revealed in advance./

My dear, Severin. / For You. /

My dear, Severin. Read and recorded in Studio Shaark once, for You, My Beautiful Girl.

My dear, Severin.  / For You /

Lubomír Tomik


Big beautiful poison spitting cobra
hanging over their heads and
the tips of nine-tailed cats peek from behind a beautiful ass
Wanda von Dunajew.

She nodded to the right hand,
we creep up to Her.

Rub our palms on the ground,
 dig the fibers of carpets into the veins,
 tear off the bellies of the fingers,
sharp nails
for the final succumb.

My dear, Severin
saddle your mare,
tie an obsidian knife to her hoof.

Open my chest,
let the HEART breathe freely,

        through a flood of scarlet.



From ,, Večeře u Minského “ a další básně / 2016 /

It’s not what it looks like, I just love You every pore of my body, I’m not a masochist … It’s just a strong feeling for You that I still feel …like I’m standing on the shore and You are the ocean and every thought of You is one wave and I go into the waves, over and over and drown.

When anyone will like the poem, please leave a word in the comments, let’s try to make a poem around the world, ANY ONE WORD, thank you, brothers and sisters, we are all equal, we are all the same…just fantasy in US want out, that’s why we write, we create … because of love, because of LOVE.

On the assembly line.

Read and recorded For You in Studio Shaark…once… Because that’s what I need . Install such a new heart, from the moment I met You.
Na montážní lince. /2016/

On the assembly line.


Lubomír Tomik


A guy was standing on the assembly line,


the body arrived three times an hour , 

hung 

on 

hooks,

stuck

 in

 the

 collarbones.


Stopped in front of him,

He was doing something there,
hands thrown in the chest,

 seemed to be no problem
to mount a brand new heart.

No problem at all.
She is real girl…beatifull… drawn here…by me with a pencil.

Soft words about the end.

She drawn by me with a pencil.

Soft words about the end. Read and recorded For You in Studio Shaark once.
Soft words about the end.

Lubomír Tomik

You're hovering over an ice field,
silent scars cut into the body of the snow.

I haven't known You in so long,
blood drew soft words in the snow
at the end.


Suddenly You're everywhere ... and the story begins.

From the ,, Dinner at Minski´s“ /2016/

Astonishments of the Orient spell deprived.

Úžasy Orientu kouzla zbavené.

Lubomír Tomik

Jedinečný velký mág získal nechtěně báječné místo s výhledem,
mezi dvěma zločinci,
krev byla všude na rukou kůži střence nože,
stékala po želvím krunýři,
kutálejícím se v z vrcholku Golgoty,
otočil hlavu na kříži,
ale hřeby,
držely pevně.

Mysl plná obrysů lyry,
hladoví supové se rvali o mršinu želvího tělíčka,
vykotlaná kost,
Ježíš odvrátil zrak,
Hermés  nedbale zapózoval,
zmáčkla jsi spoušť fotoaparátu,
cvaknutí snímku vyplašilo nenažrané bestie, poodlétli do dálky,
a usadili se,
v očekávání hostiny,
ovšem už žádné další kusy masa,
dnes ještě ne.

Úžasy Orientu, kouzla
zbavené.
Golgotha.
Hermes vyrábí první lyru z želvího krunýře.

Astonishments of the Orient spell deprived.

Lubomír Tomik

The unique great mage inadvertently won a wonderful place with a view,
between two criminals,
blood was everywhere on the hands of the skin of the knife handle,
ran down the turtle's carapace,
rolling in from the top of Golgotha,
he turned his head on the cross,
but nails
held tight.

A mind full of lyre outlines,
hungry vultures were fighting over the carcass of a turtle's body,
broken bone,
Jesus looked away,
Hermes posed carelessly,
you pressed the camera shutter,
the click of the picture startled the uneaten beasts, flew into the distance,
and they settled down,
in anticipation of a feast,
but no more pieces of meat,
not yet today.

Astonishments of the Orient, magic
deprived of.

Between the ringing of the snooze alarm.

…we howled together in some city,
the shadows of the mustafs flickered through the alleys immersed in darkness…
Read and recorded for You, totally For You, in Studio Shaark

Between the ringing of the snooze alarm.

Lubomír Tomik

We howled together in some city,
the shadows of the mustafs flickered through the alleys immersed in darkness
and lights in office cubicles,
into which the city was divided,
 threw flashing flashes from the monitors.

We entered a spacious square
and then ,
just before in this reality
the alarm rang,
suddenly a very ugly person appeared
one eye was completely bent to the side
and she laughed
until she grabbed her belly.

You opened your eyes. 
It's high time to get up.

A desolate, uncultivated paradise.

A desolate, uncultivated paradise.

Lubomír Tomik

sometimes my fantasy is one of the most faithful friends,
You are smiling,
We live seemingly everyday lives,
yet,
I'm with you

sometimes she's a terrible bitch
feels the touch of other people's hands on your skin,
 sees the sparkle in Your eyes,
which are vanity harvested by someone else,
he doesn't know,

we live in a desert,
uncultivated region.

Stín Jiřího Wolkera v Nemocnici UH

Při vycházce v opuštěné části nemocnice…

Zřejmě se tady scházeli nějací Wolkerovi příznivci. Básníci spiklenci. Dnes se to opravdu hodí, drobná náhoda, jako je již pravidlem…napsal jsem pro Tebe, přečetl a nahrál , snad povedenou věc, mam z ní dobrý pocit a čekám na souhlas k použití dvou slov…dokud jej nedostanu, báseň nezveřejním, již dvě svolení ze tří mám…kam přece spěchat? Jen za Tvým úsměvem…ve stínu Jiřího Wolkera.

All those good old brothers shamans.

All those good old brothers shamans. Read and recorded in Studio Shaark , for You and and no one else. For You.
All those good old brothers shamans.


Lubomír Tomik

In the moonlight on the lonely pastures of the world surrounded by endless forest,
sits in a circle around the fire,
they sit down and each of them takes  bowl,
in the urine stream of that other man in the following,
everything is hidden.

All the good old brothers shamans ,
kiss
that terrible beauty in a red dress with white  dots and
orange peel,
is suddenly gone,

completely gone

G O N E.

Někdo to byl. It was someone.

Read and recorded For You in Studio Shaark

It was someone.

Lubomír Tomik

It was someone,
someone did it,
he didn't even laugh,
when his bones was
                                counted.

Count his bones,
all his bones,
run your fingers along the edges of the vertebrae,
SKIN up,
                                 beautifully tightens.


It was someone,
someone did it,
he didn't even laugh,
when his bones was
                                 counted.
from ,, Večeře u Minského “ /2016/

Passport to Magonia.

Studio Shaark
Agobard of Lyon.
Read and recorded in Studio Shaark, Bzenec ..once for You.
I'm going to have to get a passport to Magonia.


Lubomír Tomik


Don't forget:

-Get a passport to Magonia

-Spank
     archbishop
        Agobard's ass

-Look around
          along the square in Lyon,

 just before that,

                          before they stone me.

from the ,, Dinner at Minski´s“ /2016/

and Magonia (mythology) – Wikipedia

Drobné náhody …pokračují.

Alane…yes! Nejenom, že jsem si při odjezdu do nemocnice náhodně četl Tvé svolení k použití Tvé Věty v předmluvě mé chystané sbírky, jsem znovu asi ve čtvrtině V jako Vendetta, cvičím, čtu, cvičím, čtu.

Právě v nemocnici pracuji na článku na zítřek, báseň nahraná ve Studiu Shaark ve BZENCI- a právě ze Bzence byla jedna dívka, která mi asi před hodinkou zachránila život a díky ní jsou sovy na cestě…vrátím se na pokoj, poslechnu báseň s fantastickým zvukovým efektem, který vytvořil Pavel ve Bzenci, řeknu si ju, je to dobré, napíši článek a zítra ho zveřejním, příběh se odehrává se v roce 815 n.l. Magonia (mythology) – Wikipedia a když o pár vteřin později otevřu mail, v něm komentář, který mi dnes napsal Jaskiers z FRANCIE, …….drobné náhody…ale…ju, báseň byla napsána v roce 2016.

To nemluvím o tom, že jsem minulý týden něco napsal tužkou na kus bílého listu papíru a ono se to v minulých dnech stalo.

And he put on that Phrygian cap emphatically.

Read and recorded from ,,Večeře u Minského a další básně / 2016 / ,once for You, in Studio Shaark
And he put on that Phrygian cap emphatically.

Lubomír Tomik

and put it on, emphatically
and it came pure and clear as lightning

he saw himself surrounded by rotating hearts,
splashing blood droplets gushing out
with hands searching in the chest,
in Her footsteps,

give me a blessing,
I want to worship Your nudity

I want
worship
You.

Ezra.

Read and recorded once for you in Studio Shaark
Ezra.
Ezra is angry.

Lubomír Tomik

Ezra pulled me over the head again
.
It was morning, I got up and everything hurt and now!
Ezra!

...and
all that talk of heartless poetry
,

it is not enough to support the palace of fantasy
bread shoes charming charming demimondena Death?



from ,,Večeře u Minského" /2016/

Epitaph of the Gravedigger’s spade. Epitaf hrobníkova rýče.

Epitaph of the Gravedigger’s spade. Read and recorded once -in other reality- For You in Studio Shaark
Epitaph of the Gravedigger's spade. 

Here's a spade and I,
we are One

Here the worm does not cry
and only bites

Let the orchard be ,
where it will be obvious

Here the crosses of the gravedigger grow


Ze sbírky ,,Večeře u Minského …-2016/

Im home from hospital alive….no wood leg, yeah, surgery succeeded, the patient died..and woke up again, teď už Ti rozumím, trvalo mi to dva roky a milion tun bolesti, rozumím.

Thank You All, Sisters and Brothers!

It is irrelevant in the sink under the mirror.

Irelevantní.

from the ,,Dinner at Minskí s “ / 2016 /
It is irrelevant in the sink under the mirror. Read and recorded for You in Studio Shaark
It is irrelevant in the sink under the mirror.
/For my love/

Lubomir Tomik

 In the sink under the mirror,
 pieces of bloodied skin, age from the face

 I sank into the pilot's seat,
 cabin dazzled by white light

 ossified ossified ossified

 soul burned on a trunk,
 animals at least once an hour
 they fall into the river,
 time is irrelevant

 Irrelevant.
 Everything is irrelevant.

 The bite of the inner worm.
 Irrelevant.

Her smoke. Její dým.

Read and recorded in Studio Shaark for You.
Her smoke.

Lubomír Tomik

 Under the squeak of the moon bitten by a serrating dog,
 in the haze cracks in the clouds,
 She blew Her smoke into me,

 Your smoke.

 My lungs gasified with You,
 every pore of my burnt throat
 he shouted after You,

 I always wanted it.
 I always wanted YOU.



From ,, Dinner at Minski´s / 2016/

Koberečky s paměťovou pěnou. /Pro Tebe/ Rugs with memory foam./For You/

Koberečky s paměťovou pěnou.

Lubomír Tomik

Chtěl jsem žít bez Tebe,
 už vím, že to nejde,

jak se omývají mrtví v saxofonovém světě ?

Stahuje mne do hlubin Tebe ,
stahuje mne vír přídě Titaniku,

střelci do slunce stále míjejí terč,
zasahují jen Tvé srdce,

jeho otisk,

všichni jsme jen koberečky s paměťovou pěnou,
náručí a momentky postav,
lásek,
náručí plné paměťové pěny ,
otisk Tebe.







Rugs with memory foam.

 Lubomír Tomik

 I wanted to live without you,
 now i know it's not possible
 how do they wash the dead in the saxophone world?

 It pulls me into the depths of You,
 the vortex of the bow of the Titanic pulls me away,

 shooters into the sun still pass the target,
 they affect only your heart,
 his fingerprint,

 we are all just memory foam rugs,
 arms and snapshots of the characters,
 love,
 arms full of memory foam,

 Imprint of You.




Právě teď...pro Tebe... jsi a budeš se mnou
doormat, living room, nonslipmat, Floor Mats

Přichází Marty Feldman. Marty Feldman is coming.

IN GOD WE TRUST, Marty Feldman, 1980, (c) Universal
Read and recorded in Studio Shaark For You, my love.




Marty Feldman is coming.

Lubomír Tomik

 Marty Feldman with a hand of fame goes to the parking lot of my childhood
 wearing a terrible priestly cassock,
 palms covered with whipped thunder.

 You told me,
 that when there were storms
 you hold someone you love,
 lightning strikes you.
Marty Feldman from "Young Frankenstein". | Marty feldman, Young  frankenstein, Frankenstein
from the ,,Dinner at Minski´s “ / 2016/

Let’s taste it. Ochutnáme to.

Read and recorded in Studio Shaark for You , Goddess.
Let's taste it.
/For You /

Lubomír Tomik

 the old seasons are disappearing
 rusty gears of time
 bends in the wind

 it wasn't yesterday
 not tomorrow
the old seasons are disappearing

 I'll wrap you in a shroud
 from faded rose petals

 I sewed them together
 pieces of intestines
 a bone of ribs

 not tomorrow
 not yesterday
 one heartbeat

 the old seasons are disappearing.

 You.
Ze sbírky ,,Večeře u Minského a jiné básně “ / 2016 /

A teď je ten pravý čas na …..Hotel for insects.

From the ,, Dinner at Minski´s “ /2016/

Read and recorded for you my truly love in Studio Shaark

Kvůli použití zvukových efektů prosím doporučuji poslech ve sluchátkách. Due to the use of sound effects, I recommend listening in headphones. A zavřít oči, prosím, vážně…díky and close your eyes,seriously, thanks.

Hotel for insects.

Lubomír Tomik

 I cut       sawdust      boards all over the ground,
 making at the hotel for insects,
 nailing nails avoided thumb injuries,
 blood splashed only kimono

 the back wall was covered with canvas
 used reeds bamboo drilled wood pie
 bag of pine cones all at the hotel for insects

 I sipped from steaming tea with honey and plum brandy,
 it's hardly spring I thought- What the hell am I attracting to a beetle?-

     Colorado beetle of the setting sun?     Meadow horse sadness ?

 I just smiled.
….and this is him, Hotel for insects from poem, right now, after five years …. the same as me …. destroyed, scrapped … still standing … like me …. and what if some bastard hit me with a car in may 2019? What if the government and the authorities took away my money, ID cards, and from tomorrow also the opportunity to be with you in february 2021? Once…. i believe. Once.

I stepped on the dried bird’s skeleton. Pro Tebe, má lásko.Ze srdce.

Kvůli použití zvukových efektů prosím doporučuji poslech ve sluchátkách. Due to the use of sound effects, I recommend listening in headphones. A zavřít oči, prosím, vážně…díky and close your eyes,seriously, thanks.

ORIZABA | Passengers in History
Rozšlápnul jsem vysušenou ptačí kostru.
Read and recorded FOR YOU LOVE in Studio Shaark

I stepped on the dried bird’s skeleton,

Lubomír Tomik,

and the tiny chest cracked,
I limped
someone put a bottle in my trail.

she pounded me with dolphin skin,
THE MAGIC beauty of His being,
someone asked:- A shot?-
answer: -Tomorrow, or in eleven days.-

It started to rain, the car chuckled uncertainly
water splashed out of the exhaust,
then he rode in the rain, in the distance over the mountains
it flashed,

he drove and thought of the man,
who burned his poems in the boiler room of the steamer Orizaba,
rolling black smoke
covered the sea
long
mourning
ribbon.

from ,,Dinner at Minski´s “ …i write this in 2016…….and now is reality.

Queue in the supermarket. Fronta v supermarketu.

Fronta v supermarketu stock fotografie, royalty free Fronta v supermarketu  obrázky | Depositphotos ®
Queue in the supermarket. Read and recorded for You in 2021 , For You. I write this in Year 2O16. Strange.
Queue in the supermarket.

Lubomír Tomik

 the beauty stood there thinking about the people in line in front of her
 there stood a guy thinking about the people in line in front of him
 I was standing there

 I remembered a beauty and a guy telling me what they were doing
 in line at the supermarket

 I remembered it and thought about the people in line in front of me

 On the twentieth day of March, thirteen hundred and forty-five,
 it looked like a sale of plague bacteria.


 Good buy, man.
From ,, Dinner at Minski´s “ /2016/

The saddest poem of all.

The saddest poem of all. Read and recorded in Studio Shaark for You, my love.
The saddest poem of all.

Lubomir Tomik

 Cute druids fall from the trees,
 when swans take off above the river
 they flutter their wings.

Butts sing in the quiet bays of adolescence,
 ejaculation on wooden piers
 and moaning in the tents,
 the humidity of the saturday nights,
 the taste of the mouth alternating in the evening,

 I stood with a bottle of wine in front of the stage,
 the band was terrible and someone grabbed my shoulder,

 I turned , She suddenly kissing me,
 in the hall I had in my hand Her tongue and breast in mouth,
 outside we leaned against a tree,
 she took off my pants and said after a week: - So, we will continue ? -


 I can't remember Her face.
 
from the Dinner at Minski /2016/

Where everything, was the other way around. Tam, kde vše bylo naopak.

I really recommend listening in headphones.
Read and recorded FOR YOU in Studio Shaark, my love.
Where everything was the other way around.
Lubomír Tomik

 In the embrace of Steel Dan,
 strangled with your underwear ,                             perhaps red,
 before the eyes the specter of Mephistopheles     , perhaps tousled by hell,

 Faust's spirit
 raises the veil of smoke

 Faust's house
 will serve my joke

 Faust's breath
 where sulfur tastes

 Faust's spirit
 The universe

 In the embrace of Steel Dan,
 strangled by a red bra,
 in fainting,
 the ghost of Mephistopheles before his eyes,

 the tousled hell hopping
 leaves hoof prints,

 somewhere in Dublin.
 Stephen,
                      somewhere in Dublin.


from the ,, Dinner at Minski´ s“ / 2016 /

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

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

Když se dostaneš na konec scény. When you get to the end of the scene.

Read nad recorded for You in Studio Shaark
When you get to the end of the scene.
When you get to the end of the scene.

Lubomír Tomik

 when you get to the end of the scene
 the celluloid melts
 pours over the edge of the table
 flows down on you
 I draw shapes with my eyes on him
 pupil prints
 in the area just below the ribs
  in which electric shocks burst dry

 the other woman suddenly looks me in the eye
 in my hand Your breast in a cloud of fragrant smoke

 WE are at the end of the scene.

Postavit na kávu a čekat. Stand for coffee and wait.

Stand for coffee and wait. Postavit na kávu a čekat. Read and recorded for You, my darling in Studio Shaark
Stand for coffee and wait.

Lubomír Tomik

 murderous creaking of worms in furniture,
 clinking triangles into men in fractions,
 choirs down the streets,
 a river of souls flowing around a quiet door
 sometimes it freezes
 sometimes it is dry
 and only sometimes,

 rare,

  comes out of the trough and sweeps everything in front of .

 Stand for coffee and wait.




from ,,Dinner at Minski´s and other poems“ /2016/

Our old enemy. Náš starý nepřítel.

Our old enemy. Read and recorded for You, my Love, in Studio Shaark

,,Our old enemy, the SATAN !!!“ -said priest at Sunday Mass.
I noticed and cut my ears.

I thought:
-Oh dear,, we’re in the middle of a soul conflict!!!

from ,,Dinner at Minski´s and other poems.“ /2016/
Vidle - Satan - Ptákoviny Smíchov

On the gun carriage of phantoms E.P. Na lafetě přízraků E.P.

On the gun carriage E.P. Read and recorded for You in Studio Shaark
On the gun carriage E.P.
/for You/

Lubomír Tomik

 On a carriage of ghosts of running water glued to the red tail lights of death,
  E.P. leaves and I wander through Venice,
 the gondolas collide,
 they shatter easily like couples in love in the early evening,

  just like that,
 it would be said.
 just like that



/and E.P. is ...of course....                                                                                              ...Ezra. /                Ezra Pound z pohledu odložené dcery | Hospodářské noviny (iHNed.cz)

All the SCENTS of the world. Všechny ,,vuně“ světa.





Read and recorded in Studio Shaark
All the SCENTS of the world.

Lubomir Tomik

 The headline in the news reads:
 -All the SCENTS of the world-  ...

 You can imagine the SCENT as beautiful fairies
 on a meadow in the middle of a dense
 coniferous forest,
 in the moonlight he runs there
 they jump from feet to feet
 and
 it looks,
 that they are nice .....bitches 

- Ha! And Gotcha!-

 Smile.

from the ,,Dinner at Minski´s /2016/

„Who’s there, my God, who’s there?“

Hemingway, Fitzgerald, And The Round That Went On Too LongThe Fight City
„Who’s there, my God, who’s there?“ Read and recorded for You in Studio Shaark
"Who's there, my God, who's there?"

Lubomír Tomik

 Ernest Hemingway knocked out a phone booth,
 it was only afternoon,
 guy in an old STB secret police coat
 with a leather bag and an injured spine entered a roundabout,
 the cars stopped indecisively and the drivers didn't know what to do,
 the guy in the orange overalls was walking on the railway embankment,
 for a moment he even seemed to be able to control the tracks and sleepers
 but then he looked at the track in front of him
 he stared until his eyeballs fell out
 and on the gleaming tracks they rolled toward the unknown,
head to all the tattoo ink,
 Ernest Hemingway knocked out a phone booth,
 the handset fell to the ground,
 coins spilled,
 on the other side of the line was Ema Destin
 and she cried :        

,, Who is there, O God, O God, who is there? "
Lásky Emy Destinnové - Novinky.cz

The sullen man. Ten zasmušilý chlapík.

The sullen man. Read and recorded For You in Studio Shaark
The sullen man.

Lubomír Tomik


 Before he lay down under the sign No. 😯
 called some Reynolds
 the soul was winking and was almost on the edge
 before he lay down under the sign No. 😯
For You ….definitely For You… all this….For You. Edgar Allan Poe - Wikiwand

A je TO tady, pomyslel si. And here IT is, he thought.

And here it is, he thought. Read and recorded for You, in Studio Shaark
And here it is, he thought.

Lubomír Tomik

 And here it is he thought,
 it was like a whiplash,
 creaking skin,
 blinding light,

 the bow passes over the remnants of the silhouettes of the pig casings

 Her hips curl,
 she tasted all that,
 young heart,

 young with a gnaw of darkness.

 And here it is he thought,
 it's here and he felt her teeth pierce his flesh.

Completely attack. Úplně napadrť.

Dnes speciálně pro Tebe, ať údery boxovací rukavice , které zazní, úplně napadrť rozbijí Tvou nemoc.





Read and recorded in Studio Shaark
Napadrť.
Completely attack.

Lubomír Tomik

 under 
the blows
 of hands 
tearing 
me
 to
 pieces
 stomachs
 broken 
gushing
 vermilion
 in 
the palms 
of the wreckage 
of the eyes


 completely attack.

from the collections of poem ,,Dinner at Minski´s „/2016/ For You.

Boiler full of necks. Kotel plný hrdel.


Albrecht Dürer: Utrpení deseti tisíc křesťanů, 1508
Foto: Vienna, Kunsthistorisches Museum © KHM-Museumsverband
Albrecht Dürer: Utrpení deseti tisíc křesťanů, 1508
Boiler full of necks. Read and recorded in Studio Shaark For You, my Love

Boiler full of necks.

Lubomír Tomik

 the boiler full of throats overflows
 and the characters as from Durer's woodcut,
 they disappear and appear
 above the surface of the saddled goulash of blood,
 wooden spoon disappears somewhere in the clouds
 feet appear

the image is suddenly colored,
 is red, smudges of green, black to brown
 full of movement and lamentation:

 Halving a bull in a poppy field.

Just another fix. Pro Tebe, lásko. To Floor.

Just another fix. Read and recorded for You in Studio Shaark
jUst anoTHER  fix.

lubomír tomik

 sleePing powdEr
 théNarDier has his pockets full
 lobsters whine softly
 they smile eccentRically
 rhythmicAlly padded cell next to the room
 it looks unusual in her eyes
 he spent five minutes viGorously in china
 than he lived ONly the life of cats
 before there are one more of us
 he stares into his eyes
 and they removed the skin from the headless hull
 grotesque performance
 he is one of those priests
 you had to put it on.

 a guy driving in the fog across an abyss
 behind igraine scattering from the cloak
 letters of the alphabet.

There is always time for a kiss, Lulu thought.

Lulu. Read and recorded in Studio Shaark

There is always time for a kiss, Lulu thought.

 Lubomír Tomik

 And so she twisted her ass in the slow rhythm of the music,
 rippled hips,
 but it was useless, the bar was empty.

 She reached into her back pocket and found,
 she didn't even have any money.
From….collections of poem. ,,Dinner at Minski´s

It really happened … only the music was different … I don’t know what was playing when I was there … but the sadness in the tones of the accordion is accurate.

Mezi hroby. Between the graves.

Between the graves. Read and recorded in Studio Shaark
Between the graves.
Lubomír Tomik

 Between the graves you can smell cologne,
 -Hi Your feets!- I smile,

 between the graves you can smell cologne,
 the heart bursts under the onslaught of baits,tits,etc,
 paperback,

 between the graves you can smell cologne
 several african american guys leaning on a tree
 in the hot heat,

 goes through a ghetto somewhere in Ostrava
 opens the door you're there,

 you are naked and you are lying on the table
 as if nothing was happening.

 Then you just say:
 -You do five things at once. You have to concentrate.-

Someone else’s poem about me.





Photo by Johannes Plenio on Pexels.com
Someone else’s poem about me. Read and recorded in Studio Shaark
Someone else's poem about me.

Lubomir Tomik

 the forest is the sun of my soul
 dark falls is my forest
 my soul is a forest set dark

is
soul
 sun
 My
 forest

 my soul is a dark forest
 above which the sun sometimes sets
 and hunters?

 They can't get rid of the feeling
 that it won't turn out well.
From the collectons of poems ,,Dinner at Minski /2016/