Armada III.

Fotografie od u0414u043cu0438u0442u0440u0438u0439 u0422u0440u0435u043fu043eu043bu044cu0441u043au0438u0439 na


Armada III.

Lubomír Tomik

žluté mušle dna duše.
noci buše,
dne spálených  křížů z aleje otroků poblíž cest

armada adamra armada adamra
adamra armada adamra armada adamra
armada armada armada

procházky po prkně,
chvíle v hrudním lodním koši

až vyjdou hvězdy,
abychom věděli kde jsme
abychom našli cestu k sobě

Armada III

Lubomír Tomik

yellow seashells of the bottom of the soul.
the night of the bush
on the day of the burnt crosses from the slave alley near the roads

armada adamra armada adamra
adamra armada adamra armada adamra
armada armada armada

moments in the rib ship cage

when the stars come out
to know where we are
to find our way to each other



Napsáno čteno nahráno ve Studiu Midian TEĎ, po noci beze spánku, moje nohy nejsou zlámané kormidla,moje svaly nejsou potrhané plachty, sakra tam někde je Kontinent!


Lubomír Tomik

everything takes place in grey
everything takes place in a fog

what is the structure of the songs
what is the structure of raindrops

what is the structure of your smile

the softest
the most amazing

Shipmaster! though the Golden Hind  heads for the sargassum trap,
still floating

who cares about torn sails
the broken rudder and the seeming infinity of the ocean around
there somewhere
there somewhere

is the mainland


Prvních třicet vteřin hudba My Dying Bride, nejsem majitelem autorských práv, takhle to MUSELO být.

Tluču pěstmi do zdi až odpadává omítka, zůstane jen obnažené maso cihel, cihly jsou cihly jsou cihly, vytvoří zeď, vytvoří chodby,

How many ships.

Napsáno čteno a nahráno ve Studiu Midian pro Tebe.
How many ships.

Lubomír Tomik many ships were needed,
formless timelessness
those waters without you
I am in Her right now
in all the NOWs we once experienced together

how many ships did it take how many moments
how many tea Clippers
how many chained fairies below deck...

Poet Video pro Veroniku ,,Kopretiny.“

Kopretiny ztroskotaly na zahradě Studia Midian. Všechno spáchal LT.
Zvuk v pozadí z Archivu BBC, volně dostupné pro neziskové účely , konkrétně :Ships & Tugs: Whistles & Sirens - R.M.S. Aquitania, ship's horn, sounded several times.
Lyrics :


Lubomír Tomik

Sensationalist press
raced in the dramatic headlines!

Daisies went to the bottom!
Shipwrecked Daisies!
Daisies in someone else's dream!

colporteurs pounced on unsuspecting passers-by like wolves in packs

spectators and dragons arrived in the stormy and cold weather of the second signal system

the wrecked daisies...were for Her, of course

She was a labyrinth within a labyrinth within a labyrinth,
in swarms of meteors in the night sky

he saw Her eyes, so perfect

Crowleyho Tarot říká ,,Císař!"

Poet Video ,,Lodě z Whitby“ pro Tebe …


Studio Midian, Clive Barker, modely firmy Neca,Whitby. Použito záběru z knihy Františka Štorma ,,Stavitelé." Natočeno v knihovně B.B.Buchlovana v Uherském Hradišti.


Ships from Whitby.

Lubomír Tomik

they leave
sails stretched to burst,
meet the unknown

after years

they come back
brings a mist of good news
stories from times,

you don't want to hear about anymore,

it's snowing in april,
a wolf jumped out of the boat and run,

run to You

Karta Crowleyho Tarotu na publikaci Poet Videa je  ,,Císařovna."

Když moc nemůžu chodit ven, vyčaruji Whitby i tady.

A…jen jeden vlk vyskočil ve Whitby z lodi, jistě víš který.

Poet Čtení naživo ve Studiu Midian…kapitola 34.

Crowley - 1 - mag

Čteno, nahráno, natočeno na kameru v notebooku, v nejnižším rozlišení, kvůli množství dat ,ve Studiu Midian.

Zvuk mlžné sirény z archivů BBC , volně dostupný pro neziskové účely , konkrétně: Ships & Tugs: Whistles & Sirens – R.M.S. Queen Mary ship’s siren, three horn blasts, signalling fog warning.

Napsáno více jak před deseti lety, jakákoli podobnost se jmény postavami povoláními příjmeními je čistě náhodná nebo je to klasická synchronicita.

And I held astronaut Peters by the hand.

Lubomír Tomik

Chapter Thirty-Four

The fog is rising

The sky turned strangely white. The fog was born as if on top, thickening into tufts of white cotton wool and falling ominously, almost unreally.
Something emerges from the fog, shadows, voices.
-Knee socks?-
-Green-yellow-red, striped, those stockings.-
-I don’t want! – says pilot Olsen.
He doesn’t look a bit like a pirate. More like a Mexican coffee grower, tight boots, heels sloping. A sand-colored shirt, a leather vest over it, a loose colored scarf tied in the unbuttoned collar. So he goes there calmly, holding a hat like a car wheel in his hands, just new.
He had no desire for any apostolic fate.
-See you, I don’t see.-

  • A little bit? – Olsen asks.
    -Any little.-
    -And the sea? – Olsen asks a second time.
    -I don’t see that either.-
    -So you’re blind?
    -I’m not blind, I only see inside.-
  • But it’s foggy!
    -I’m telling you I can’t see anyway!
    -Base! – Jan won’t be long with Jan when the fog settles! ”Olsen said.
    He puts a huge hat on his head and puts two fingers, his index finger and middle finger on it, he fits the brim – now it’s just great!
    -Is you know a lot? ”Olsen asks again.

  • And so the man tells of the warship Empress Marie, on which he served during the last world war. He was the largest armor of the Black Sea Fleet. It was launched at the beginning of the century and after five years flew into the air in the port of London. Half a mile from shore.
    -It’s a hitherto unexplained event, says the man. First, the warehouse in the first tower exploded, where there were three thousand gunpowder instincts. And that’s how it started. In an hour, the ship was under water. Of the entire crew, only a few men survived…, including me. We saw the rear turret shatter and two monsters emerge like an apocalypse. Then I don’t remember anything, I only came to my hospital.-
    A lady with a pincher emerges from the fog behind the men and says- The men couldn’t do that, it was their job! –
    The other lady appears beside her. He also leads a little raffle on a leash.-No, no.
    One of the women is older, with a flowered scarf on her head, the other rather younger, in a pink dress apron, under which blue pants look down. Olsen gritted his teeth.
    When they both aim Olsen and his hat, it looks like both ladies would like to say something, they both turn their heads, but in the end nothing.
    Olsen sinks into the fog again. The cotton wool closes silently behind him, fits.
    Suddenly, a number of crosses appear, iron crosses that look like the Russian letter ž. They are welded from short pieces of rails. Iron letters stretch to the horizon.
    -These are anti-tank barriers from the ninety-seventh year, ”Olsen says,“ They haven’t removed them yet, but it won’t be long. Everything is running out. This iron will be needed as well.
    He saw them in the darkness of the lab on X-rays, bones without flesh pulsing according to police regulations, hearts beating in the rhythm of a business phone, irregularly, like a Buddha waving a hundred arms.
    Nine-tailed cat.
    Someone covers Olsen’s eyes, two hands behind him. He heard nothing. Not a step, no rustling soles on a damp, foggy street. Now he has to guess!
    A voice spoke.
    -There over the fog the girls dance and the sun shines, they are from the islands… –
    -What the hell girls? What islands! ”Olsen mutters.
    -From the islands in the wind. Palm trees to the sky, blue lagoon. If we got there. I want it! –
    Olsen turns sharply when he feels his palms running back, he wants to know who he’s talking to, but it’s late, the dark outlines of the figure already swallowed by the fog.
    Something was moving in the dim fog.
    Police mold gnawed on the walls.

End of chapter


Crowley - 1 - mag

Camera Freak.

Fotografie od Dimitris Mourousiadis na


Camera freak.

Lubomír Tomik

Netvor za kamerou,
řasy oči rty 

má láska je 
dvojité šroubení kulky

poprvé mě zabije čistě,
podruhé pro jistotu

obrysy nad hladinou v dálce,
mihotavé fata morgány

když loď ztroskotala,
nejdříve jsme snědli

Camera freak.

Lubomír Tomik

Monster behind the camera,
eyelashes eyes lips

my love is
double bullet fitting

 will kill me cleanly for the first time,
second time for sure

contours above the surface in the distance,
shimmering fata morgana

when the ship sank,
we ate first

Crowley - dvojka poharu

-Hoří les! Hoří les !-

Fotografie od Laureen Raftopulos na


My ještě žijeme!

Lubomír Tomik

Na přídí stál Achilles,
brazilec zpíval blues,
oba vykřikli najednou :-Hoří les ! 
Hoří les !-

až se plameny setkaly s příbojem,
kráčela jsi po vlnách vstříci ...

ztratil jsem tygří srdce a skleněné srdce

zapadly do sněhu u Bohyní,
tiše a beze zvuku vklouzly do mrazu

...po vlnách vstříci, stejně:

jdeš jen jedním směrem vstříci mě-

když brazilec a Achilles vykřikli :-
Hoří les! Hoří les!-

krása má nohy, které vždy chodí po vlnách,
s noblesou,

nezáleží na tom, 
který se píše rok v kalendáři.


We are still alive!

Lubomír Tomik

Achilles stood at the bow,
Brazilian sang blues
they both shouted at once: -The forest is burning!
The forest is on fire!

until the flames met the surf,
You walked on the waves to meet ...

I lost a tiger heart and a glass heart

they fell into the snow at the Goddess,
they slipped into the frost softly and without sound

... wave after waves, as well:

You only go one way to meet the

when the Brazilian and Achilles shouted: -
The forest is burning! The forest is on fire!

beauty has legs that always walk the waves,
with nobility,

no matter,
which is written year in the calendar.


Fotografie od Maris Rhamdani na

Karta Crowleyho Tarotu na publikaci těchto slov je : ,,Zkáza“

Crowley - desitka mecu

,,….představuje citový vztah, který symbolizuje probodnuté srdce“


Čeho se nejvíc bojím ? Toho, že Tě ztratím. Více jak dva měsíce jsem nic, bez Tebe.

Fotografie od Seda Tekemen na

Lubomír Tomik

And we can leave now,
our ship is already raising the anchor, pulling it out

a strong wind is blowing
and the vessel stumbles in the waves,

O Thetis, moon goddess,
we pay tribute to the silence,



Lubomír Tomik

A už můžeme odplout,
naše loď již kotvu zvedá, vytahuje

vane prudký vítr
a plavidlo se ve vlnách potácí,

Ó Thetis, bohyně měsíční,
vzdáváme hold tichu,


Crowley - devitka mecu
,,Krutost“ je karta Crowleyho na publikaci těchto slov pro Tebe…

A man in the coat of a dream interpreter.

Fotografie od Curioso Photography na
A man in the coat of a dream interpreter.

Lubomír Tomik

it dream to me about the rain at the equator

it dream to me about
below decks without You

it seems to me that i am the thought of a man
dragged under a keel on a hot night and all the blades of shells are You,
my girl.

Muž v plášti vykladače snů.

Lubomír Tomik

zdá se mi o dešti na rovníku

zdá se mi o
lodních podpalubích bez Tebe

zdá se mi že jsem myšlenka muže
vláčeného pod kýlem za horké noci a všechna ostří mušlí jsi Ty,
má dívko.
Fotografie od u041du0430u0442u0430u043bu044cu044f u041cu0430u0440u043au0438u043du0430 na

Plavčík. Lifeguard.


/for You and for Wolf lost in Poem /

Lubomír Tomik

Even though I'm just a lifeguard,
if you ate more cabbage because of vitamins there would be no scurvy,
coronaviruses and nothing had to happen!

The captain was a woman!

Embrace me lovingly in a meaningful way!
Lower our sails!

I'm just a lifeguard,
I want to sail on the waves of your body,
pass through the Suez of Your lips,
touching Your skin with my fingers,
running over it was like stroking electricity,
feeling dizzy
look at the ground from above,
from the clouds

I confess my feeling for You,
I'm just a lifeguard on a lifeboat,
from the ship which sent Your torpedo eyes to the bottom,
to the bottom forever,

everything is different

nothing but joy and pain,
pain and joy
constantly You. 

/ pro Tebe a Vlka, ztraceného v básni/

Lubomír Tomik

Přestože jsem jen plavčík,
kdyby jste jedli více zelí kvůli vitamínům nebyly by kurděje ,
koronaviry a nemuselo se nic stát !

Kapitánka byla žena!

Smysluplně láskyplně mne obejmi!
Skasej naše plachty!

Jsem jen plavčík,
chci plout na vlnách Tvého těla,
proplout Suezem Tvých rtů,
dotýkat se prstů Tvé kůže,
přejíždět po ní bylo jako hladit elektřinu,
cítit závrať,
dívat se na zemi shora,
z oblaků

Vyznávám se z citu k Tobě,
jsem jen plavčík na záchranném člunu ,
z lodi kterou poslaly ke dnu Tvé torpédometné oči,
ke dnu navždy,

vše je jinak,

nic jiného než radost a bolest,
bolest a radost,
konstantně Ty.

Bouře v očích. Storm in the eyes.

Bouře v očích.

Lubomír Tomik

má loď má ty nejpotrhanější plachty
                                      urvanou kotvu

samo kormidlo by chtělo k Tobě na severovýchod,
je to tak jednoduché,
všichni chtějí mít,
co vlastně chceme my?

přesto, nakonec,
až zbyde jen otevřený oceán a nebudeš moci nic nabídnout,
zbyde jen prázdnota ran,
spiknutí Krásy ,
ticho rán

nakonec je každý z nás jen bloudící lodí
s potrhanými plachtami v bouři a v ní, hledáme záchranu,

v Ní, hledáme Ostrov,
hledáme pevnou půdu pod nohama.
Storm in the eyes.

Lubomír Tomik

my ship has the most torn sails
                                       grabbed anchor
               the ocean
          no one

the rudder itself would want You to the northeast,
it's so simple,
everyone wants to have,
what we really want?

yet, in the end,
when all that's left is the open ocean and you can't offer anything,
only the emptiness of the wounds remains,
Beauty plot,
silence of the mornings

in the end, each of us is just a wandering ship
with torn sails in and in the storm, we seek salvation,

in Her, we are looking for the Island,
we are looking for solid ground under our feet. 



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,

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


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,

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

Rupes Nigra – Wikipedia