Fourth from left is my daughter, Klára. Photographed 13.12.2019.
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)
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/
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.
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.
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-
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
..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.
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.
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?
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?
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.
Open Your Mind.
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.
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.
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. 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.
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.
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.
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.
Cat's eyes ears pricked up.
Lubomír Tomik
Cat's eyes ears pricked up,
I noticed the subway yesterday
at the Slovácko Theater,
three grandmothers shrouded in cigarette smoke,
they discussed something furiously with their hands
I thought :
- Macbeth will be in trouble soon.-
Someone suddenly blew horn,
crunchy dark red motorbike with trailer passed me,
driver
squinted from behind the fantastic cyberpunk glasses.
No one was next to him,
the sidecar was empty.
In the original poem, in ,,Dinner at Minski´s “ /2016/ were verses:
,,Macbeth bude brzy v prdeli “ ,,Macbeth will be fucked soon“
It seemed to me out of place,now, after years, in connection with the photo of Slovácko Theater…so…change is life…everything changes…now more then ever….WE changes.
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.
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.
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/
Master – Vindictive Miscreant
Irelevantní.
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.
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.
In the picture of J.P.
Lubomir Tomik
In the image of J.P.
eyes
and
maybe a woman in black leather,
maybe She's sitting in the grass ,whispering something to me,
maybe She's almost as beautiful as You.
maybe it's all i want,
perhaps only in the image of J.P.,
maybe it extends,
like a drop in water
drop
blood,
straight from the heart
straight from Your
heart
heart
hea r t
hea r t
hear t
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
I really recommend listening in headphones.
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.
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.
V dálce lampa na pobřeží. In the distance a lamp on the shore.
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.
Bloumání v ulicích Providence.
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.
Nahrával jsem ve stejném Studio Shaark jako Root. Albert Hoffman řekl : ,,Realita je nepředstavitelná bez nějakého subjektu, který ji zažívá.“ Dobrá…jsem tedy já ten ,,subjekt “ ?
Nebo jsi to TY ? A já tvořím Tvou realitu ?
Děje se tohle všechno ?
Jsi skutečná ?
Jsi.
Dainty. Lubomir Tomik Eyes glowed with orgasm, that's ragnarok thought to me, it's a rognarok, it's a regnorak, it's a ragnarok , and Fenrir is already wagging his tail. He would like a dainty.
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.
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. 😯
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.
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.
I erase my poems in PC. Lubomír Tomik I erase my poems. I'm erase them and now, now I'm getting ready for this one! -NOOOOO!!!!!- she shouted. -I will definitely be THE RIGHT ONNEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!- Is he still here?
Banal poetic junk known since the 19th century. /To Milan K./ Lubomír Tomik In the raunchy neighborhood of Edo the sound of wooden sandals crosses a stone bridge. Her eyes, she has a light canopy of sorrow draped over them.
Banal poetic junk known since the 19th century.
The title of the poem is from prof. Milan Knížák, Milan Knížák – Wikipedie (wikipedia.org) years ago he gave me a nice slap in his words, I needed her, thanks. Thanks for You time. These are his words:
„You use banal poetic junk known since the 19th century.“
Time …. a word.
Thank you ….words . But sincerely.
And after Your criticism, I wrote this poem…maybe special haiku.
Try to capture feelings. …..How does a sales woman feel?
Impressive asparagus soup.
Impressive asparagus soup. /For You / Lubomír Tomik part one. back to the scum in the traps of outgoing women, I tilt my head, closed eyes soak inside through the breathing tube they travel to my heart she stares at him in amazement he sees withered blackened bits of sorrow and hatred Hate. Sadness. But it was a long time ago. part two. dreams furrowed by ghosts flying sukkub attacking breasts, saliva leaving the mouth ajar, quiet delicious dripping I'm heading for the harbor barge full of white snow I'm heading for the morgue I cross thousands of lips blackened with opium tincture I walk through the crowd of demimondens with crooked hats I grab the Maguey worm in my teeth the real soul of every human being it is hidden in its own darkness in that unkind girlfriend of us all it is not advisable to look into this abyss you have to try: dreams furrowed by ghosts torn pajama by cocks, in which no one dreams those dreams anymore, furrowed by You we swim in an impressive asparagus soup, all around, over and over. From ,,Dinner at Minski " /2016/
…měla pravdu.
Tarot na dnešní nahrávání… – Midian Poet
Úžasný zážitek.
-převrácený Pentagram. Splněno.
-Nápad spojený s dalším rozvojem čeká v hloubce a je udržován naživu, dokud nepřijde čas jeho uskutečnění. Splněno.
-Uvěznění v pasti vášní…. Splněno, jsem uvězněn v Tobě, měl jsem celou dobu před sebou Tvou fotku.
-Prožívat vlastní pudy jako tvůrčí energii. Splněno.
-Nevědomé sítě moci a závislosti… Nemůžu posoudit, ….NEVĚDOMÉ- to víš jen Ty. Ale ano, máš mne ve své moci, ano, jsem na Tobě závislý.
Samozřejmě jsem nevybral vše, co karta představuje….ale je to ..jiné, vytáhnout ze 78 karet zrovna trumfového Ďábla, bylo to….ďábelské !
A jdu poslechnout , co jsme s Pavlem vykouzlili…..další heslo z knihy výkladů bylo- Černá magie.
Splněno….,co je magie, co jsou kouzla a zaklínadla , než slova, psaná nebo pronesená nahlas ?
–
Selene spurred the horse. Lubomír Tomik The moon bit through the Earth he left a cheese hole so big in it, that all the locomotives of the World passed through it with purple roses on the front bumpers, they pounded with their silent silhouettes of the chimneys of Santa Fe, remnants of communist ,coquetters ,continents Europe disappearing in smoke and hissing sparks sparks sparks sparks sparks sparks sparks body they are stored in their positions of mortality you stroke their faces they lie down and cover them with dust open me and take my beating heart in your hands massage him with a fist try to revive me Selene spurred the horse. Both Dioscuri smiled.
I saw in Number 1A. Lubomír Tomik Through a crevice in the fist in Figure 1A I saw: Cheshire Cat and outlines of whales the body of a shipwrecked ant lifted hedges of the French coast contours of the breast in the middle wolf eyes mainly two rifles for rats pea pods falling to the ground during autumn legs of an eighteen-year-old figure skater after training coated with gear oil on the upper left welcoming the citizens of the tragedy bamboo from the pomegranate forests fake geisha as in Japanese paintings he stands by the river and discusses the long lines of ink for a long time head of a laughing old man from the mountain legions stretching through a snowy pass Black Panther God Pope with butterfly wings man with mirror hair owls crooked couch on which sits a Chinese porcelain doll fish with an open mouth sitting staring at you statue of a napoleonic soldier one-eyed dog creeping in the grass two figures in animal furs pressed infinitely together a pile of fallen broken red heels, I saw through the crack in my fist in Number 1.A.
Crowley's personal boy. Lubomír Tomik how many ice floes in the shape of protozoa, swaying on the freezing stream of the river, probably february, dripping condensed breath, how much blood flows in the veins, how many generations of the unborn pass through the vas deferens. On the side of the road, protruding intestin, eyes full of tears , cat fur coat embedded in asphalt road. Crowley's personal, rusty boy.
And again….
Doporučuji první poslech VE SLUCHÁTKÁCH. Ideálně přitom zavřít oči.
I recommend first listening IN HEADPHONES. Ideally close your eyes.
I'm looking for Veronica Lake. Lubomir Tomik I will crush a thin one hundred and fifty-one inches in my arms, even though I don't really know Her, I'm looking for Her. In the back alleys full of paper bags from cheap alcohol, in the trunks of abandoned cars, cars squirting at night, in incinerators full of flesh of Ethiopian tiger meat, in the middle of pine forests. The last path leads over the ridge, through that rattling pile of bones. I'm looking for Veronica Lake, I'm taming, sometimes it's better when it's like this.
I eat Ezra Pound at breakfast.
Lubomír Tomik
at breakfast I swallow Ezra Pound and the metric system of rail poetry
at breakfast I swallow hot coffee with milk sprinkled with a drop of hysteria
I take off the gravedigger 's socks
I take off the watery brioche
I'm cutting down,
falling to the heat of Your fireplace,
strike out with a match,
I disappear,
I will disappear with thousands of sparks,
inside You.
Take it easy, girl. /For You/ This is how he imagines the first settlers, a mixture of troubadours and fools, right hand carelessly caught with the thumb face with meteor scars burning like him ride lightly, girl ride lightly the path is littered with the remains of the eyes ride lightly girl ride lightly the road turns to Night This is how you imagine your first lovers, a mixture of shapes and superciliary arches, right hand carelessly hairy over the thumb, face full of smiles of saber-toothed tigers, nothing has changed nothing has changed nothing has changed ride lightly, girl ride lightly as long as it goes it won't be like that forever.
Natočeno ve studiu Shaark a je to to nejlepší, co jsem kdy udělal, tohle…je pro Tebe.
Recorded in the Shaark studio and it’s the best thing I’ve ever done, this is for You.
Doporučuji první poslech VE SLUCHÁTKÁCH. Ideálně přitom zavřít oči.
I recommend first listening IN HEADPHONES. Ideally close your eyes.
I recommend first listening IN HEADPHONES. Doporučuji první poslech ve sluchátkách.Opravdu.
At Lola Montez's table. Lubomír Tomik And the girl who is Lola Montez said that evening: -I don't understand what you're writing.- I looked into her eyes and suddenly I saw her walking down the autumn street dressed in a coat of sad smiles snuggled into her thoughts unknowingly digs up the infested leaves which then rises around her and swirls as if in the eye of a hurricane beautiful will count the prematurely coming darkness lightning flashes on the island of Pharos unique and charming. What it's like to live in the dreams of teenage boys contemplating on Beauty?
Natočeno ve studiu Shaark a je to to nejlepší, co jsem kdy udělal, tohle…je pro Tebe.
Paul Speckmann dnes ve Studio Shaark dokončil nahrávání vokálů pro připravované album, na němž spolupracuje s Rogga Johansson – Encyclopaedia Metallum: The Metal Archives (metal-archives.com) . Mohl jsem být u toho:
Opravdu neuvěřitelný zážitek, být u vzniku hudebního alba. Být při tom. Hudba Mr.Johanssona je velmi povedená, skvěle se doplňuje s Paulovými texty, s jeho zpěvem. Titulní píseň ,,Beneath the bleeding sky “ je , jak jsem již několikrát napsal, pecka překračující hranice žánrů. Stejně tak ostatní skladby.
Díky, Paule , za nevšední zážitek.
Přeji Vám , ať je album posluchači dobře přijato, ať si najde tu správnou cestu k lidem. Nejsme všichni jen Pokusná morčata v lidské formě, jak zní název hitového songu z alba, jdeme si za svými sny, rveme se o každou minutu, o každou píď země, o každý okamžik. Co jiného v podělané Covidové době zbývá . Nahrávání je dokončeno.
Pro mne pobyt ve Studio Shaark teprve začne, chci v něm zkusit nahrát svou poezii, pro Tebe, dívko, ale to až někdy jindy, nyní proběhne závěrečný mastering ve Švédsku a za několik týdnů bude album na světě.
Poslech doporučuje Mr. Speckmann!
