Gene(me)sis…

In the beginning, men watched the horizons, and ploughed the earth. And the earth was without form, and scattered with rocks; and darkness was upon their face, and in their hearts, deep... And the spirits of men moved upon the heart of the matter, and men said, “Let there be gods”, and there were gods... … Continue reading Gene(me)sis…

Massada…

But who’s this blind-child of my lonely memory, unwanted morning yet unfollowed by another? Whose time we chew, whose banner do we tear apart; why bother? Alone, bewitched by what complete would mean if empty’s so rewarding, stand I and mourn… I’ve lost my mind, I’ve lost my senses and lost has grown the day … Continue reading Massada…

“Not dark… yet… ” – Schizophrenica Magna

I would remember any time available for thought. I could avenge all memories chewable, or less... I should attain for nothing more than senses... I? Me! Why? Why's no one else available for thinking? Why so alone am starving here for waitings, I...? Bye... Just me and I...

Silence of the lamps…

...on existentialism Of scars and bars I am remembered, Long time ago when sheep we were, and lambs; When every “tender” felt like thundered, Within the silence of the lamps… Some other moments I may wish to follow, But there’s no “other”, there’s no “that”; Just crumbs of an existence, shallow, Like the perspectives of … Continue reading Silence of the lamps…

Social poem 1

They're all gone now. Swallowed down by windy pipes gone by... Some hairy brushes sinking low below Those every seconds left untouched. Where's time now mum? Where is it m'am? So fond of words, so fond... Label me life; label me as you would label toes... Dead, cold, as the reminder of an unpaid day … Continue reading Social poem 1

De Profundis…

Ecclesiastes of A Job... Of despair my heart is bleeding, Something wrong must have happened today, Pieces of breath, frozen singing Memories searching their way. No more, no shore departing, No dreams to brag about, Cowards and dogs shouting, Swans never flying south. Tender whatever with roses, Bitter garment of thorns, Open which nobody closes, … Continue reading De Profundis…

Of Psychoanalyrics and Psychoanalyrism…

I do have quite a -proven- record of linguistic maverick-ism, to the sometimes loudly outspoken frustration of some of my fellow writers, critics and others (writers and critics maybe in their own right, but not mine). Convinced NoamChomsky-st, applying his "Language is a process of free creation; its laws and principles are fixed, but the … Continue reading Of Psychoanalyrics and Psychoanalyrism…

The other side of blindness…

If side, there's always there, another... With no communication but the bridging self of the betweenness, like the torn flag of broken, subdued ideals... It's the betweenness oftentimes the side of otherness, spread, squeezed, immense, belittled, there, forgotten victim "rightfully left" paying dues to the left, to the right, to whosoever's shameless "I've been there … Continue reading The other side of blindness…

Abiding deep…

Abiding deep, like drying, reedless water; unwanted, bitter tasting washer of anything offered, dumped, forgotten there, where light has never thought of dying... Making its way to any fountain, well; to any pond. For seas are salty teardrop oceans, eyeless witnesses of what it was when clouds were roaming free embracing winds, of south, of … Continue reading Abiding deep…

Suicide from death to life…

It's a lie, our birth into this world... Mourning should have welcomed us, late, but perfect companion for all sweat, tears, blood and "doctor, doctor, the baby's not crying..." tube in, suck, "slap", "slap" "-frail, agonising human meowing...-" Blood all over, with our hideous, blueish cut away companion swimming in a pathetic plastic bowl... "What … Continue reading Suicide from death to life…