Červen 2014

Poeme (Sound poem)

27. června 2014 v 15:54 Poems
Poeme

A sound poem composed of rhyming words, syllables and letters of the English alphabet:


For curiosity, the script of the poem is here:

fox box dogs locks mocks coax clogs frogs fogs jogs hogs togs grogs slogs logs bogs cocks flocks pox ox docks crocks cox clocks docs docks balks blocks blocs caulks chalks chocks crocks gawks hawks hocks jocks knocks knox locks lox mocks phlox pocks rocks shock smocks socks sox skquaws stalks stocks talks vox walks monologues dialogues analogues catalogues synagogues travelogues epilogues demagogues pedagogues es es es s s s s s s s s s s s s s s s es n es n es es es is ks ks ks s s s s s s x x x

Retropia

22. června 2014 v 21:26 Poems
Retropia

I loved your flat
and loved your cat.
I loved your wife,
your way of life.
I loved that smell of places
loved your airs and graces.
But the greedy time
's taking back
what wasn't mine.


Blues

21. června 2014 v 21:41 Poems
Blues

Time has run out
as cheap garbage booze.
Life is at stake.
Either you let it loose
or take.

The grass is greener

20. června 2014 v 21:17 Poems
The grass is greener
on the other bank of river.
But the bridge is not so wide
for me and you walk side by side.

Song of silence

11. června 2014 v 19:37 Poems
Song of silence
(tribute to Walt Whitman)

I sing myself
I celebrate myself
I sing the song of
silence
silence audible
silence visible in the still lives of our souls.
So what I assume
you shall feel
And what I feel
you shall assume
For every noise
must begin
in silence

Poignant wish

11. června 2014 v 19:23
Poignant wish
You said you were too lazy to make love, so naked we watched the flies buzzing and climbing up the curtains. After few minutes both flies (a green one and a black one - odd couple) disappeared through the open window. Now we watched the curtains lazily dancing in the light breeze.
"You hungry?" I asked some time later, not turning my head towards him.
"Yes," he replied, eyes fixed on the curtains.
"Go and help yourself."
For the next half-hour nobody moved. The heat in the room became unbearable. Unexpectedly, sheer silence was broken by a double knock on the door. I stood up and slowly walked to confront the unknown impostor. Only then did I become aware of my nakedness. I went back and put on my bathrobe. It's all fluffy and it's warm in it as in the arsehole. By the time I got to the door, the buzz was heavily attacked.
It was only George.
"H'ya. What's up?" was his greeting. "Oh, did I interrupt you two….??"
"No, we were just watching…" I let George pass into the living room.
"Yes, what's on?" He looked around the room and finally realized we didn't have a TV.
"Sold your telly, hm?" he asked eventually.
,,No, we never had one, actually."
I went to the kitchen to fix George a drink and then caught a glimpse of something unusual. George holding a thin white square object made of paper.
"What's that you're holding?"
"Aah, this? I nearly forgot. I found it in front of your door on a doormat."
He flung the envelope on the kitchen table.

"Hey, Pete. Did you buy another birds online?" I looked at the empty bird cage placed on the wooden stool near the sofa. Only trashed newspaper and sunflower seeds remained as evidence of late canary birds. Pete said they were a couple of love birds, but to me they seemed ordinary canary birds. However, we didn't keep them very long. Pete couldn't sleep during their mating sonatas and we had to sell them. But I could swear I saw one of them in the local park, so I have my doubts.
I mixed orange juice with vodka and passed the glass over the table to George. "Cheers." Then I put the kettle on and prepared some sausages.
"So what you're doing today, guys?" asked George.
"Nothing special. We're just watching - " I replied.
,,Does it grow?" George stood by the window sill and examined four empty flowerpots.
"God knows. Haven't seen any traces of life yet," I sighed.
,,Mine has just sprouted. It only needs enough vitamins."
I went to grind coffee beans and kept watching George from behind the open cupboard. I saw he poured some orange juice with vodka in two of the flowerpots. Then he sat next to Pete on the sofa with his sausage plate.
"Oh, gosh! Could you, please, cover IT?!!" with a fork he pointed towards Pete's naked cock.
"Any problem, bro?" Pete asked in reply.
"I'm eating sausages, you see. It feels like eating your damned dick, for crisake!"
"I'm hungry," wailed Pete.
"It's on the table, honey-bee."
I took a blanket from the armchair and covered Pete from waist down.
"Thanks, Luka," said George with deep relief.
Then I put the dish between Pete's legs.
After some minutes of solitary chewing, Pete exclaimed:
"How I crave some good grass…"
"We ain't got no grass."
"So what are growing in those flowerpots?"
"Chives, you fool," I said.
"And what do we need chives for?"
"For eating, nah. Grass's expensive."
After some minutes of solitary coffee drinking I went to the kitchen to wash the dishes. My sight fell upon the envelope. Mr. D. S. - who could that be? I tore it open. The single sheet of paper fell out of it.

I read it as I was washing up. Have I ever wished anything? If I did, what was it? Suddenly, I felt someone's hand under my bathrobe. Then I felt something more than a hand. He pushed me towards the kitchen sink. Dirty dishwater soaked into the fluffy bathrobe. I thought it was Pete, of course. What a mistake.

Wanderer

11. června 2014 v 19:11
Wanderer

He reappears in our dreams. Sometimes for a short split of second, sometimes for longer. He's like a shadow, a solitary figure, a minor character. He walks by unnoticed, unknown, as an image belonging to the realm of collective consciousness of humankind. He creeps in, wanders through our dreams looking for something he needs. And it is only in people's dreams he can find it. His collection has just one thing missing. Even today he might visit your dreams and take out something precious, or might not. And there's this girl. He's sure she has it. The very last thing. But somehow he couldn't penetrate her mind. Either she doesn't dream at all, or she's protected by a thick dreamwall. But he can't stop now, not at this point, on the threshold of something magnificent, not now when everything makes sense, not at the end of this dream journey. She possesses the thing: naughty and selfish, yet gentle and altruistic, pure and sinful, naïve, harmless and violent, innocent and calculating, that clear raw substance, naked and subtle for which all humans crave so much.
A sudden idea sneaked into his mind. He would meet her face to face; he would find her in outer space; he would step out of the dreams. He knows better than that. He would dare to talk and she-she would…Of course she would give it to him, because: because what? Because we all want to believe in impossible things, I suppose, to persuade ourselves that miracles can happen.
(quotation from The Book of Illusions by Paul Auster)

Short Howl 2014

4. června 2014 v 19:09 Poems
Short Howl 2014
(a tribute to Allen Ginsberg)

I saw the best minds of my generation
destroyed
by madness, high-tech, e-schools,
crying in high-pitched voices,
delirious, oozing, flegmatic, naked
willingly
on the internet, faked.
face-crooked, instagram-ed, i-made,
filling the void with mac-food,
mac-teachers and GMO.
self-deceived, self-pitied,
self-raped with ecstacy.
with disbelief, eating muck,
on nights of boredom
looking for a joyous fuck.

Pot-smokers hiding in dens
of their apartment blocks.
Shattered pieces of clever minds
merged into herds, packs and flocks.
robbed of history, one's own self;
fed on moment's dreariness.
life packed in a claustrophobic tin -
- USB.
beings transmitted through ports,
invisible, alike, thin as air,
trying to distinguish themselves
hollow-eyed, pale and vain,
ending up being exactly the same.

Young city angels
who believed the world will end in fire,
not in sulky ice.
who loved for the love's sake,
until it proved to be sex in disguise.
who opted to be wise
but let their brains be washed.
who lived in liberty,
freedom
of market,
perfumed toilet paper,
kiwi shampoo,
soap with honey,
honey with soap,
- but found nothing
only will to cope.

PLUS: here is an audio version of the poem: