Discover the Magic of "Full Moon" by Vlad Neagoe

  Discover the Magic of "Full Moon" by Vlad Neagoe

Under the silver glow of the full moon, where lightning flashes illuminate the soul and wind whispers through lace-like verses, a profound journey awaits. Full Moon is not just a poetry collection—it’s a luminous experience. A breathtaking tapestry of enlightenment, where ethical depths intertwine with poetic rhythms, transforming fleeting moments into eternal nocturnal gold. Vlad Neagoe’s distinctive voice captures the untamed beauty of existence: raw emotion, philosophical insight, and a haunting elegance that lingers long after the last page. Critics and readers describe it as:

“Poetry of wind and lace… hard to capture as the lode of the lightning that penetrates the earth, turning into nocturnal gold.”

Perfect for lovers of introspective verse, romantic souls, and anyone seeking beauty in the quiet mysteries of life. Whether you read it under moonlight or in the stillness of dawn, Full Moon will awaken something deep within you. Available now in paperback and ebook.
Let Vlad Neagoe’s words light up your night. [Buy "Full Moon" Today] – Because some books don’t just speak… they illuminate.

YOU REVOLVE AROUND A SHIPWRECK

 ***

You revolve around a shipwreck you wake up

in front of a wall, you have to go back, you were

not fated to pierce it or to blow it up, therefore

retreat and defeat you say your prayers, God

doesn’t read and you don’t know what’s the use

of so much suffering, of the persecutions

that are administered to you by the cannibals.

The martyrs say that the suffering has only one

goal: that one to open eyes, to awake the spirit

to know: you suffered therefore you understood

for this you endured the illness or the iniquity

or any other form of misfortune. That it makes

you a kinder man? Nonsense. He is kind the one

who was already kind. The suffering is useful

only for the knowledge and, apart from this,

she does nothing but poison the life.

The tranquillity comes from the thought that,

being a man, you are born under an unlucky star

and that all that you undertook, and all that

you are going to undertake will be cradled

by the bad luck and anyhow someday it will

fail. Every victory, let her be apparent, too

brings spiritual obnubilation with her.

The oblivion is what you are. Let us at least hope.

The eyes that believe that they invent the light

awaken the wind.     

YOU WOULDN'T WISH THE LIFE TO FADE AWAY

 

***

You plunge equally into the interior

and into the boundary of your being

you wouldn’t wish the life to fade away

simultaneously you feel as if you are

as null as a dead water that exhausts

the barren stone and only god on a rock

non-dispersed neither by the shadows

nor by the world, believing yourself to be necessary.

YOU SCRAWNY MAN

 

***

You scrawny man, you skinny man

push me from the heart the vortex

whereunto you run is silhouetted

in the window as in the full moon

within the curly, quarrelsome light

the cruel mass of the death the Dacian

dukes drink their poison, laughing

the woods leap up, the mud intensifies

the orgasm I grow, I fall out of you,

scrawny man. You devour me

from you shall I live until distracted

your name upon mine the already

extinguished sense with the arms

crossed upon the chest until you

regenerate in other terrors

you regenerate in other tricks

and other nullifications, annihilations.

NOI CUIBURI DE LEGIONARI ARHINAZISTE

 

Simone Weil ne convinge că Moise biblicul

a fost primul Hitler al omenirii și cu asta

iudeii se mândresc. După tiparul lui jidanii

din România au făcut mii și mii de cuiburi

de legionari Jigheara supernațiste, superrasiste.

La Banca Națională cuib legionar jigheara e

la Ministerul de finanțe cuib de legionari  

jigheara e, la Ministerul de Externe cuib

de legionari jigheara e, la Institutul Cultural

Român cuib legionar jigheara e, 

la ministerul culturii cuib legionar

jigheara e, la Radioteleviziuni cuib legionar

jigheara e, în învățământ cuib legionar

jighgeara e, mai nou și la guvern cuib

legionar jigheara e. Și sunt nenumărate

cuiburi legionare pe la departamente,

agenții de asigurare și alte mii de agenții

și departamente care au un cuib de legionari

jigheara unde ei sunt stăpânul și ei sug tot

banul. Niciun ziar nu-i care să nu fie dirijat

de cuibul central de legionari hipernațiști jigheara.

Acestea sug și usucă tot bugetul țării,

pe când aborigenii s-au făcut slăbănogi,

slugile lor oropsite. Și acești jigheara

distrug cu brio țara și-i sug măduva.

Să nu aveți o țară, urlă acești șacali ieșiți

din dinozaurii Sodomei! Și aborigenii

sunt pe cale de dispariție. Deja aici e Jighearia.

ROMANIA

 

Over here the name himself of this

country panting, forcing herself to defecate

hurts your soul the bellicose arrogance

of those who populate her, of the guests

and of the citizens of a different chosen race  

hurts you too. As if from underground is

audible the weeping of the rascals,

of the petty thieves the wailing

of the slandered women beaten

to death: the love of the Devil is burning

inside the women, only the wind knows

the bitterness of this damned region

that still doesn’t let any bud of love arise

in the soul. Look, ye bandits everything

drowns in the mud, howls a Gyppo manele songster.

THE STOMACH OF THE PARANOID LEADER

 

***

The stomach of the paranoid leader

demands that the soup be hot

but the tongue of the corpses be tender

the blood on the wound be like the salt.

The criminal tyrants make plans

for their stomach, too a despicable

interference in the nature’s matters.

For us, coming into life doesn’t exist.  

THE MAN BELIEVES NO MORE IN HIS DESTINY

 

***

Petrified time

the man believes no more in his destiny

will he disappear?

The man, what novelty!

THE DOG-HEARTED SECURITATE BARD

 

***

The dog-hearted Securitate bard

smelling of pig’s fart flower

feels a strong pain in his guts.

“Poesy,” he says to himself, “lives

on perpetual barbecues, I have

to stick them into the brine,

to rat on as many people as possible:

certainly, I have the last word,

but I utter it in such a whispering voice

that nor can I hear it only the warrant

officer hears it and he lays his hand

on the throat of the traitor gypsyish  

patience supports me and I forgive no one

I always listen to a song of lark

of my innards.”

I AM NAUSEATED BY MY FATHERLAND

 

***

I am nauseated by my fatherland

with the contaminated blood

and the bitten tongue – she reeks

of gypsy woman’s cunt flower

in a cul-de-sac she has no place to set out.

THE ERASURE OF BESSARABIA

 

Only when everything is silent within us

are we able to glimpse Him, the One

who fills our silence and the soul

of the one killed by the rabid barbarian

with a bullet fired into the nape of his neck

a bunch of grapes hovering in the void

pouring drop by drop a rainbow describing

him in the arms of the Lord above his house

occupied by the assassin the hands of Christ

full of bitterness and of mystery above him

and the Comforter full of dolour today too

above the killed houses wherein the happy

assassins pullulate. The silence and our

incapacity to pray are deeper and deeper

the cruelty of the barbarians acuter and acuter.

We must search for a house of ours in the skies.

We are as sad as Christ on Maundy Thursday

in the Passion Week. We must know how

to always be grateful to a terrible enemy

because he renders us to ourselves because

he liberates us from the dispersal and from

the dilution because however he works

for our good. The barbarians are just as

they themselves say our rescuers subjecting

us to trials to humiliations and to innumerable

sufferings hoping to destroy us. Yeah, that

always supervenes in reverse. That’s why

the killer is the true defeated man.       

JESUS CHRIST AT THE LAST SUPPER

 

***

Jesus Christ at the Last Supper

leans in consolation from too

far from here over the one to be consoled

as if He were to be consoled pushed

from the death into the death

outside His cloud of death

from outside He leans forward

and consoles. He rather comes

from our soul like an uninterrupted

inaudible rustling as in front

of a railway station in a borough.

THE LONG BLACK EYELASH

 

***

The long, black eyelash fallen

on the page of the one-century-old

holy book moves in front of the verse,

“Woe to you when all men speak well

of you.” The eyelash glides down

like some shorts like a mushroom of Satan.

FOR SALE IS THE CHEAP REVENGE

 

***

For sale is the forgiveness, for sale is the cheap

revenge, for sale is the soul and the dog

that bites his ass and the death that slaps

him on the nape of his back, the motion

that he makes is flawless. Therefore, we must

forgive for the simple reason that it’s an arduous

and almost impossible thing. All the people are

petty and don’t think about anything but revenge

and they do it with much liveliness almost

without thinking. The singularity of the forgiveness

is like God. We shall forgive even with the blood.

For sale is the candy on the koliva.

THE CANNIBALS OF THE APOCALYPSE

 

***

The cannibals of the Apocalypse

prophesy no more

squat, their pants down in the brothel

having diarrhoea. With them sang

encouragingly vocally and instrumentally

the castrated and the transgenders

under a round blue gate

as well as a woman crammed

into the mailbox and blood

flowed from her nose.  

WAR

 

The blood is flowing, and the soul is taking

flight the only occasion to set our senses free

under the eyes of the original comforters

fags who meticulously prepare a catastrophe

to stick it into you and you depart for the Death

as if you knew that a party, a joy, a celebration

are awaiting you and alcoholic beverages, drugs,

cigarettes of that kind that cause harm are forced

down your throat nonetheless the forehead

of the warrior is still wet with blood the riches

spurting out with every huge explosion!

The atrocious death is ash. Nor are there

corpses – ashes and diamonds.  

Between Life and Wind by Vlad Neagoe: A Lyrical Cartography of Transcendence

 Vlad Neagoe’s Between Life and Wind (2017) is a poetic volume that stands as a testament to the enduring power of Romanian lyricism, offering a profound meditation on the thresholds of existence. With over thirty volumes of poetry to his name, Neagoe has long been recognized as one of Romania’s most gifted and accomplished poets. This collection, written in English and spanning 180 pages, distills his mature voice into a series of poems that are as rich in imagery as they are in philosophical depth.

🌬️ The Poetics of Liminality

The title Between Life and Wind signals a thematic preoccupation with liminality—the space between being and becoming, presence and absence, flesh and spirit. Neagoe’s verse inhabits this threshold, crafting a “tragic and profound horizon of transparence on the verge of words”. His language is not merely descriptive but evocative, conjuring atmospheres where wind becomes a metaphor for impermanence and life a fragile vessel of consciousness.

This liminal poetics is reinforced by his stylistic choices: elliptical syntax, musical phrasing, and a rhythm that mimics breath and breeze. The poems do not resolve; they hover, inviting the reader into a state of contemplative suspension.

🎨 Sensory Intensity and Symbolic Density

Neagoe’s poetry is “flooded with a heightened sensory awareness,” a trait that aligns him with the Symbolist tradition while also echoing the existential lyricism of poets like Eugenio Montale and Octavio Paz. His images are not ornamental but essential—each one a cipher for metaphysical inquiry. A flower may bloom “unexpectedly, fatally,” a moment may be “webbed,” and illusion may be “equated,” suggesting a world where perception is both revelation and deception.

The poet’s command of sound—his “strong power of rhythm, music and sound in language”—creates a sonic architecture that supports the weight of his metaphysical themes. The poems are meant to be heard as much as read, their cadences echoing the wind that threads through the book’s title and soul.

🧭 Philosophical Bearings

Neagoe’s background in journalism and philology, along with his doctoral studies at the University of Bucharest, inform the intellectual rigor of his poetry. Yet Between Life and Wind is not academic; it is existential. The poems ask: What does it mean to live on the edge of language? How does one navigate the winds of time, memory, and mortality?

These questions are not answered but enacted. The poet’s voice becomes a vessel for philosophical inquiry, drawing the reader into a shared space of reflection. In this way, Neagoe’s work resonates with the tradition of Romanian philosophical poetry, from Lucian Blaga to Nichita Stănescu, while carving its own distinct path.

📚 Conclusion: A Cartography of the Soul

Between Life and Wind is not merely a book of poems—it is a cartography of the soul’s journey through the invisible currents of existence. Vlad Neagoe offers no easy truths, no comforting resolutions. Instead, he gives us wind: elusive, omnipresent, and transformative. In doing so, he affirms poetry’s power to articulate the inarticulable, to trace the contours of life as it dissolves into mystery.

SOURCE : COPILOT 

COGITATION

 If my writings are fated to perish — let them perish; let both the sky and the earth perish nonetheless the expressed Truth will remain. 

ESSAY ABOUT "AND WORLD'S MEMORY MOVES" BY VLAD NEAGOE

 "And World's Memory Moves" by Vlad Neagoe is a thought-provoking literary work that showcases the author's mastery of poetry and prose. Published in various editions, including paperback and eBook formats, the book has garnered attention on platforms like Amazon and Alibris. With prices starting at $20.13, it's accessible to readers interested in exploring Neagoe's unique style.¹ ²

Author Background Vlad Neagoe, a poet, essayist, and prose writer from Moldova, brings a distinct voice to the literary world. Born on March 2, 1952, in Tănătari village, Căuşeni district, Neagoe's background in journalism and pedagogy has likely influenced his writing. He graduated from the Pedagogical Institute in Bălţi and studied at the Faculty of Journalism, Chişinău University.³

Literary Themes and Style While specific themes and styles in "And World's Memory Moves" aren't readily available, Neagoe's work often explores life, death, love, loss, and memory. His poetry is known for its surreal imagery, existential reflection, and metaphysical musings. As a writer, Neagoe's dreamlike quality and philosophical depth have drawn readers to his work.

Editions and Availability "And World's Memory Moves" is available in various formats, including paperback and eBook editions, on platforms like Amazon and Alibris. The book has been published in multiple editions, with prices varying depending on the seller and location.⁴

Conclusion "And World's Memory Moves" by Vlad Neagoe is a captivating literary work that showcases the author's unique style and perspective. With its availability on various platforms, readers can explore Neagoe's poetry and prose, delving into themes of life, memory, and existence. If you're interested in learning more about Neagoe's work or exploring his writing, this book is definitely worth checking out.

SOURCE : META AI