***
The words
machine
swallows the silent
desert
in a kingdom
of the truth.
TO READ MY BOOK "A TARDY SUN" PLS FOLLOW THIS LINK https://a.co/d/9IpGsVa THX
MELANCOLIA FULGERULUI Vlad Neagoe are cosmognia în sânge. Închipuirea sa e inflamantă de spectacole terifiante, de convulsii metaf...
***
The words
machine
swallows the silent
desert
in a kingdom
of the truth.
TO READ MY BOOK "A TARDY SUN" PLS FOLLOW THIS LINK https://a.co/d/9IpGsVa THX
***
With immense
despondency you suffer
because of me,
the evening wherein
I left you was
pulchritudinous as your
mouth, on the
eyelids equally gentle
just as life
passes, just as death comes
***
Words shining
with a nothing
drawn by my
death just like
these
mountains that should be
Greek, hard,
dry, mythical, pale,
light, aerial,
spectral.
TO READ MY BOOK "A TARDY SUN" PLS FOLLOW THIS LINK https://a.co/d/fS4WJ1X THX
***
Where the dog
ran away
after he ate
all the bones
over there
gyrates the windmill
that grinds
nothing over there
stays in
crouching posture
the shadow of
a sly Greek
on a stony shore
where grass
for the nanny goats
hardly grows.
No,
unfortunately there isn’t time
anymore we are
between a railway
station and
another one between
a plane and
another one nonetheless
the windmill
gyrates at an accelerated
pace making us
drunk with our fever.
Lord and yet
we wanted something,
we desired
something, but what
particularly? Our
hope fades away
under all the
skies and among all
the people and
among all the animals
and through
the artificial intelligence
and he dreams that
some day he’ll meet
her again he
doesn’t know where
***
The pain like
the hand
of my beloved on
the sea
equally
lonely.
TO READ MY BOOK "A TARDY SUN" PLS FOLLOW THIS LINK https://a.co/d/gnR6IDU THX
***
In the foam of
your bed
like a wound
in the sun
in your bed,
bleeding bitch,
a dead bird in
a puddle.
TO READ MY BOOK "A TARDY SUN" PLS FOLLOW THIS LINK https://a.co/d/0gYwKOU THX
***
There aren’t
marvels greater than the man ‒
what marvelous
consciousness he has
and he’s the
measure of all things the gods
gave him
diseases plentifully so he remain
man as is none
among gods or animals.
They have barely
enough time to delude
themselves the
expectancy is a torture
and wanders
through all the nooks
of the world. And
he feels a taste of smoke
or of haze ‒ he
forgives nothing ‒
and they’ll go
to the place where death
draws her
origins, in the place
from whence the light comes.
TO READ MY BOOK "A TARDY SUN" PLS FOLLOW THIS LINK https://a.co/d/fktOpjV THX