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MELANCOLIA FULGERULUI      Vlad Neagoe are cosmognia în sânge. Închipuirea sa e inflamantă de spectacole terifiante, de convulsii metaf...

Wednesday, 17 July 2024

THE WORDS MACHINE

 

***

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

YOU SUFFER BECAUSE OF ME

 ***

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

thus in silence.   


TO READ MY BOOK "A TARDY SUN" PLS FOLLOW THIS LINK https://a.co/d/eYkeu0L THX

WORDS

 

***

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

Tuesday, 16 July 2024

OUR HOPE

 ***

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

maybe there where the dog ran away.


TO READ MY BOOK "A TARDY SUN" PLS FOLLOW THIS LINK https://a.co/d/9faypAC THX 

THE PAIN

 

***

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 YOUR BED

 

***

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

THE MAN

 

***

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