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luni, 5 decembrie 2011


Far beyond
A bounce of red chalices
Landed on sulphur of thought
It is said from trunked vows of venomous tongue:
I am the night at fallen hope’s season
My curtain failed  to daemon’s whistled fears
I dare to laugh though it’s broken sparkles of sanity
Might be spelled : sound-like
Deaf patterns of molded shrikes
Where tissue desires unbound the voracious  hand of knowledge
I have sunken under hellish power of faith
A forbidden wish
An infinity of foolish credos drown into acid
‘ve  got strength  upon universal concealment
From all
May crawl by now…………

duminică, 4 decembrie 2011


Author’s comment: Be gone to its forsaken human breed, I gratify its benevolence  knowledge  and its immaculate misconception to FREEDOM OF THOUGHT

I may spring  from  all
whereas I am flirting to Time’s
Lost to mid-way
Escaped graph on my words
Of all
Should begotten  though by  its meaningless
Matters ?
Rough  vows
A pyre unbound
Spit fire
Lore be trapped
By freedom
Nor will be crowned of despised
Hooligans’ sharped  tongues may scream
Their shouts have conquered  the bricked road
Of poor minded venomous guts
Speechless be found  and I  lost
In delusion
Nor by its dust
Or of rust to your thought
A silent playground for all
Landed to inglorious mankind
A broken connection
May ‘bound
To its faceless pride
Shake hands
An bloodshed
Be still
Then ARISE…….


The 5-th Scream

Folio’s  loud voice  may speak:
‘’Beheaded Truth and filthy
Alongside  to its trails of madness
Nor sanity could forbid any of my immaculate
Nor murderer may crawl such an harsh bloody-faced
Above my bowl
A drowned world  develops its patterns
Deep and hither to my ears
And voices sung so  mean
The hour
The hour
The hours –
My empowered words have got
Connected with the bones
And ashen fingers
 Broken past-
I growl  for no reason
Unbound thy  voiceless worm
Though may be called reality
I speak to thy  you hungered puppets
Play into the cradle
Now it’s time
I have no need of language
Nor of your insane  systems
To recall
Of my greed and power
My own dirty hands
Nor cleansed  have christened my tears 
Good - now you have seen through all
Have you seen
Nor likeness or merciful sympathy
It all be dust
Let it be dust and spoiled sorrows’’


marți, 22 noiembrie 2011


Motto:World is expressing the static emotion of the self....

On a leaf:

I rewarded motions to hope’s facsimile
Though it has been thought like
Fancy digressions  to  its multiple echo
Unbound my will, thou hast it’s Time
Would flirt some more to fired up bones?
A monochrome waltz with an iced glance
To octopus’s laugh at me
Though pointless Clown has hidden
Words into her claws
A matter to unveiled DUST.

Connect my sunken hours deep
Embrace the fearless hour
To convey the unlocked gaunt
The sorrow’s sunset on beneath
Discarded faith of velvet notes

11.10.2011, Velvet Notes by Maude

Ecou Candid

Nu  e  Timp.
Va fi timp.

A fost timp
Intrun gand nascocit .
Printre betoane arse de soare,
Pe care zambetul l-a sters,
In bataia razelor .
A fost timp
Intrun joc fatidic
Pe asfaltul incis
De ploaie
Si ore nescrise.
Va fi timp
Intrun alt labirint ,
Oaches si palid,
Cu litere frumos arcuite
Scris  monocrom
O fraza
Va fi timp
Candid  un ecou

22.11.2011, 12:31 AM


Un varf de cunoastere
Si-o muchie de speranta,
Isi impart putinul ,
Intre clepsidre hibride,
O memorie atemporala,
Fara priviri si  valsuri ruginite
Poate melancolia
Unui anotimp peren
Sa spele amintirea
Cu eu-uri disipate ?
Ecouri vexate de gand,
Absolvit  de teama,
Fredona  un cuvant necunoscut,
Despre un razboi inexistent.
Eu –un ego hibrid
Pe-o limba  de nisip.

Yellow Broom, 27 July 2010,  Liverpool, Merseyside, United  Kigdom

luni, 21 noiembrie 2011


I wished to cover up symbols


What can be more bad than a word?!

Meanings are hanged off 

a dead signifier to a mourned signified:


"The language of signs is full of code to life’s and sounds"

A text unwritten to the wall:

"High hopes,
  high hopes,
  high hopes............."

A dusty mouth says : "Leave no retreat"

Butterfly Woman

''Silence steals away sorrows  for good. Its innocent smile shall pour dried up tears from heaven's lust, nourishing flesh hopes beneath the empty sky....Delay my dreams around to  crescent shadows ....''(Author's comment)


Vobis  suus:

An story shares memories beyond acoustic allegories in contretemps

An sign for all those stray thoughts are hanging around with silkworms like to brand an difficult moment from our lifetime. Here up there an labyrinth could describe an trajectory  of fragrances to fickle  its lights. It would be called for gloominess?
One single trace of grey hope is foreshadowing all over the place.
An resonance is hesitating to gleam of one’s eyes for its yield arrows to an bright transparency, when an storyteller started to confess herself on the floor. I am the desert, the infinite of an pale imagery to easy movements. Am I here? For long?...All it has drown into nocturnae of May whereas Time should put an mark on it. Will continue to do so until her breath won’t last for too long. You may ask: how is it so?
It will follow the best answer for it: the butterfly’s wings were destroyed by paint when her pale embrace of Earth washed away the heart stone. She has buried her heart upon  labyrinth’s shadows.
No echoes from labyrinth’s pathways by now. A butterfly has lead on her ruined wings to bridle the daily rotten mask like. You may feel her presence everywhere. She used to idolize Marduk  deeply  under an hibernal hymn  for. Marduk the Serpent God has burned down her heart. The winter’s solstice…..
 All those impressive incantations of life’s patterns must be for occultist pleading with its yellow wings. I’m deep into suffering!?
It winters. Amorphous it will winter to all kind of spasmodic crises. Remembrance shall speak for us.
Lost for an grave worm or of its unspeakable death…..
It has remained for crushing her bones to harmonium of self-illusions,  tainting beneath lightening spheres. She tasted enough from  bitterness potion, it’s too much for her…….She repeats to herself this rambling echo for thousands times where dust has outspoken by selfless views from every side, sitting along with her dizziness ……May I speak to thy? She says  pain ……it  were beats like bones crushing into the mists of hopeless fears, it will be dust always …..Pain has to beat pain between the limits of extremity  like  though  timeless framework to rage’s ravishment. She has thought about all those faceless distresses of woman’s , eternal return for genderless beings walking all over after lost pathways of drunkenness’….Runways to  faraway lovers, LOVE is dead shivering its  innocent ashes …….LOVE was starved to death. It pours like madness enthroned. Nor bitterness shall reign over the shadows ever! It were lightened candles: one for AMOR ET VINCERE ( LOVE WILL CONQUER  FROM ALL)  and another to ARS AMANDI beyond moth-men’s constellation and their crucified fears at dawn. The henchman will be subdued to a confession ceremony in front of butterfly-woman. She laughed at him.
Moron, she whispered. The henchman plays the fool. Moron, she shouts.
The nameless lovers were stick by ARS AMANDI into chaotic ways. The same lust must been told  for wrong  ways, while Time’s Sacred Fiend has whistled awry  from above, butterfly slurs with sharp voice for its shadowy to shed echoes. It will spread her breed all round. Bloody hell! Infinity’s spheres like heartbeats then let it be cold suffering along! It must have known for depression  up to ego’s ritual murder. I am Daemon, she says. I have committed a self-betrayal.  

She was fought with ego’s echoes from the past. It won’t last but it slowly kills me. I’m certain of.
 Somewhere  her soul’s gateways were  ruined. Up there nameless lovers have vanished their pride onto daemon ‘s warm chops. They were sap  from sweet dream to youth’s.
She could be an grave less butterfly wearing  occult  marks all over her body. The cross mark. It’s burial stone was  painted to viridian. Obsessions grew heavy to her.
She mustn’t known what was happened, not even now …………
Labyrinth, arise eternal labyrinth!

(Author's translation from Romanian to English- Femeia fluture)

Femeia Fluture

Vobis  suus:

O poveste isi  imparte  amintirea  peste alegorii temporico-acute

Vobis  suus:

O poveste isi  imparte  amintirea  peste alegorii temporice-acute

O camera labirintica plina de ganduri razlete, ici colo un grup de gandaci care marcheaza un moment crucial din exsitenta noastra si imprastie aroma palpainda a unui bec chior  si rece .Intunecare!?
Un pahar de bon-apetit isi spune povestea  pe o podea, sincronizand miscari oscilante ale sagetilor aprinse.Sunt omul desert, infinit, palid si lesnicios.Sunt aici!?Se ineaca in ceata  nocturnelor de mai peste  care Timpul si-a lasat marcile continue.Cum?!
In penumbra labirintica   fluturele  isi topeste aripile in vopsea, iar nuantele pamantului spala piatra sub care si-a ingropat inima. Un future cu aripi topite sub masca mucegaita a unor cai obscurante fara de care labirintul n-ar fi avut vreun rasunet. Venera adanc un imn hibernal catre Marduk. ……Marudk zeul sarpe a ucis inima.Viata devine o incantatie solemna , o pledoarie de sorginte oculta cu aripile galbene.Sufar cumplit!
E iarna, o iarna amorfa  a crizelor spasmodice. Isi aminteste vag de platosele prespalate ale propriilor iluzii armonice , molipsind sperante  printre  firele de lumina. A baut mult, prea mult….. Isi repeta  ca durerea pulseaza durere acolo la limita dintre agonie  si exaltare , un cadru atemporal si dezumanizant.  Naufragiile apartin dramei eternului feminin , un de facto temerar care alearga in semicerc dupa cadavrele iubirilor pierdute.Iubirea a murit, isi spuse.  A aprins doua lumanari: una pentru   AMOR ET VINCERE  si alta pentru Marduk. Rase amar in fata Pajului cretinat.Bestelita durere?!Pajul e mut si supus unei perpetue ceremonii de confesiune  in fata fluturelui.  O  ARS AMANDI  dincolo de de pleiadele de barbati nimfa, rastiganiti si goi la APUS.  A refacut  ARS AMANDI urmarind acelasi traseu  cu si despre amantii fara nume.  Este un DAEMON cu NUME SE FLUTURE! Monstrul sacru al Timpului  sopteste cuvinte anapoda , iar fluturele ingana  glasurile surdo-mute ale intunericului.Sferele infinitului servesc drept batai scurte ale inimii. Suferea cumplit .Depresia este o moarte ritualica a NEGARII DE SINE.DAEMONUL sunt eu, isi spuse.
Se lupta  cu ecourile infierate ale eu-lui .Ma ucide, incet dar sigur. Poarta sufletului s-a naruit  undeva , acolo intrun punct solidificat in care amantii isi spalau pacatele intre coapsele de fildes ale demonului. Gurile Haosului au secat din seva dulce –suava a tineretii.
Este un future –cimitir?!Poarta cu sine o cruce. Un fluture alb-verzui este o piatra funesta deasupra obsesiilor si fricii care au crescut odata cu ea. Nici macar acum, in pragul unui Timp cataleptic nu intelege ce se intampla. LABIRINT, ETERN LABIRINT …..

Bovenkant formulier

2.       ECHINOX
LABIRINTUL fluturelui  este un  alter ego al sufocarii de sine. NU POT?! Se va fi sufocat sub umbrele inspinate ale unor suspinate ganduri care isi zumzaie ecoul in pentagrama gandacilor.  Un fluture  si  o pantagrama de gandaci  isi varsa obsesiile prin transparenta paharelor umplute cu vodka….Pentagrama gandacilor-fluture  isi taraste clar-obscurul  peste fantezismul absolut al trupurilor ofilite. Si ochii goi decapiteaza tagma pietrei fluture.Dincolo de scaunele meditative :FEREASTRA. LABIRINTUL NOCTURN ISI DESCHIDE PORTILE SPRE LAGARUL  ARIPILOR
SUFOCAREA AMANTILOR FARA NUME!A prilejuit dezgustul , iar fluturele rage un somn etern: E MOARTEA SINELUI. S.P.Q.R.S TRONUL FLUTURELUI  este o fantoma vie?! Tacit?Quo vadis?Versatilitatea femeii fluture are o traiectorie bine definita  o descriere  emfatica a unui punct fix. Plangea!Eul este complet?!Becul paipaie  inca un soi de lumina translucida  in forma de unghiuri drepte. Linia unei femei fluture se distinge printre formele indefinite ale contemporaneitatii, ca un zbor peste aripi albastre.Sub piatra funerara un OPUS DEI cauta INIMA SCRUM.


Ploua.Fulturele este taciturn. Continua sa-si falfaie aripile in coltul ferestrei LABIRINT. La trecut femeia fluture isi panseaza usor ranile.Acum ea face o reverenta obscena  in fata Timpului.Horcaitul spasmelor ingana un atipit  fervent langa masa chinuitoare a efectelor de fond.
Vorbeste afectat despre ERA DIFORMA. Cuvintele sunt atarnate de aripile ei. Pentru o femeie fluture clariatea formelor este inexprimabila. Luciditatea este generata de interconexiune a milioanelor de femei fluture care isi zac existentele  printre barbatii nimfa .Ele isi ratacesc sufletele complete, mereu.Numai barbatii nimfa isi trag sevele din vioiciunea si patima femeilor fluture.
Un barbat nimfa tanjeste la prezent cu si despre femeia fluture. Ea clipeste rar si continua intinerariul : AMANTUL PERFECT ESTE UN BARBAT NIMFA FARA ARTIFICII URBANE .
Barbatul nimfa este SEPULCRAE MUNDI , dar femeia fluture nu stie de ce?! Ochii  femeii fluture sunt inghititi de pamantiul gandurilor anoste.Jocul numelor nu isi  cauta sensul pentru ca femeia fluture a uitat sa zboare. Se simte captiva in propriul cerc. A uitat sa zboare. Ingana parade zborurilor pentru ca ea nu are aripi. O pereche de aripi  marcheaza  o fascinatie continua pentru barbatul nimfa. Perspectivele se relaxeaza in bratele femeii fluture, iar obscenintatea  lor o fac sa sufere. Barbatul nimfa este un punct comun. Linia de start se desprinde usor  si voalat : femeia fluture.
LABIRINTUL  EXPRIMA TANDEMUL ETERN: FEMEIA FLUTURE-BARBATUL NIMFA. Legamantul este ancorat de franghia spanzurata de bec .Efectul este contrastant. Peste un timp femeia fluture va spune:NU

Seeker amongst the wall

Behold its passions of the crowd
Into letters of grieves released
For a silent journey to :THERE


I dare  for more. I dare to stigmatize the age of egotism. It was the first mask, The Revival of Freedom no Boredom to last for more this lays within collapsed Truth.
 On Egotism’s facetted were hidden form all – as above as bellow- like self-defence to  human behaviour. Thoughts have to be declared as resources of mind’s exploration to be as much as you could. A thought could tear apart your self-breath as like heart stoned in the centre of the World. We have lost all the rest and peace, we are dying beneath our self-improved fears. It has got struggles your wits like never before, are you there to contemplate this vivid mood?!I was there before you have come to speak for my emptiness. And the universal arises from high-spirited colours like rainbow. Too many  times I have wandered for nothing in common with the rest of mankind’s breed. I do not belong to obscure and promiscuous fate of Man. I am like I was have never been before: DREAM.

miercuri, 16 noiembrie 2011

quarters into hours

A bleak shape could shiver light
coz words are unknown, untold, 
Over a tired pair of glasses
hides a deep power of it’ s dualism

And now it winters
on a hanged spring flower
at twilight...

It is time
It is time to burn  truth on a piece of paper
to throw up weak sights


On Playground: HOURS 28

The cup of coffee fallen asleep 
Beyond a frozen - awaken eye
Few boiled desires became wishes
to spells

Time had left me
it's wheels forgotten me here
to enjoy a brighten cigarette
Still burning my ideas
wishes to spells
Time had left me
for an hour
a lifetime
a step forward
to it's last drop of sand

Today it's pockets were tight up
to hours drowned by watch's quarters
into wild gardens of infinity
It's time to go now
to Fall Winter
to grey sounds of eternity
or psychotic cries
in agony
for a dusty road and a hand of leaves
enchanting sun's unshaped lights……………..