ILLUD AD SPECULAE

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

Untouched

I have sunken under hellish power of faith

Faith?

A forbidden wish

An infinity of foolish credos drown into acid

‘ve  got strength  upon universal concealment

From all

May crawl by now…………

Orationes

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

Crowds

Hooligans’ sharped  tongues may scream

Loud

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

Applause

Shake hands

An bloodshed

Be still

Then ARISE…….

28.11.2011

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

Judgments

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 –

shrieks

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’’

24.11.2011