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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’’