Creeping whim
Opposite to whipping cream he is creeping now his whim just because a weeping willow looks exactly like a widow on his screen. Self esteem is growing weak and she has a visual leak. All the words hang in the wind like a novel fluttering and the self rotating spring keeps her wrapped in white and pink. That`s not good conservating. people think she didn`t love, keep a rock under the cloak and advance like murmuring consolating old good things. Nothing else is perturbing. Two young girls are like a swing using the same smile I think. It`s enough for them to bring to the lady of the lake. I don`t know if mister Drake is the one who wants to apologize for all the animals he has eaten. He keeps bones and flesh together for whatever happens next. Everybody in the text cut open a mouth to speak, add a drop of Atlantic and two drops of Pacific. Who`s the next? No direct critic. Some keep a lunatic mood in a busy mental wood. Would I? Or the others will believe that I`m rude? And will break a Hollywood in my head and I`ll be nude? What if she is half Gertrude that we knew before the fact that her husband is detract? I`m a kind of pizza-dude who`s delivering the worst wishes trying to comfort her dishes. And I`m sport for bloody people who believe in elegance. Is like having a romance with the people, for the people! I`m the pig of covenant, I was crossing the old bridge when hooop! this cortegee. I became a protegee. For all goods and for all beds, she is fitting me a yes in a long and silly phrase that I owe like to express, to confess and to obsess all the sadness that I guess she now needs a little rest. I`m opposing arm, caress and if necessary breast to her beauty in a stress. I`m the brother in this case. And I think we will progress.
Dramma-maker
Dramma-maker with a shaker: He is trying to be shore for a wave of happy ending all the floor. Engulf no more! Enough is fruiting like a milking in a country side kitchening that it happens to be mine. Scratching all my Valentine and find looser number nine. Everybody did a crime! And my hair is on shine color marker. Even so the story-blender made a slender out of blue: didn`t know that pine and apple have so many things to do with my blanket almost new, like a baby full of tears I switch gears towards you, screw and screw and kill all dears for she fears seeing you: seeing you is like Botanics for a blind on avenue, no impression city fashion and the spots are red and true! Excess berry, stop the cherry and remove the berry blue why all saints a man like you xxx the straw is little known: swimming in the telephone is a woman helping you. Are you sure you are ok? This is not my holiday out of week to be with you. Wait a pic of our two! Stay en garde with apron issue from the drawing under sink. Don`t exagerate with Drink! Can be obsessive with you! Oh, my goodness, is this shirt? Cos I think is only dirt with a belly out of pink. All men hate such underthing! Dressed in tears you`re like granny arguing for any penny, reminds me of Mary-Lou, who in turn is not like you, she`s as decent as a fairy and she tells only the truth: harachiri mother goose! Lose of me and lose of you!
Hang me out of town with you!
Because you`re tall and slim and I`m like a rock. Because everything around is kinda block and you already have a rope. Because you have the groceries don`t let me run against the slope, be realistic anymore it`s not a tip. It`s something more. A kind of Evelyn Gilmore who kisss you darling through the door, except you want a corridor to run your dog and keep the score. Because you are elevator and I`m your neighbour under floor, behaving like an aligator: your water runs like never-more! And I am shaking! Animal-eating when poufff! All your bath is carpetthor in my bedroom. Are you sure? No,..., I explore like finding some fish in the store and you think it`s a stupid race and look towards my big disgrace with blue kind of candor. I`ll fix this soon with a condor (?). Man, are you healthy or it`s flu? Coz I would like to flu with you! Are you the famous man-actor? What makes you act just like a kiss? I`m not a kid nor kind of thief. I want to fix your pipper`s leak. I know you`l pay a little mor` like go to Hell, I want to snore, my time is floating and you bore a sneaky-tricky kind of Micky. Am I deaf or are you noisy? Or, we both are like a dasy in a field that is too lazy? I don`t want to go like crazy, you know, hands like talking, nose like growing, I Pinocchio you before you will understand a thing: I am here. Everything. And I`m Core!
Holding a House
I`m holding a House to be with you, how much do you think I can stay here like a caryatid in Temple-Boo? It`s me, not you. If I hate building that`s what I do! And all the ceilings be over you with my big power on top flat you! I flatt you two, like little rats dam cursing you towards the trap! I`m naking you with naked crap again and wrappp! a taco-bell is ringing in my ear or two? Inviting you with me in Hell at Malibu humble Hotel. And you say well, I`m not with flu, so I might kiss the mystic you and still be able not to tell why am I feeling so dam well? Are you a beever bit of man and I`m the river out of blue who keeps you busy underneath? Is this a sort some of a flute that keeps you floating? Building it! Unless you are an Eremite, you know, a mountain top of meat, alone in a Skete and everything. Maybe I should one thing repeat instead of talking. And that thing choking little bit. Like puppeteer in old story who seeks the glory of his boy this is the ultimatum toy. Decide-toi!
Everything
Everything is Fine, splendidly blue and White with pink stars, do you? And there is a flag underneath to keep it all waving like a woman saying good-bye, does she? And your melancholia is linked to her but you pull like crazy and wish to have a scissor for that, isn`t it? Bloody left-handed things are faraway in a shop where you are not inside but in a completely different place as departure from home, got it? No turning on green pasture with you and Lorette reading a book for kids and laughing out loud cos now she`s probably married to someone that is not you, again, kidding me? Kidding her with a few kids on the same holly pasture which make sense only when you try to remember sweet things and cry, for somebody`s sake, don`t you? Oh no, you really have to go my dear, don`t give me this sad face of yours as never see each other again. Who knows? In your home sick town house somebody will scratch the lucky number and you will be able to come back like a big deal and make me being a divorced woman for good and for bad and 4 times inlove with them other men, don`t ask me who! Ok, it doesn`t matter anyway, important thing is we are together now, is it? You thought I`m just another mistake because nature is so puzzling, you din`t expect to see me again like a cool guy laughing with your neighbors for a big treason, are we? You can`t believe it`s me, under your curtains something is trembling, is that your cat or am I laughing again at a stupid joke of ol`good Tile and you think I`m a bastard now who will rape his daughter only and only to make you get out, calmly smiling towards something else, a hen maybe, hey, how are you again? Why the Hell is the daughter so familiar with this crook, half gangster half mobster hand in hand with her when your hen is a wreck and you should cut her throat, all women are the same! Make a soup, make your husband think is good tasting, make plans with him towards that idiot neighbor who knows nothing about boiling liquids and still have such a daughter! Such a long line of spooky words coming out one by another like riding a plane in order to arrive faster to her, broke me? Don`t break that, is our last souvenir, I still love you woman, don`t try to make a divorcee out of me loud, will you? I`m a foul, I know, don`t insist upon, I should of letting you catch butterflies with that old boy of yours and make an insectarium as big as this wallpaper with you too in the middle, only sky and herbs, let`s talk about the soup now: Can I have some more? Or is forbidden by all heavenly laws of yours being sorcerered by the window as bright honeymoon with another foul? Is the hen still there? By all means and by Jove I will kill her again cos you cook sooooo good! You are a cook-born-cheater double crossing the kitchen like dreaming, old fat wife, you! I`ve never had such a wife, just you, just eating your recipe with no lamento and giving all my money like Ma Baker woman is baking some potatoes? Butter or olive oil? See? Now everything is fine. I will erode that guy by the bone, he will regret him coming back from bottom to top of the hill, forget about everything with you, closing his eyes when he sees you, God bless neighbor`s daughter, Mary, she`s so cute, isn`t she? One could die for her... in suspicious way like mushroom unknown, like bull ridding in the wrong direction, like interstate road back to hell he came from, like cross-cross-cross off! Is it? Love the dessert! You`re a dam` good enough house wife keeper when I`m out of order now so don`t try that trick on me! Obliterate! Our bedroom is flying with the old pictures, this is our heaven and nobody`s else and you have a nice blouse-wife so many holes in a lace aren`t too much? Override my bad words with your rubber, and I will do the same for you, let`s buy a new white curtain for the cat, just me and you?...
43. LOVE-STORAGE (from tumba-yanna, short stories) She knew that she suffers from an incurable disease, like restless on needles, and that she is going to die soon. Her fiancé knew it too and he was laughing more than usual, exaggerating all gestures, being aware that any opposition excites him more and its useless to resist like a tailor in front of a silky piece of cloth. Her family knew this too and all their friends and neighbors. It was like pouring whey through a broken cheesecloth, faraway, in a sheepfold on top of the mountain. The sheep also knew it, they were well aware and they were boredly accepting to be milked for people like that, looking up toward the God of Sheep which made them sign with his thumb in his mouth like : shut up, hell you! Shut up and endure a little bit more. He knew it also, the wind, and raced through wormwood and other bitter herbs, The Autumn itself knew it and verdigrised everything that was falling under its heavy gold hand. (Dragon didn't know it) . And, to tell the truth clean, even the the Devil knew it. Yes, he knew. And he was laying in his den with bright green eyes shot toward a fixed point, shaken by the first and only human feeling. He wanted to eat a quince. There was no news left to be learned, all the ears were withered and pounding in the informational void, all the deformities could be seen with the naked eye, and the fiance was caressing them all. He loved her in such mechanical way, he wanted to troubleshooting her somehow, moving her from one foot to the other: they were dancing ... They were dancing, yes, and everybody was standing by the window and looking inside, there was a bear too who was taking pictures for hibernation to make it easier, like a diaphanous prose while sucking his paw to be happy until next spring next to his bear-she, though he does not deserve her ... Do you say that Dracula did not have a Dracula-She? Correct. Dracula-She was as healthy as a cannon, she whistled and cut wood. She also knew that the heroine was irremediably sick of something with an unbearable name made of candles lit on the black velvet full of wax, she knew, but she did not want to approach the winter unprepared. She was making black cherry confiture combined with blackberries, baked eggplants, and, generally speaking, she destroyed all that had darkened colors by dragging them through the forest, grinning. The Devil, cautious, pretended not to see her. It was painful, that a young girl like her was going to die at the end of the booklet and he wondered why she complicated herself up to the point of making the idiot believe he loves her when she knew she will die and still danced with him at the stake. The irremediable things are dealt with differently:
- You're almost dead, I have nothing to do for you, just dance faster, and kiss me more often.
- I can not, I barely stand on my feet. I'm going to faint.
Se was able to fall out, to fall blue in the blue air, to forget about her and to live a little more behind the curtain, emanating slides of elephant sadness in which others stumbled, wiping their eyes, and so on.
- Is she still dead? Yet?
They were relaxing for a few moments, making the list for the after-funeral Christian Party, slapping their too curious children, and then announcing that the mirror was still steaming a little bit more. A winter brize made them raise their heads bent over and look again. Yep, she was there. She fluttered with him, who already had a long-standing wolf figure of a novelist because he was sure he will write-describe a novel in which he would appear dancing with her at the window in the fridge as two scarecrows of readers with a wide panorama towards the basement . The crowded feather-like movement, the glitter of glittery sparks like an acute pain in the background, all that the Devil instilled him in that moment to awaken him for purely sweet purposes that he had once blamed, but now he accepted them. WHEN SHE WILL BE DEAD ... With these words all his thoughts begun now to run, and the mob thoughts too begun with these words and the bear”s too. When she dies, a blessed spring day, we will rest. When she's going to die ... what amazing things we will do, will we go mad completely ?? And what happens beyond the novel, beneath the last transparent page, does she get up again and the whole hospital starts to throw bricks at her in a furious self-demolition, others with the big cakes brought to the sick-dear-ones crushing them on their round faces, she walks in a transparent night-shirt in lunar and funeral mood advancing ten steps per second. Is she Flying? Does the cinnamon fall out of her like old dust of redemption in a mortuary site Rosetta Stone? They had fallen underneath the novel, it was a small, sprinted world of ideas that stung you. Why not go in countryside with her, why dont give her some sweet wine to drink, what if we kiss her on turns, like a soul rinse, to see how she reacts? If she's drunk she'll accept it, she does not even know what she's doing... Alfa-Beta... Here the author stands upright and big on two legs:
- Oh, no one touches such an Appearance! Everyone with his nipple and paws in his equipment. Plus heavy justice swearing like hell if daring to harm her.
The novel was so soft and hot that it was stretching with other novels, very unclear but tasty and delicious: the Dracula-She was still cooking there. Alone. Let's not say sad because the poor-she did not have a handkerchief. She had only the frying pan and that big smoke, the collapses of shriveled grays in which a wild boar was smoked on the back without even suspecting it. Paralelipipedo-dude. He had no idea, is he hibernating or dreaming awake? He felt so GOOD under that warm tempest that all his spines were on and high on his back. Was he on the beach? Where the bad'mother was? Tangling and messing the hemispheres? Is he inclining them hemispheres with his slippery weight? What did he look for here holding a Dormant in his arms that sent him ants on the funicular through his trembling pastry?
--Come on, let's go a little further, there are others waiting to be smoked. Winter will come tomorrow! I know, God, it will be tough. I want Pintea (romanian outcast) the Brave to give a helping hand. You say this is only a Liric Death, bro , I'm sorry I do not have a human engine to make me feel normal feelings like any living organism. Par green and Par bleu, have all gone yellow! (them colours)
50. SHE HAD (Avea, from tumba-yanna)
She had a vinyl baldness in her hermelina fur coat that she usually covered with a hen. In other words, she had 3 out of 10 in Zoology because she did not know the difference between fine rappers and grouse, which made her grandmother to tell him he is like a woman already. As if adolescence is something that you can keep still. In the hope that I will not lose any idea I would like to describe how she walks on the street, from the back, she was like the Hypocyrta Radicans with that bright orange hair where you could make a wish at it and she would not have caught sight of you, so she continued to walk in a careless mood. I hoped she had a secret meeting, but she did not. She was not necessarily ugly, sometimes watching her I forget about myself, I could see only a bit of nobody there who did not have time to ask her what”s up so one day I put myself down with three flowers in my hand on the middle of course, determined to receive her with sweet appearance in order to make her falsely feel good.. I myself was dressed in a gray autumn combed suit, and my whole human ambition was to make her think she was sympathetic being and had something to give us, the others. My soul was partially like a spunk, but in other way was curious to see how a fanciful woman reacts when she understands that she is dear to ME. Not for that I would have done something too obvious, no, my genre was much more neutral, I am respectfully arrogant especially in the moon of January when the snowy carrot nose announces that there is no one at that time barefooted on the street. I'd like to have champagne, anyway, three roses are like a vision that pulls out of mind any idiot woman like her with vinyl-baldness hermelina coat painfully adorned by Hen. Finally, here she is. I'm imposing her in the center of her route, unfortunately it's not the sun in the sky, it's just the vague epicenter of the advancing autumn under the soft clouds that shines. She does not have any observation towards me yet, she goes awry in the morning-to-lunch time rather cold, I iwill nvite her to an ardent thing: my body needs grimace from time to time too, like any other warm body, although I am not a common man. She cares, sure she cares, has no other escape than to see me shipwrecked in the middle of the pavement with three flames orbiting toward her like three concomitent suns at sunset. I do not understand if she's completely hallucinated by me or carefully wrong, which gives myself a sense of joy looking at the showcases as if she knows, hey, that I'll give up at the end, she'll hit something soft who will not hurt her. Which will not make them black stars anymore around her clear forehead. So ugly, with Clementine aberrations, she has no choice but to cling to me to make a good call in her ear, to wake her up with a pair of rapid palms. Looks like a dildo, I'll slowly teach her to be a housewife ... She made another step to me, shit it like a thrush if you want me, shake me, I have two bright eyes you say it's like a jolly pussy from a sparrow on my ice shoulder. I'm doing the proper cleaning plus removing dandruff not seen too much on that cult costume. I'm exultant. Something like that, however worshipful that her whole orogenetic body is clinging to me as it comes out of the crust. I do not understand, however, what she does with a hen and me with a grasshopper that jumps to that sublime height of the chandelier. Finally, this is a home-remembrance from me when I was a terrible height and my mom laughed ... anyway this is just a childhood memory, dont know what its doing here, somebody else. I mean, I was stupid, and I was eating mussels like any kid of my age, and I'd have to stick my ear to an old vinyl. Romances of it might. Ioana Radu, something. Stuffing stuff, thick voice, lipstiking rope, old matrona. Forged and abandoned in the lake where I turn faithfully around but she does not move. She would want whipped cream with coffee every morning, you horrible her! I'm recovering, cursed grunts of literary writers broke by fault and so many broken iambs in my internal harmony. I'm coming back to you, look how you walk like an idiot to me, you're a wrong girl, and you've got cilindrasse like a damping in my drops. Lovable, but especially malicious, swearing with you will have a great salvation. Get in good with the deburators. Because I and only I owe to you, the cow in your head teaches you badly ... She has gone past a showcase of hers, as if she were to see a movie of parallelepipeds in resumption of static, glassy elements ecstatic with unknown objects, not seen in a neighborhood with funeral tendencies as it was combined with Sinuata Statice, her favorite flower she often cultivates as a handicapped person on any continent, so I might hate it, but I abstain somewhere. Now it's close, I can only miss her if, God, help Me, do I dream? Yeah, a shabby little boy in a short pants shop is throwing at her neck right in front of me and catching her, kissing her, kissing stupid clothes together, laughing, WTFIH, I'm also sorry for something I can not say, we were waiting for someone else, Mr Bean, we, the poor ones, I was expecting someone else ... Good luck, that after her comes a nice little girl like a doll, a little stature, with a green glove of another blue that perfectly understands who I am and, in replica, I jump on her with the bouquet wounded in velvet. Good or bad, I was able to describe her too while the stupid boy of the shop does not end with his Giumale in pieces beside her, in a way I enjoy tears that did not come to my high level, only I know who I am, only I can suffer to my level, always, only my devilish divine disposition can make me wait for me forever discreetly, maybe under tarpaulin, the main one like me who could be greater in the whole world? The doll passes her palm through my locked sight, yes, she's there, I'm here, we'll put a few miles of hedgehogs in the fir tree under the cottonwool to see what's hot here. Don”t you feel like you”re repeating yourself a lot, girl?
44. The Seventeenth Chapel (from tumba-yanna short stories)
He watched her again like watching a golden fly through the dusty silence of the vitrifiant case. Being as lonely as he was, you could have forgotten him at night in some archive, rummaging the shelves in front of a luscious lunar background that shoe-shone. He is charismatic, but that does not help him anymore to deal with the irrecognizable portraits of martyrs. He should not have forgotten that he was here for Luluţa, only for her and nothing but to love her with the churchy owl- love he was feeling for her. Luluţa went ahead with other flutist visitors, and he felt a little bit older, somewhat stringy, like a boxer dazzled by the whirring storm. His childish part released on a sunny terrace was smiling in his memory, and he wanted to believe that there was a secret passage through which he could get out of mankind and reach Filaret (old railway station in Romania). No, he had no way of expressing himself so directly in front of all those moody men with their hands on their chests. He wants Freedom, right, but not so much freedom. He was smart enough to stir an anthill and find eternity there. He could rejuvenate somehow listening to the French tourists whose tongue with turtles makes you dream. You do not see Luluţa again and panic puts a needle in your neck from which you could freeze all around : Luluţa, who do you vote for? Why are you leaving me here to feel so miserable? ...
And yet something in that holy silence sounds like an amiable pact. Luluţa appears somewhere upstairs, illuminated by a hidden light bulb concealed with charming power on her body, anointed with lavender oil under all circumstances. You know, sweetheart, I want a kiss ... The others thought you were worshiping something, suddenly stup(id)ored, warm under the flourishing tie. And you, poor you, felt like dying. Is by any chance possible for Luluța to be Zea Protector of this Seventeen Chapel? It seems to be too obviously elephantine, out of the canons, like one who has been tired of living among jars, considered a mere living thing. Plus, her running force is equal to a trampoline that jumps through the garden called Rai- Heaven made with a single flower, not mentioning that that flower was brought from The Eighteenth Green-House. He has no piano to oppose at such a piccolino musical threat, take her the hell out of his sight. And who do you think is descending serenely on the ladder as if all the dust around her flies? Luluţa. That gruesome idea makes him screech, he did not know about all the muzeistic loops that put your art ideas in pre-established order on a tray. Knowing that he would have made a good wicker basket, letting himself go on the wave like Moses towards the young lady ... He was not covered with fur, don”t use that kid of words, rather he dominated the animal side of him, smiled to Luluţa, to the ideal zone, rises in two pointers and balancing toward her like a duck tapped this: No one in this world has the right to give Me a Hint. First of all, he's a great altruistic figure with about sixteen knots on the handkerchief, which in Romanian means a catchpenny in a long lane of skinflints. Then, cautios like slimy old troll wolf, he is delaying so long in the bathroom until Luluţa was really bored. His plaster consciousness is like a statue of David, the one he tied himself up to so they will not be able to pull him out of the pasture. He was getting up by himself like a nouveau riche, but the creeping speed weakened him. Next time, he will insult Luluța directly and righteously, not to dismantle him from his archimandrit style with aesthetic soft bells because he is the only holly one and only him will be saved. Salvaged or finished, also a finished one. New visions assaulted his tower. With a more German face, they say he's the nocturnal blower on the second channel, more punching, more dead in his doll. Luluţa also visits the after world in the fresco led by a he-fox who tells her all the data we need? What a sorrow ... The redhead, trained, hunts her all over, he seems a lucky guy, and yet he smels at her bastard veil by saying all kind of lies just to sip her into his soul bit by bit. Morning treachery! Luluţa will die, his rigid banal icon will strike at her softest side, get out you all children from the infernal scene where we will collide a Mater with a Pater in thousand pieces. I do not believe in the Precipitated, but I believe in the puddles. And the occipital part deeply engraved will be. He felt the taste of the earth in the pink gums, and the top of his head flourished like a lily. Luluţa, my dear, would you like a freeze-cream? A fake-pistachio cake? Anything you like, just let me stay all alone with you, I am single to be. I miss a pussy, a pearl lipstick, sorry, a carriage, through your blonde hair I think you still have a thread that I would like to shoot through my jokey mind and then blinded to hail! What were you doing for the guy with that kind of smile? For your historical purpose only, no matter how dear to me, it becomes definitely stressful and full of stitches, do not scream that it hurts, the thin audience only knows me that I am the promised one, the Bridegroom! You will sit locked still in my arms in the roundel poem, to see if He can touch you any more! Blemishing folklore!
I was born in the kitchen
So I started to cry. Peter took a pan and made me look like a pie.
-- I”m your father from now on, grow or die! Double go on! Make me feel like Pharaon in a summer close the Nile talking to a butterfly. Sure one day you”ll start to lie, lie to me, lie everything, you”ll be like her and I will sing. Meanwhile remember I”m the King. Run your shadow with my eye. Cheese smell and milky way God will make a better day out of me and you. Broke one truth but kept a word: I”m a solid human gold. And I hope that you”re not cold. You don”t realize I”m old, later you will see nice faces, but too late, my hon, will be. Understanding harmony is up to nobody, or me.
-- Look, I shouldn”t talk so soon, I still have one foot on the Moon, saw your window, thought is cute, pulled my heart from Lilliput and yes man, here I”m put. I”m not cold but I should be. Is this weather just for me? Silver zip please close, smarty. Born to rip the history! Cheese smell and milky way I will love you anyway. Took your language, sorry much, is there sugar in this ranch? Not to mention French pastry, saw lack of delicacy... I don”t know the hell is me or this kitchen is a cell, I will sleep and you will clean, be sure that one Halloween i will dress like Sweety Bride and you will hide all your pride like a yellow submarine.
Self-neglecting wi(n)dow
The comb in her hair goes mainly in the air with her starring in a window. That`s my widow! Here and there I find big clues-less everywhere. And if I give a dam her speed will fall again, no need. Meanwhile I read, I`m in control. I read like Hell. I`m going well above Purdell. And even so, I flatter her and she widow-like responses: come here at onces but not at twelve. I`m self-neglecting me in bath and doing slowly kind of math. And eat Crudelle! I beg again. She learns-me-how, my prospective is now a mi-aw.
-- Widow-a-day and you`ll be fine. If crap surrounds us nose the swine. She looks like scare but crow don`t mind cos him just got out of a pound. And reluctound.
-- Compound is sound for pound in bound! It`s wrong to put a rime soufflaund!
-- I know. Be quiet. Take a grand. As nanny, dear en-passant. Have no idea of Durand. The hell is he? An employant? Why keep in rain such brilliant? Venez-avant!
-- She`s NOT my aunt. She`s just Constant. I hate her being insinuate. I reverent revertebrante. I throw some mirrors in the sand to see her passing cette instant.
-- Are you Karmant? Is this a way-out or a stunt who hula-hoops me with a ring but without saying anything about descent? I feel the scent of him incense if this make sense against the wind.
Translate ( În transă printre late cele )
I”m in a trance now, latter! By letter I will let you know my love. A sweater is on the armchair and it”s not mine. But I can bear it coz Valentine is on my side. The street is sunny like Golgoth. I goog a lot but I”m not Fanny. Just Mae or Mica the morning spot. Except Guernica, can”t stand that plot against my money have anti-dot as self-prescription of you a lot!
-- Is this a slate-roof? Cos I”m the Fall. Just give a look here and crush them all. No, I”m not small. I give sensations of anti-scroll. A leg is over but I can dial so stop just yelling and say good bye all. Put bed in order under the sky or I disorder my body-lie. Fancy maneuver but I”m not Hoover, I hope the lawn is not too moany for fewer hits. Could play the Bonnie in clay-o-bits and still be granny of all the wits.
-- Don”t make a horror out of your kids! Allow my honor to judge you better: is this the sweater or panty-bizz? It looks so easy like see-and-freeze in Hollo-breeze. I”m on my knees and nose together to smell the weather like doing quiz.
-- Don”t put together these words of sorrow. I”m happy-ending and you don”t care. Just be aware of dogs and shadows and I will follow your closely case. By closing poems you ruin phonemes full of compassion for pour limbs who crush the sweet crust like making big trust of frutty-tutti over the dust.
-- You treat my blonde hair like trying to split my thread into four, unrealistic expectations you have from my happy sensations of deja-mort.
He's in the motion
A rusty mechanism, the Grievances, has been set in motion, how else could we get out of stuck the dreamy prince? The struggle of man has resemblance only to his wandering shadow. When the world broke loose, I cried out for him and he did not come , but I left him a long thread to use it as a feeling-transmitter, maybe sometime, repentantly, he will take the right step. Thinking he is upset would be such a hard feeling that you would break nuts with it and he would say it does not hurt him though he would get patterns on his thoughtful forehead full of parallel and luteal wrinkles. What do I want? Him to sleep quietly in the deer's nest where if he sacrificed anything at all hope it does not hurt him. A gentleman easily grinned at me like a veil , I did not even feel it, I was busy doing the bride so brisk at the cops like the pen that you tapped the ink X Miasa, the unbearable.
- Give me a little javelin to make an extension because I have an electric current flow with my mother and great-mother. I think he was crazy on the playful side of the road since he had forgotten his wand and wanted a judge as good as a flattering mouth.
- Oh, do you have a kilogram of watching? I forgot my teaspoon of useful drops. Did you know that the pigeon has a smaller flying force than the squirrel when he sees a Scarecrow?
-- I do. I thought it was calculating, but it's kind of just like that Frightened flight. I hope you have a landing technique if not, watch the cat you and take the example as such her. And end with the net in front of the computer.
Timeless watch running dead
Silent display of prints around the house: somebody will steal the nice watch and all the rumors you will cry. Better cry first, fists on the wall like rock and roll wild Indian pattern you go! The thief will surely let the courage slow and the snow will do the rest. But you need to convince him. Do you really need the watch or is what you bought thoughtlessly from a yard sale so faraway? What are you interested in, anyway, Sir? We also have a cat we might bonus you with it. I”m old, my wife, Lilith, is almost 75, the neighbors are old too, we don”t need the watch, just give 20 bucks and scratch the path backwards.
-- I collect watches, my old friend. I like to watch them brief-casing my sobriety up to the second floor where nobody lives anymore. What I could be? An amateur? Voleur? A Dorothy bad skirted on the floor?
-- Don”t joke with us. You”ve got what you wanted. Be safe!
The thief is disquietly listening such lamento nobilis who are able to give him a kiss but not the watch, not now, not this, not go inside my paradise!, faintly whistling like nothing happened. Some outburst may get out of this. Some gossip like ”Tomcating” with the others to own a rabbit”s foot as soon as possible. You turn the light off, just think he”s gone and a new snow-flaked cover will hide the truth. Again. Don”t try to look pattern. Outside, the window in the snow go yellowish on blue, like love. No shadow of yourself on it, the visitors will go as he is agoraphobic , hon, you know... Is there an attic in the sky with sweet armchairs on-the-fly where stupid thieves don”t try to hit? That”s pure wit. You”re safe again. Again you split. The thief is never good enough to bite your feet. Actually he thinks he is only your dog. That”s it.
Cinema Veioza (little night -lamp Cinema)
A more classical film pour from the big, bitter upper film, a kind of greenish air with queer hints of quince, in which the heart was silent because all his reason was drawing. A hardworking girl was taking the ancient painting forgotten in the nail, making the sun she wanted and dedicating it to the sky. I can not believe she sees these emerald things that the great Herald has stunned on a screen in Disney-Land. Are the cartoons Șhui? Because Feng was left on the fence like an old dry leppard, but his eye was washed through the pink-yellow contemplation. It is autumn, surely we have this kind of shades that he gave us to browse , moving with the events and yet remaining fixed, evocative.
- Everyone is Kafkal, brother, we all have this plus a talent to invent, to lie, to pass through the deafness of facts by overlooking them who have made bad literary labels in this laboratory and torch visions to illuminate them mistakes. Greetings from Labrador! (he speaks)
-- Merciful is Single One-Self. The rest is with cheese like Lafontaine”s corbeau, if it sings he looses it all, and we take it back from the beginning. The excavation in ignorance was done with the tir'scope and now he would like to stomp them holes and put a big cross on top with the inscription: Banal! But on the way he forgets his purpose, he enters in a stain-shop like an old car in which the man has remained perfectly molded. He was seeing me in the back mirror and believed I was throwing his head upside down. Well, what's the noise? If the head is gone, we'll take a little bit of it, even if we'll die in the process as drooling goes along. (duios anastasia- adormirea- trecea, romanian river-movie) . If you have this call than take also half a cake provided that we have so little champagne and brought it directly to the main subject, Idiot you!
--We”ve made a machine gun for these bad kids by fashioning a branch without a panther hanging on it and with a firing top towards you all. A sentence from Kipling makes a whole adventure novel fixed to us with many needles that together make up maybe a nail. (information is too diluted, i think)
Apricot she-thief
Am doing crazy, Am doing lazy, Am speculating with you a lot against
'the mirror my self-deduction of stealing nature with apricot. You think
I`m crazy, you think I`m lazy you try to stop me but stop-me-not
I keep advancing with all my fingers towards the garnish of super-cake
you think I`m lavish, you want a break, you try to give me an entrecote
why hell is so far for you to push me instead of picking my apricot?
-- Are you in San Est? Are you a plot? Let`s eat more modest, close your
mouth-slot, I want a hammer to lift and drop like nutty-cracker. I love
your dress. I love your restless extenderness, why fruit so stupid they keep
so high, are you just trying to play-and-hide? The park is wide, when you
were Bride you didn`T ask me to watch your cry but now I want to, or
maybe die. Your little finger is in the pie, a cat would suffer electric supper
for such a lie. But I keep hanging my stupid tie sometimes like roses,
sometimes blue-sky. I hate your IQ but can`t complain coz I`m in vain,
like in a tub, try to forget you: you`re eating sly like Holly Molly
the sacred pie...
The he-thief she
You have arms all around me, I wonder why I feel like Shiva-butterfly, but I deny
I have just two try to stop you for good and bad get out of bed or I will cry and
you will red. Be. Step-at-me and you will see another ind of agony: the double pea.
Affair for you is kick for me like resting English in Dubai, go fly the boat, I”m not
robot for you to tie. I”m ferry-boat! Believe or not. Got apricot and peach and why
you think about me as com.plot? Dont even float from balcony like hooper-grass
in other thee. Just be x Be. I call you maxim robbery, you”ve got the best of strawberry
and still you hungry me as fee? Shut your copy, fishy crap!
Romanian translation for Apricot she-thief= Ea și piersica o lua
Am ca ceva ne-bun, am ca ceva leneș, am o speculație mare împotriva
mea, în oglindă, cînd o văd cum vrea să fure piersica. Știe și ea că nu-i
în regulă așa ceva, vreau s-o opresc non-stop și non-stop încerca. Iar avansa
cu toată palma spre podoaba aia de pe plăcintă, aparte: el crede că sunt
prea leneșă să fac așa ceva, vrea în pauză, incearcă să-mi dea una între coate
dar nu mă ajungea cu jongleria, nu-i reușea. De ce iadul e așa departe ca să
mă-mpingă-n el în loc să mă lase dracului în pace?
-- Ești în San-Francisco, ceva? Cum îți permiți să debitezi despre mine ca și
cum ai complota? Fi naibii modestă acolo și închide gura de la pușculiță, slut-o!
Ah, vreau un hammer să mă plimb în sus și în jos cu el ca Ceaikovsky în paralel.
Iubesc rochia ta model porumbel, Iubesc cum te întinzi fără limită, de ce fructe așa
coapte pun ei pe plăcintă? Vrei să fac fața-ascunsa cu ea pe fața ta?
Parcul e mare, cînd erai mireasă nu vroiai să mă lași să te văd plîngînd,
acum aș vrea, sau poate chiar moartea. Vezi că ai deja degețelul în cremă,
o pisică ar participa la cina cea electrocutantă dac-ar putea, dar nu e după ea.
E pentru tipi cu cravată schimbătoare ca mine, cînd roz cînd siniline.
Îți urăsc IQul și el pe mine, dar nu mă plîng căci sunt zadarnic în baie
în cadă încercînd să te uit cum mănînci ca o scrofiță Holly-Molly
afurisita de plăcintă portocalie.
I`m illuminating with you!
I`m crossing your words for better understanding of myself.
I think Im kindda Michael. Except Im fluid blonde and naked
out of blue. Inventing you was easy: I killed the kangouroo and took
the jumping system out of him for my voo-doo. You see, the world is
happy only when me and you pull out the fading colors from deja-vu
and do. I know you are a pumpkin, Pompelmo is like you, Romeo is
romantic but I am here for true. So try to be more practical.
Flying with me is something out-of-head like being carried with
no reason by Monet through his poppy sleeping field. Your response
is all I need, and you will remain vivid till a sunny afternoon, when
a memory will bloom: you`re in a pompous room eating honey
with my spoon.
About the others they will receive strips upon their faces, like
soldiers in war, but not upon their backs like hither-to-be in a
fast ceremony of their own. Now, be a good owl and go to sleep.
I'm fooling him around in Trinidad
Tobago. I am allergic to her as Jivago. But nobody was waiting for me in Orlando. I had her heart in a torpedo that galloped me up to Toledo. Tip Aolio! Does anyone see us?
- No, honey, you're all over! Stop screaming. With me sabot is coming forward as a co-driver, it”sok? Voleur-Sade! It collapses in Bissau not to see what role you have here. Neither Don Ramon did not understand. Enamoron of all? At his velvet age, when birds saw a blue lump up in the sky forward us. Is this the new wave? Is that something new? Did the devil came in a charcoal boat to Mangalia? Fake so, absent, with a cement shovel in which Ana begged him to be more careful. Watching her? Attentive to everyone? Careful to who- someone else? Attentive to Mona Lisuia.
- Do not press on her now that she's making crunches on your hand. Repair brother the hole, I no longer dreamed that this fake ancestral guy was in the boat. In Czech Republic. With turn around to make sure that you love it. Beau Geste we make from Bo Gest to be heavenly more honest and more relaxed. Tutorial, honest man! Stop filling to shame cos I'm indigest!
- Two meters of perfection is really too much for a meter and a half of stupid man.
She left me a shoulder
To put the scarf on it in case I could pull it off the model on that wet street where Holly Paparudah had cried: did you catch the rain in Obor? Or it's a test of silence made with a screamer who's going on along the showcases without a sound? I thought I had no money for myself, I thought I should go down, bother The feminine loges because his hair of flying sailor it”s after me again and his support shoulder is good for me. In one cloud he had shaken his glass, in another he was shadowing himself black, thundering in a whirling circuit: you've caught that night as something overwhelming? I mean, I'm going to throw myself at you with the agitating apple, it”s striking rocks to cross this decoration, in Ayurveda pity his locomotor system was wearing a full wardrobe: you got a cheater and playing Oarba's Babe with me on the computer? Take metaphors from the mermaid, and poured them back into this spring without seeing any observative neighbor.
- I think we're talking about the recidivism, that he's accusing. You've got it all with you Maladiva has no cure. But whoever cared about it when he left his wife for a scarf with cranes that carried our heat to other fields with winds?
Dialog between Paramecium and Ameoba
AMEOBA: Ami Io, Bă, stai liniștit! I”m yo” Bro, be quiet! (like micro B)
Paramecium: Am meci egal, adică par, stau liniștit că păru-i gena cu cartea vieții la purtător. = I have par match, Paris Match, the apple of Paris, of Paradis, of pear 2. Es para mi! (same chemistry, you see)
-- Espera mon ami. Espera. What are you doing, eating me?
AMEOBA: To me zero va, nothing goes well, I always loose my sweet scoundrell... Am Iowa and you as wel... Am eu ova? De la el? Al naibii șmecher paralel! A meow e Eva, nu-i la fel, feriți-vă copii de el... Dai, Va, n-o fi chiar miel. Tu baba lui el babele lăsa că își xxxking imagina că arătau toate la fel.
Paramecium: Pharmaciu eu la el, fermecam fără model, doar cu o pastilă veche, cam electriciu de fel (și Patriciu e cu el). Scaricam după ureche. Meciu-maciu, piciu= 2 pi sau cam așa ceva, Nobell.
AMEOBA: Stay put, dac afurisit, rasa anatra model stas e anastase-n el, cu cîrlige fel de fel. Vrei să te ia de nas?
Paramecium: Bunuel. Sau fără el, tot atît la cocopel. 2-2, 4-4, tot la zero se reduce, limba asta chiar că-i dulce și te duce cu bărcuța fix spre Alunel. O să fac un dotărel că-i dotat deja din fire el cu el.
AMEOBA: Nu știam că ai vorbire tip cercel. Tre să fac un dam ca lumea altfel nu se prinde-n el. Dă-mi să-ți dau și eu o pară, jughinirea asta totuși poa să fie milenară dacă nu ne opintim s-o dăm în bară puțin. Pep si facem ușurel, hai la mama să te joace, vino-vino și-a venit.... Amoventa mistuit,
Parameciul: Ce spui dragă? Credeai că m-ai păcălit? Uite popa nu e popa, cam așa am revenit. Tu credeai că rîzi la alții dar de mine te-ai izbit. Me too, darling, light the match cos I”m sticky. Bă! Ram-aci! Că te-a luat dracu” pă lac! Vodoo-Vodoo o să fac!
AMOEBA: Am o Eva. Este clar acuma că-s de tip uman, Man co Capac fiindcă am un Dam, un baraj adică un concurs dădeam. Tu Chilam Balam, kilul ambalam, greutatea ție exactă știam, la rece (la chilly) și piper puneam, chit că tremuram (bailam) să fac tocăniță. Ciulama aveam.
I scrambled with her
I”m eclipsed with her, black ink flowing through my heart, no one knew about us. We were holding a thread from one to the other trembling to hang on the laundry atop to catch the blowing wind, a trouser, a flower apron, a night thrown over the Ecuador line, half hers and a half mine, throwing stars in the bedroom dream that reflects our carnivorous fire. I was dying with the boots in the wall, I was prescribed to be an avid footballer lonely and rigid, my shirt was floating in a vacuum, the purple-pale tie followed her, and I, a kind of blue look, sank into my pajamas to remain a little more with her cos she invents green patterns directly on my brain.
- Are you asleep?
- But how could I sleep, my good girlfriend? I just made wrinkles towards you as let me sleep better to dream of someone else. I do not want coffee and no handmade things by you, stop working on that woolless waistcoat, synthetic it!
- Synthetic hell! I've been working for a week, and I still feel like a curtain with poppies quickly sewn by my mother to look like a bloody field, over which you, a bad man, threw a few pearls and left. I hope my Great Plurigemino did not intimidate you because this shower at bedtime is kind of weird.
- I'm perfectly timed out of sin. I only have a chair with her in the living room to type on lonely beside a pepper coke , I often lose myself unfolded in busy mood with all my sedentary force in a swing by, square feeling of a pie. And, by the way, tidy a little bit this romance-space once in a while!
She promised me she”s broken-hearted
That she was leaving me on the road to make by myself a pancake on the asphalt: she was firing it. She did not even ask, she exploded my second and I remained to see how the hell is she moving away by dragging her yellow velocity with trees in front of me?
- Oh, don”t be scared. It's a little stop to get something. What's coming out of the cat is something else. I knew you were kidding, but when you went to her we picked you up to potic, to little-nothing, to something.
- Have you fried a bite and come with her to eat it for Christmas? She's coming to me with her, do you understand something?
- Oh, no, you're not chimeric. It's a good thing! He loves you through spaghetti, but her husband does not want to, she's at the pole with Yetti at the coffee. The opposite, it is.
- Is not there something else? That I'm bored in the law quarrel I see all-somewhere, I also look at the fact that it's just not going to be a great deal of criticism to talk to her. Vax with her and without her. And to make appendix from you, it will drag!
- Bring it, let it haphazardly staring at the star to the torture at Cordova. Like a kind of dick.
- Do not you tell me I'm late for somewhere? A matter of danger without me is happening? Well, whoever I'm expecting is waiting for her !!!
- You got rid of the locomotive, but you take a broken wagon, unloaded in a slum ditch ... the homeland ... green panther ... Bot-a-Bot with my ice ...
Bo-Magen
In this life she was about 50 years old, and in her CV, that is to say, in the Eternal Book, she had three and a half lives, one sated with sugar stars marbled on the black cake she would have stamped someone”s full face to look more active and full of grace. She received the refugees with an ice cube face (she wanted them to leave their luggage in the hallway) and in order to arrive to her party you were forced to go through a glimpse of pretty bitter ideas. If you've ever seen violet blobs on hilarious camels then you have an idea of her terrible love. She had a stuffed Zen in bed with her, something that did not blow in front of her, in fact you were all over surrounded by slogans.
- The wolf party? I'm a good guy, but my dear ones are bad. Sometimes I was serenely broke and I fell on the sparks, a game of fires trying to ignite me.
- Capracotta crawling cracked coarse individual? I forgot all my childhood games, but I mummified two kids to remember them like autumn things, Darie, Iurie, what we've been through my boy! Those who suffer from down-going understand accurately and acutely. I mean, Do you think I would be Cinderella and take you to the urn by tray? ... Nocturnal lie!
- Drag my dead body through the flowers, do not let me like this! Make a colorful path with my big heart through this flying colors before somebody else will mow! Wolf was in love.
- Flack away from me again if possible. I repeat myself cos I lack of some other eclipsing male to drink a coffee with a curly sucker that wants also baclava ...
- Confirmed.
Just a Fox în my Reality (bilinguă) = Doar o Vulpe în Singurătatea Mea
Dusting with a lovely tail the good old son of Abigail, who was sleeping in his beauty Tall and Male = Desprăfuind cu coada drăgăstoasă coada lui tale quale pe fiul mare al Gîștii care dormea în propria lui frumusețe Înalt și Șui.
It”s like a discovery channel in a cave with holly appareil= e ca descoperirea chanelului întro peșteră cu apa-riții sfinte.
Seeing the whole of Him is underestimating everything else.= Să-l văd pe el aș subestima restul universului
even the minimum need keeps me dreaming about him and him alone about me, I hope.= și minimul nud nu am nici cea mai mică dorință înafară de el a-l visa și el pe mine sper.
If not don”t force me to make a cleaning lot out of you= să nu ajung să iau măsuri dramatice fără să-l consult
I very very mean this, scoundrell you all!= chiar vorbesc serios, nu la pereții tăi!
(apart: I hope I will be able to happy you, too...)= ( aparte: sper să te pot feerici și eu la fel...)
It”s happening like a regular weeping session I will be your only obsession and that”s it!= nu are decît o singură obsesie și anume calculatorul, IT-ul în general, obiectul fatal.
Don”t fuchsia with me like in a gorgeous sun rize or sun set, dont deserve IT, I”m just starving for your witt= nu mai arunca rozuri pe mine, sunt treaz sau visez, nu te merry T, vreau doar pomană de grîu de la tine, damm it!
Sau ne-am înțelenit?
Sometimes he pulls the Cat out of me, gentle silk in my sobriety= cîteodată îmi scoate sufletul dar mi-l pune la loc cînd devin sobru: o fac doar pentru ea.
Only for more loving variety, variegated tiger he= în variantă tigrată nu e vrabie
I have no right to think about Him, nor wrong, I just furry dream him with old car horn, in my reality a glittering hole who let the roken roll come in= nu am nici un drept, el are mereu dreptate, sunt ca o furie bătrînă cu claxon care s-a apucat să joace rock cu rolele în rol.
(idiot maniac me and you)= impreună la bine și e foarte greu.
Împădurea cu alune= Anunaki în the forest
Era atît de independență cu mine, ne flaușam atît de des că nimeni nu înțelegea de ce ești așa avidă și plină doar de interes= je ne comprends pas rien de toi, avec moroi independent il faut faire le flauchant tres souvent, natură!
Fiindcă eram mai eclatant m-au luat drept stîlp de sinecură și un cucui le apărură= ton parure est brilliant, mon angelant je suis en ouvre cette instant de sinecure.
De ce galant m-am năpustit ca ghiocelul prin zăpezi, doar ca să mă repezi? Ești rea de gură, sau ce?= dans le nivalis ambulant, perdonne moi locură de toi făcui instant, o quoi?
Am înnebunit de-atîta ură, genocid hilar ce ești, nici un critic n-o să te ia în seamă, doar ți-am spus= Rien critique! Je petit click, perdonne moi une autre fois-gras, non moi.
Și-acum, cînd lumea te privește dar nu te bagă-n seamă, de ce nu spui pe latinește ce dracu asta-nseamnă??= En trioumphant tu vais, en force, rien va plus în voce tien c”est noce de cucu!
Ei vor a dezlipi tăcerea de tine dar n-au cu-cu ce. Și ia-o mai ușor, vezi că traducerea a luat-o înainte...= Oui, mon president, je suis cuminte, mais tu ne tien toi ton jurăminte. Avant la lettre, ca veut dire devant la table de fournir retoucher, remember?
Ce naiba, ai inversat poezia? Să te ia dracu că nu mai fac nici un retuș, lăsați în pace geografia să nu rămîneți fără Bush, ca Ciocîrlia care cîntă-n plop acuș paranghelia la urcuș... Măcar un aleluia.
Devant toi?
Îi devansează pe toți, nu numai pe mine. O vulpe-n coteț la galine s-ar arăta n-am mai scăpa așa. Ți-e bine?
Why do people go to parties? (poem from the volume Alt Volume)
To allow Buñuel to catch them and keep them there until they start wondering if Kafka was by all gods right with his king gate and everything else. And they can not even escape by thinking of this. My dear, do you want another cookie or I'll put it in your mussle by forcing you a lot? You're ruffled all over, but I can still bear you. It was a flicker of broken souls, eyes falling into ignorance, in the glass, they were pretending that they do not have any electronic equipment and I think that's what kept them there, the hope for someone to invent them.
- You're making the wrong way through helplessness and plotting to go out and I can not run anymore. There are aerial stairwells for the good spectrums towards the attic and you make me sit down with the stupid pop game at the anode? Be careful cos I might have an expulsion to the people, gordy crowd.
- Corod-corod. In corrosion with you ! I have swimming acid all over even if I don`t know how to swimm it all and I am, I swear to you, Imoculot! Slowly, one to the other, hold your mouth to run open, maybe you create some currents so I can fly!
- Or you can make circumference at the cutter to prove you`re full of will like a ruminant mammal. And we will make for you a corridor around the walking table, round type.
The silence was profound. They sank quickly into it and not much hopes anymore hleft to arive soon at the bottom. They were drowning, that size they had not known yet, so elevated in their work that they were verticalizing from dawn to be sure they would not fall down so fast.
- I am so condemned! I'll stand here like a furry hunter. I tell you that any director actually has the gentle idea that the Good will be triumphant in the end. In case of wrath, I`ll ask the author to dinamitate the book, like a kid animated cartoon!
Avec me sabots= Mă joc cu sabotorii= Vot, tată (bot ezo)
motto: Un artist a făcut genocid. Întrebat de judecători de ce a răspuns senin: Picasso a tras cu pistolul cînd a vîndut primul tablou. Eu n-am vîndut nimic... Inca.
mot-tou: An artist did it again. When they asked he was in the clouds: I am not Picasso,
dont ask me why, I dont remember any hi!
Asta își mînca orezu la Horezu, îmi promise Împăiatu că îi dă doar fluieratu și Hora de la Urîțica, avea niște viori așa de lungi, ca niște sicrie, mă așteptam să văd în fiecare cîte-o poezie violetizată.= Lets visit Horezu, Cap Ezo, The King waits there for us with his long long violins to sing.
Aveam apucături de mînă prin magazine cînd se putea, cînd nu se parfuma și ea uneori ca vînzătoarea oarbă de flori care nu îl vedea dar știa cu certitudine, după textură, după ureche, după aerul pe care-l respira de la el, ușor sulfură.= Ocean 11 harasho her when she is able, too. Other wise she was also a florist under a vibrant texture, piece of cake she put for him, not sulfur.
Ai curaj să mă contrazici aici, în pădure? Ți-am strecurat sufletul prin zeci de patrafire și n-am găsit nimic în el care să facă nemurire cu model. = Go to church! Or leave me alone!
În loc de broșă porți cameleon? = Did you publish that brochure, Yetti?
Și-n plus, cuvîntul Zealot de ce se profila ușor prin perdeluța de amor ce ne înfășura numai că timpul o scurta sfășietor.= Depeche-toi! Allellei, vite, vite, a tiglele pe noi! They say : ”lets run” in precipite, some kind of Latin very fast, like fastening but with no feast, correct it, Zealot!
Zea Mays vrei să zici, la mine nu vii fără Păpușoi că doar și Creangă i-a vrăjit și a avut parte de Joy în infinit.= Maya and Rama are so far together in the calendar and Joe this time gave permit.
Iasca omenească= human lefts
Ei trec prin faze de adorare supraomenească, ouăle cu mic cu mare stăteau la ovalizare și prin coaja lor subțire simt căldura cea de mumă strămoșească= Your mother is Beauty, dont bother to denay I think she is from ray or something somehow sky.
Are pe dînsa cîțiva ciulini da-ntre găini vom trece cu vederea, ținînd cont că averea și-o ține la pufoaică ca o leoaică în toată firea! (hrrr)= Old Hasdruball has such a farm that Mc Douglas feels the harm, so bad.
Mc Douglas se simte cam rău, mai pe directe, mai pe gură, s-a întîmplat șuierătură pe la Inău = I know, I know, shut up din gură sus, Nobody is kinda Big Shura.
E cît o șură-ntr-adevăr, de-ar fi Șureanu tras de păr și tot n-ar arăta mai multă adorare. Curge gîndul frățioare la un robinet uitat întrun lac de-acumulare fără să afecteze nici un peisaj de sticlă de pe oglinda visătoare care va să zică... = I dont see such a sexy thing in my hole life is ....
Asta e-n funcție de nervii Lui, a pus-o-n cui și-i dă și cu aghiazmă la cucui să credem noi că e lovită și ea nu-i.= She”s OK hope, we dont know, some saint water in a rusty nail you!
Polițiștii cînd vroiau să aresteze pe cineva începeau direct să rîdă că-și aminteau de ea, așa era de crudă mai ales Vinerea (hrrr) = Police is at her finger like a maze in miniature, maybe Dedal is guilty somewhat....
Cuvîntul Zealot apare din nou trist l-înmormîntare, avea abcese la ficat, păcat că nu mai avem stupoare la așa ceva, calupu-ntregoi s-a consumat. = He is not anymore among sheeps like a wolf goes deep, and even deeper!
Fiecare să rîdă în raport de faptele pe care le-a făcut vrînd-nevrînd: Forța Lirică, ignorată, se repede la vulpoi, vulpoiul bagă un evanghelist în priză, priza are mușuroi (era legată de pămînt...) un dead ai și un dead crapă (nimic nu se pierde) = One dad here, One dad there, nothing to loose, this lirical beach is so confuse, a fox will loose the goose in use.
Jomon- Jomon apare El pe cap cu sfîntul porumbel care nu mai cucuriga, iubirea e ceva siniliu colorată pe ea, pe toată. = Piano-piano! We have blue, we have a lotta”, we have a șit down in the grotta.
Desfigurare de idei (aparte: în toată cariera ei n-a fost în stare... e o aia, fără strigătoare a atins acele coarde la tremurătoare...) Acceptase să facă teatru cu ea tip Așchiuță, de-o viață-ntreagă aștepta o teleguță cu cai albaștri la dovleac făcea complementare că-i sus și mare brînză: oricum totul e în mîinile lui, în circuit închis... = This dream is blue and orange as any other complementary things, dont bother........................................................................
Gîsca voi prin noroi o trăgeați cu Țurloi și mințeați de șiroi apele ați? = Comment t”appelles-, tu, Peltea? Hurry Boy! Hor -Ra Noy! Don”t be silent în păpușoi it is but a little toy. C”est belle ta vie în Padua? Mantua? Gargantua ne bougez pas?
De ce tre să existe-ntotdeauna un Romeo care-ntoarce pe dos o Julietă, o jachetă, sau un raglan? Poate șosetă de huligan lăsată-n ploaie să genereze singurătate pentru Tarzan. = Tarzan is alone for the first time is like a Romeo in the rain (in Spain mainly?) without a gilet.
Ce să fac, anticipez Babilonia, proces mundan prin care totul se topește și se încheagă iar în plan. Era păcat ca noi cu toții să nu ne prindem de-un jneapan.= They say there is a deceiver among them who can read and write, is it?
Enghlish version of the poem Droping şi Dropia:
Drop and Droping is Inanna and Dumuzi - in analogy, God is like a music In a museum, our reliefs shine in the votive image. Future lovers have built a stack of piles and they climbed on it on the funeral flowers dry road. It sounds like beehive In combination with ants, the demons roared in the calendar: such a sin! Do not think that you have this chance for me and think Will St. Elias cover you with an automatic gesture? Pirate Reflex In the scratched mirror, the green eye shook like a videogram in a crystal clock. He has a look, he has a nod, he has a disturbing mind commenting something on her to answer her in the cloud? If not ashamed you all. Cried with literary tears on the papers in the bedroom, others you put with their feet up on the wall, you help yourself with toothpicks, you have no romantic words to put her in her place? Well, all I want is circumstances, that`s why my verse is colorless, to fit everywhere, ahoy and whoy? That's it in any decor fit, do not worry, not blind, you do not need a famous elevator to look good, saw a German engine building another German one like him?? It would be a vaulted fire in a low cow field went into the clay. They say he has Aghiuta, something in a circulatory system. I washed a toothbrush, and the bottle mechanism left me out of sight is a supervisor, I'm sorry that on such a long corridor I had no pop-up ticket now, on a rug like a sober model throw dictator. - Do you have a stumbling brother to the Emperor? Spontaneity like these stay on TV, do not let them explode to kill me. See you in the news, I wanted to sleep a bit. More and more nonsense like the donut in Obor, a Romanian market in Bucharest.
A NOvellow (Turkish googla translation):
Tüm gözyaşları kırık çekiçle çalındı. Kalpler Cronos'un yasasıydı. İstediğim herşeyi biliyordu. Parktan hoşlanmak kalbimde bir tabak olurdu. Zorundasın zayıflamak benim sevgili sonucum. Böyle bir zorunlulukta Çok acil bir şekilde geldik, herhangi bir materyalden sakınmıyoruz, mutlu finallerle birlikte olacak. Hikaye Aşk sonunda bükülmüş arkadan, infüzyonları çeker, yere düşer, bir bardak su Geri dönüş olarak çukurlarda faydalı, kendi kendini imha olur mavi-sütlü yüzey, jips ile tamamen kapalı kapı, Birisi arkada bir bacak alır. Doktorlar merak ediyor mu dantel ile bu mukus üzerine koymak için kullanabilirsiniz onun abanoz. - Sen çok zavallı bir çocuksun. Hastaneyi üst katta pembe duvarlarla çalıştırın Kaideler, diş ipi desenleriyle iç içe geçenlerdir. Ortada, hasta çok kaygan bir şekilde geri döndü. Sudaki üzüntü artıya dalardı sonsuza dek bir şehvet gülüyorsun. Bu sapık ya da kafanın içinde, ya da bir sürü işsizden bıktın Benim arazimde mi? Fısıltılardan geçen bir kişi bir mendille nehrin içinden akıyor Bu notadan mikozumu nefesimle üflemek istiyorum yüzün çok hafif iç çektiğini bulamadığında direkt tuberosis. - Sen şaşkınsın, sapma şeytan! Osmosis'i sarayda seninle yapacağım! Eğlence var mı? Keçi, lahana, kurt, hepiniz yediniz Bağlanmak için obez olmak normaldir!
Și retradusă în românește prin punct de vedere turcesc cum s-ar spune (teoretic aș putea să scriu volume întregi cu o singură poezie)
A Novellow
Toate lacrimile au fost furate de un ciocan rupt. Inimile erau legea lui Cronos. Știa tot ce-mi doream. Bucurați-vă de parc-ar fi o placă în inima mea. Aveți rezultatul meu iubit de a pierde in greutate. Într-o astfel de necesitate am ajuns foarte urgent, nu evităm niciun fel de material, fericit va fi cu finala. Povestea Dragostea este în cele din urmă îndoită din spate, infuzii atrage, cade la pământ un pahar de apă. Util în gropi ca întoarcere, devine auto-distrugere suprafata albastru-lustruita, usa complet inchisa cu gips, Cineva ia un picior în spate. Doctorii se întreabă Cu dantelă îl puteți folosi pentru a pune mucusul în abanosul său? - Ești un copil foarte sărac. Pornește spitalul la etaj cu pereți roz Piedestalii se împletesc cu modele de atașare. În mijloc, pacientul s-a întors foarte alunecos. Tristețea în apă se înmoaie în plus Râzuiți o poftă pentru totdeauna. Ești bolnav de acest pervers sau de cap sau de mulți șomeri. Pe pământul meu? O persoană care trece prin șoapte curge prin râu cu o batistă cu tot. Vreau să-mi arunc mitul cu această suflare. Tuberoza directă: - Ești confuz, diavol! O să fac Osmosis cu tine în palat! Te distrezi? Capră, varză, lup, tot ce mâncați Este normal să fii obez să te conectezi!
إنه ينظر إنها تحدق في وجهي مع البريق في الضوء الخامل ، بقية الشعر معلقة من السقف وتؤمِّنك بالمتوفى ، السهل ، المصاصات. اعتقد أنك كنت نائما وفي مياهك الصفراء كنت تبحث عن الزائر العظيم. J "أعشق الموت على كل الحرير المغري. الشمع جامدة الذي يحمله في الدمشقي الأبيض ليس للقيام برحلة واحدة. من تلقاء أنفسهم. كما لو كان لديهم رائحة أنهم لا يريدون مشاركتها ، و التي تم التعبير عنها فقط من خلال البكاء على الجانب الآخر ، تلك المسامير لم يغلقوا أبدا ، لم يسمحوا لي بالنوم. كان العالم يبشر وتم توصيلها بأرجوحة فارغة. مرة أخرى كريستيان ديهور احتضان عشيقة لهم مع اللؤلؤ الأزرق للمتحدث. والكلمات كانت لنا تزهر من كلماتهم ، أردنا تقليد كل منهم الارستقراطية ، للتدخين من الروح ، والنار المشتعلة ، لا شيء تحت تلك البلوزة رقيقة ، وقال انه لا يعتقد. - أنت غبي ... نعم ، أنا مجنونة مثل أرماديلو خشنة ، سيُطفأ هنا و أنا لتشعر بها في حقل الأجداد ، بالدوار الأرجواني ، الذي كانت فيه جميع معنوياتك يصل. يعلن البيدق عن الدولارات ، ينيرها ، ويطلقها بشكل هائل لإحضار الطاووس إلى هامس هامس. أنت لا تموت. أنت تمضي قدما على الجسر ، لا أحد يتخيل ما لديك ، لماذا تناسب كل ساق مع هذا الاستخدام غير المجدي لرأس الشخص الآخر ، سوف تذهب إلى ذراعيه ، الحجاب المعطر من تزلف.
'iinah yanzur 'iinaha tuhadiq fi wajhiin mae albariq fi aldaw' alkhamil , baqiat alshier muealaqat min alsaqf wtwmink bialmutawafaa , alsahl , almusasat. 'aetaqid 'anak kunt nayimaan wafi miahik alsufara' kunt tabhath ean alzzayir aleazim. J "aeashaq almawt ealaa kl alharir almaghri. alshame jamida aladhi yuhmiluh fi aldamashqii al'abyad lays lilqiam birihlat wahidatin. min tilqa' 'anfusihim. kama law kan ladayhim rayihat 'anahum la yuridun musharakatiha , w alty tama altaebir eanha faqat min khilal albika' ealaa aljanib alakhar , tilk almasamir lm yaghliquu 'abadaan , lm yasmahuu li bialnuwma. kan alealam yubashir watama tawsiluha bi'arjuhat fargha. maratan 'ukhraa kristayan dyhur aihtidan eashiqat lahum mae alluwlu al'azraq lilmutahadith. walkalimat kanat lana tazahar min kalamatahim , 'aradna taqlid kl minhum alairsitiqiratiat , liltadkhiyn min alruwh , walnaar almushtaeilat , la shay' taht tilk albuluza raqiqat , waqal 'anah la yuetaqad. - 'ant ghabiun ... nem , 'ana majnunat mithl 'armadilu khashnatan , syutfa huna w 'ana litasheur biha fi haql al'ajdad , bialdiwar al'arjuanii , aldhy kanat fih jmye maenawiatik yasl. yuelin albydq ean alduwlarat , yuniruha , wayutaliquha bishakl hayil li'iihdar altaawus 'iilaa hamis hamisa. 'ant la tamuta. 'ant tamdi qadamaan ealaa aljisr , la 'ahad yatakhayal ma ladayk , limadha tanasab kl saq mae hdha alaistikhdam ghyr almajdi liras alshakhs alakhar , sawf tadhhab 'iilaa dhiraeayh , alhijab almuetar min tazalf.
إغراء الخير وقفت الإغراء للخير عليك ولم تذوب. ربما كنت أكثر برودة انها من. أو ، من يدري ، ما يمكن عكسه بشكل مثالي ولم تعرف. حسنا ، إذا كان يستطيع معرفة من الذي ستقتل. لا تفعل ذلك رنين على الهاتف: في بعض الأحيان تمنحك الحياة الاتصال الداخلي أو الإنترفيرون أو inter الإدمان. منذ أن عرفت أني مرتعبة من المنافسة ، ألقيناها الجميع في السلة: حيث حدث أن يكون له سلف واحد؟ عندما رفض الاختلاف الذي انتهيت عمليا ، كل دوران النساء غير مجدية محبوب مع البطن المسطح. لقد بدأت للتو الغموض وآمنت أنا انتهيت أنا لا أعرف من يجعلك تشعر ، انها مثل اللعنة اللعنة. أولئك الذين لا يتلقون العلاوة يتم قذفهم من السرير ، الذي أعطاك لقد خدعك الرسامة صعودا وهبوطا. كنت محظوظا تم استعماره ، أو آخر تأكل الحصة المتحضرة. على أي حال ، في الحلويات ، سينتهي الإقلاع ما الذي يجب عمله. لا أحد يمسك بهذا القطار ، إنه مسرّع جداً ، أي بدلا من وقت متأخر غادر قبل الموعد النهائي ولم يعد له. من الدجاج ساحر ومكمم مع فراخ متنقلة. - الصبي لم يصل بعد ، ولكن هناك حجاب على الطريق ونرحب به البدو في الحلبة ، العديد من المواد مع الفشار تورم كما لو كان في انتظار بتلة مع ازدهار دواسة اللون الأزرق والوردي. - أراك من خلال الصومعة ، وتبحث عن شيء؟ أو كنت تريد أن تجف من المطر اللفظية؟ أعتقد أن الجرف المغطى بالكامل ستغطيه جرة ، زجاج عيد الميلاد أريدك أن ترى هدايا كبيرة ، فريزيا ، طفح الكرنفال ، الملصقات المقنعة التي يخبرك عنها ديكى لدينا من أعلى شفتيك لسنوات عديدة ، لا تجعل الحب لاللعنة إذا لم يكن لديك ما يكفي من المال. عندما تنزلق فتات الجبن على الطاولة ، تستقر ، فهي مهووسة بالصورة الظلية ولكن لا يزال لديه بصيص من الأمل. يريد حماقة. لا يعني أن العالم ليس كذلك يحب كلوج ، أنه لا يحب أن يضع أحمر الشفاه أو أنه ليس لديه طوق الفراء. في بالإضافة إلى أنه يقوم بعمل ولديه فرقعة في حنجرته تقول: مرح.
'iighra' alkhayr waqafat al'iighra' lilkhayr ealayk walam tadhubu. rubama kunt 'akthar buruda 'iinaha min. 'aw , min yadri , ma yumkin eaksuh bishakl mthali walam taeraf. hasananaan , 'iidha kan yastatie maerifatan man aldhy sataqtal. la tafeal dhlk runin ealaa alhatif: fi bed al'ahyan tamnahik alhayat alaitisal alddakhilia 'aw al'iintirfirun 'aw inter al'iidman. mundh 'an earafat 'aniy murtaeibatan min almunafasat , 'alqaynaha aljamie fi alsalat: hayth hadath 'an yakun lah salaf wahd? eindama rafad alaikhtilaf aldhy aintahayat eamaliaan , kl dwran alnisa' ghyr majdia mahbub mae albatn almusth. laqad bada'at lltw alghumud wamanat 'ana antahayt 'ana la 'aerif min yajealuk tasheur , 'anaha mithl allaenat allaenati. 'uwlayik aldhyn la yatalaqawn alealawat ytmu qadhfuhum min alsarir , aldhy 'aetak laqad khadaeak alrisamat saeudana wahubuta. kunt mahzuzaan tama aistiemaruh , 'aw akhar takul alhisat almutahadiratu. ealaa 'ayi hal , fi alhalawiat , sayantahi al'iiqlae ma aldhy yjb eamalihi. la 'ahad yumsik bhdha alqitar , 'iinah msrre jdaan , 'aya badalaan min waqt muta'akhir ghadar qabl almaweid alnihayiyi walam yuead lih. min aldijaj sahir wamukmum mae farakh mutanaqilatin. - alsabiu lm yasil baed , walakun hunak hijab ealaa altariq wanurahib bih albadw fi alhalbat , aledyd min almawadi mae alfashar tuarim kama law kan fi aintizar batlat mae aizdihar dawasat allawn al'azraq walwardi. - 'arak min khilal alsawmieat , watabhath ean shy'? 'aw kunt turid 'an tajifa min almatar allafazia? 'aetaqid 'ana aljarf almaghtaa balkaml satughtih jirat , zujaj eid almilad 'uriduk 'an taraa hadayaan kabiratan , fariziaan , tafah alkrnfal , almulasaqat almuqnaeat alty yukhbiruk eanha dikaa ladayna mn aela shiftik lasanawat eadidat , laa tajeal alhabu liallaenat 'iidha lm yakun ladayk ma yakfi min almal. eindama tanzaliq fatat aljaban ealaa alttawilat , tastaqiru , fahi mahwusat bialsuwrat alziliya walakun la yazal ladayh basis min al'amal. yurid hamaqa. la yaeni 'ana alealam lays kdhlk yuhibu klwj , 'anah la yuhibu 'an yadae 'ahmar alshaffah 'aw 'anah lays ladayh tuaq alfra'. fi bial'iidafat 'iilaa 'anah yaqum bieamal waladayh fariqeat fi hanjaratih tqwl: marh.
Dona has been loved from the no-gay
Federal, Gaius, no woman can truthfully say this much:
--- For now Venus stands! A foul mind, not a sister! Lesbia insults me at all her time, she is always like Zmyrna, the pain of death is not so easy to bear.
-- I suffer so much for myself, can”t do it for youu too. Many brother-countries hostages say goodbye!
-- Are you a sold, or what ? What is he trying to say? People full of wishes, you are! Let us praise sincerely all our life.
Rare studio soul, I”ll make a promise to you: no criticism will arrive, no worshipers lair mouth will contradict you, no nothing. While I was defending myself, I could not at all ask for that kiss, too lazy he said, to Syria, the grandfather, his mother, all his family the same.
The light wave is gone, Hionian, but dont be tortured. Not yet. Like a white horse in the world after the flood, I die, but I love you the same.
-- You are so little, unfortunate brother. There are sad Dripping waves. Eat pop-corn, brother, bird hostages, goodbye!
-- The technique of pitch-mute sad is more than bitter, hellebore. Proporis Love! Any sweet-sweetener? (Inventive on the cross, what I have to do?)
Silent fab friend, do you believe me? The same time wild and untamed as you and full of life. O, Muses! Oh, I know so little about white light!
-- If comin! Your hoary old foul! I have no doubt some members are already wolves, and the rest of the remaining intestines are dogs. It”s our affair, isn”t IT? Which would be perpetuum.
This is sincerely yours: Cupido, from the heart. More precious than gold. She refers to you, my friend. Or better Sea-life with me?
-- The head you ask me! Your story is like a new video on an old trash-hold. Please, let”s be friends us.
Zmyrna and the incense
in bottles from a lion-shop. The soul stays in this entrance as clean as a pharmacy. Kilometers of literature wrapped around the bulb give us Absence. You have a wax seat to pomp-funeral from a Benevolent (the fact that the underground is in flames leaves you cool-engined, you will never have a shaking system again soon). Do not be afraid of the answer coming from Africa Flight on the Fashion Mortuary Passarelle parade a skirt has blushed with red-smoked deflation on an anthracite pattern object. When someone speaks "ART", he choke himself head-by- head to a fool who still wants from Romart an object rejuvenated by performance with attacks on romance, a dusty exhibition where the dust, satisfied, covers the complete evil done by the Great Beloved! He has to procrastinate himself down under the chair, giving us the jiggle look he has had all year-last and which makes him happy. That's my guerrilla, with Morona he had made granite plans, but he did not have the ability to sculpt them, so she monopolized him. Avant-la-Lettre awoke without any training, though he was sleepy, he understood that we talk about a memorial of bitterness and incense. He felt elevated and directed three balls of palm-a-malachite. He was weakened a little bit ugly but still with a rubbery nose of a pig that was badly pressed by the mummy when he had a little witt. As for the other, Nătînga, again in the eye, wondered not to see the new boyfriend's volcano. A devil and a devil are dizzy: what if this is the pharmacy we're looking for in iinfinite? Or do we do it again? Hope her red nose nothing happened to it???!
Iradiating Balls
Super-Pig is under stars celebrating his own scars.
Is ball-shopping on my list or I”m really Daltonist?
Global losses on my plate show I wasnt so inflate.
But, who knows? I might be great without loosing
all my faith. Mandoncello is for green like cello to violin.
Barbat-lute in early time Pipa-Biwa on the line. Longer
body, Valentine, fingerboarding is my prime.
-- Bouzouki? Moy leading eye. The pandura has the hay.
What the world is happy-pie?
-- Bas relief with extra sky. Just like Hura in Hurray!
Naked lines with altern straw, Ingushetia in aw!
Helping language, please, dont go! Galgaj Moxk, Gallic Mexic
Moscva bela, bible-talking love youso (soiuz)! Palpay rusky
haracso, double-ax on ice- too slow.
Popol-vuski zmirnîi sto.
HEARTS
She sends black hearts from her thoughts: he had chosen a white woman, unhappily, with the pale pink smile that no one solemnly touched. Electro-exchange with her on Friday, electrolux motions so they linked each sin with a more inspiring source, for example they stood in the sun with all the morale high to contemplate. Riding on the fetish has been said in other poetry of mine, so keep quiet, lie down with her. People with a transparent head through which a landscape was rolling slowly on the road grain, small skidding through the White Balta, swearing soft words with the tiger's kitty fur drifting away. Bison we will not protect him with any fence, my dear. He strolled the cup of coffee to his own milk, wondering the world about it. Do we have any calculations, or do we just play as shit, my dear? I keep my soul on the stick like sweet wool to untie it. You set us up in a shock on our thread and now in a hilly salty we will sing a song from each other on Sunday and we will teach them. Why do you throw out the kindness of black hearts he did not know. She took in those cocky spaces those chopped things that could not breathe except a light autumn wind with thin leaves, under which the autumn snoring, promises we had all we had, maybe we would make a path not to climb with this ax this year to cut off trees and nothing
translation for the poem Se Vîntura from the volume Mă păcălea în Trinidad = She was making a full of me in Trinidad:
It was winding
It was winding through poetry: a kind of blue derailing and slipping through dreams of amnesia without anesthesia. There was something hard to be astonished at in his Hollow, plus holding a saint in a bird cage for, so to say, grow old, like feeding him directly from his soul as if he had been puffing him up with pink air-like advertisements to the piglet ghost. He had a heart wrapped in seven feet of fine rainbow, and it still hurt for her. When someone told him he was cute, he broke from the conversation with his back skinned, and he felt hurry like the fugitive. The blond hair lightened him, making him think more of her as if someone had followed him: surely no one was watching him. What good? If there had it grown somewhere poetry he would have flipped through it like a madman, but on all the surface of the city was just the shade of the scrub barely out of the smoke? I did not understand what I meant. I almost care about him, I see him running, I give him run from my own running (time is the law of periodicity), although he does not care. I did not want to fall in love with him, but he pushed me into heresy, in the fence with the emaciation, and I think I broke a weeping cry.
- Do not get leukemia now because this is not Love Story and wont be too soon. You have to work in my thought, forget about the whispers, stand on foot, and hell will help you. Nobody gives a dime about Agony today, and even more money. A site forgotten and overwhelmed to extinguish his pride. Why Jesus did you love us? Was it something special here that has turned you away from infinity and made you to put aside the fact that we crucified you? Your emerald today is still spreading flames to us like a mouthpiece called the moroi, and all the sadness-teachings are turning upside down, the hair of the whirlwind as a burning.
Figurine Deleted (http://www.versuri.club/romana-versuri-lyrics/gabriel-dorobantu-iertarile-versuri-lyrics)
The motorcycle was irradiating with him, leaving behind smoky ex-rays of circumstantial walking-bys, snatching the colors from the flower shop, and lifting them into a rainbowery without any future. All the balconies were part of his visual system regarding that reality with such a fabulous motor! A woman with all the souls lit in a dreamlike electric scheme collects the flowers without color left behind him. With brown eyes she makes glowing shades, like a night catchy woman, like a movie for the whole family with long cinnamon scenes. The landscapes pass through her without making any harm, the roads were very distant as if the city had been sunk and the motorcycle would have stopped somewhere in solitude complicating the Sunday with all sorts of gestures thrown out from the wandering body of a man.
-- You got drunk? Have you experienced figurative instability by talking to no one? Are you filling your heart-beat-beating on two wheels hanging? Do not stand here without voice, your sadness with dead leaves is like a painting that was recently painted by one without a perspective and a bad- brusher all the time. Having a few donkeys-power made you feel like a steam engine?? What kind of weeping cloth are you?...
--Instead of helping you contemplate while you see me weeping. Imagination turns me around to the ground. You were so indifferent that you made me jump many times in a row. You are implicitly responsible, you play in the street hopscotching so don`t be surprised by anything except me. And, yes, I know you want to un-together me as if I were a furibundo uncontrolled thing and you will get from me only my dust in the windy afternoon.
Poetry - Babylonie (from the volume Mă păcălea în Trinidat= making a lot of fulls out of me, one, all aroun Trinidat and Toba-go!)
The most spiral brand with side-sparkling names and formats say he has a nocturnal life in the wonderful novel started easily never finished after much torture of woman and man somewhere in the square attic with his diurnal colleagues towards a beer bent directly on the stripe as if someone would have leaned him on a long haul to vomit. He was nose-liquidizing in a phone call about the supposed death of the Lord with his microphone in her throat, full of unclear whispers: does the Lord want coffee or just milk? Noica yes, he knew something, but Cocolino was surpassing him angrily on the floor, multiplying himself as Santa, multiplying in his mind the thought of him being inaugurated and praises praised by the whispering parishioners...
- It”s suka bra, I just told you, Sunrise and Sunset too with you supposing you were right, but you received only deception and abuse. Smart-obtuse-loose. This diving platform led the church to pour its iconography directly to the Black Sea at Sulina. Do not say that Bubulina has no price...
- Dead-Hand among us, bra, ska, whatever, he's sharing purple candy stuff and throwing it to us in the garbage, did you know that Eros was Cupid and they were self-brothers? Another Earth just like this faraway in the Cosmos exists, the Earth zero as you would say, that in time it sinks through the golden red falling like a meteor. We'll arive to the story when the elephant will fly ... off the decor!
Balgosloveşte! (speaks the old bleak)
Vlaho-Slovenia is like a vision with black people in a white field a way to write directly with them in Old Goths, which burns icicles around without sparks. A pale holly opens the charcoals on the face of the moon and sees with them the blind passage, makes them feel deadly disfigured on ideas, blown worlds in which Blacci dream about their deep world: as if a hand walks among them to untie the ropes and let them out remembering the Jews. All that they had done with pure hatred had now risen back through them, a viking with nocturnal straps on her white forehead. The wait, round, slippery in full swing of the promised promise, stand and listen to her soul. He lifted the veil from the narcissus way illuminated by the orome, full of visions, leaning forward in front of the bride drawn by them. Tired in the trance, pulled side by side, pulled by the old soul to give more color to cloudless skies, lost ships on the Calm Sea with her dear she does not know the man on the street steps in the snow making his gloomy body to advance the unmarried man called to arms by a stumbling block.
- We'll make our mouth talk for you're lying to me that you're making inventions that you have broken plan claims We'll throw you in the white puddle when a guerrilla rises up, hate the rich who bruises on the stairway taken from the enemy to sharpen with everything I like that morassan tongue. He's so stupid, he's making me a sour milk with noodles. I did not know that she was repenting, much more like a pancake without syrup in a cold morning forgotten on her table.
All his sensations
are inside her, mixed, the wind was scattering the flora and fauna on him, as if she had something to do with his parallel plan, blowing him through a brothel with broken stained glass. I have a bare feet sticky level, to wake up in her dream is useless. Unless yes, you are an ox and you have a spangle shirt and the spangles watch the other girls, cut them out of the picture and stick them to the wall. Take you, too, I hope! Hope? No, Im lying in the sky, but on the ground I tell the truth, do not slip, you fools, with the carpet and bang the head against some lacquer furniture in which someone unknown makes an egg! (your green-stitch shirt ...)
- Do not afforest yourself with me anymore cos I have allergies to the bush with pigeons unknown to you! Just leave a ghost on the path to make a discrete green calling-light inside which I m waiting for you, what the hell, don`t you understand I`m here? A little lamp inside your heart keeps you warm, this poem, Lord, has any smart reader? Or does he aimlessly float over Monet's poppies with a fine-shadow like the hair on his chest? On the wounded words you put a soft wrap a very soft wrap of clear golden turns. When he takes off his image he remains as a black, slippery and sighing cube. To cause this pain to me, he draw your portrait with inside me, a wrinkle through my self-portrayal of spurs. Just show me how the soul turns around on a distorted axis and I`ll be yours.
He cuts me (poetry-receipt)
He cuts off my smiles with a glossy knife away, in something soft, in his belly, and I smile here with them, I slip down the valley over a lot of joy, a series of wounds connect me with my silly wife. Her thoughts-carriers were maybe tired, Poor Transparent Porters I just told you you have to work! I want a midnight rainbow with an INDISCREET-PINK filament and main figures hanging out publicly on the cross of the poet dreaming how I loved you from the very beginning and The Devil Himself to vote with his purple bloody ink down the white sheets in which is written: SS Unknown. I go to hell in dioceses with the Fugitive Lord on the poor clay of which he makes monstrous figurines and continues with more nice ballerinas tending to a sharp abstraction that pierces all the art at the most appropriate point: too many artists suffocated when they realized that life was widespread, through the demolished poetry a crow eats them, the cinnamon ruins have ancestral rosette made by an old glacier. With his clear glass teeth he beats a funeral Hymn with the sides inside the Basalt, he wants to weep, and he can not , walking with a broken dream in four thoughts throughout poor neighborhoods looking for an ant. On the wet street, he is guessing in the silver rising like the mercenary on holiday left for the last shop-ping. A guy like him confesses that he has made a first lift-ing applying the church-rule of ”be Charming” and when everyone looked at the fish he came out with expensive treasure. Who still lives a bit blatant but laughing , thinking the world is too busy to understand he is the main rogue villain, and he would still also the full moon to flung it on your carpet. Elephantine. Nacre. With a lila cloud or cloudless. Reflecting sparkles in all the glassware in your little lab.
37. ICONOCLASTIC ENEMA (translation of ICONOCLISMĂ from the volume TUMBA-YANNA, short stories)
An old man in reversed weeping was pulling back all the tears he had ever wept, resorbing his bitterness with hectic schemes to close back inside again all the pathetic mockery that had escaped from him high in the sky like electric toys that no one could control anymore, maybe only some inattentive archangel on the sluggish balcony inclined towards mankind. He padded the grotto with pillows to avoid echoing. There he prayed at the Faint-she-Thing:
- Come again under another name in the field of nettles with greenish creases to make glitter with me for a private Christmas. My coil center turns me over to you, I know I have no escape, do not send me Clementine because I”m in a dry diet up after you!
This was not a conventional prayer, he knew. He used the words just to get rid of them, tied up to the crazy thoughts he had in mind about her. He didn”t want to go anymore to the Caramel bar with carmelites in Izvoarele bus stop. Leaving aside the fact that there was a general betel chewing, and the tweezers were twisting on and on two-meter-badges in the style of a stripper. Something unbearable was happening inside him: to be rude or to appear as tender as he would, to put in stinging lights on the Hanukkah chandelier or to gallop his heart on his polish way, so insecure?
- A true samurai never suicides himself alone, friends know why, give him free hand and he will make a revolution in your mind, and from his naval experience (have mercy of the Psalter like Gospel, will yo?) you remain with a great deception. He leaned against the women with a stick to teach us Anatomy, but he missed a skull-cap in his long dusty pedantry. It was kind of a 100% believer: half of his vocabulary was made up of the word Hell, the other half of the word God, dangerously inclined towards the first, more god-like and having more ships, black and absurd: "I am a Parishioner but I couldn't convince myself if God invented the Hell to have Somebody to argue with like nice fighting to give him a sneak in his translator's spirit or to punish us that we did not dawn enough? " In vain you are full of running will in your locomotor system if you do not have steps forward or if you try to rush it on ice in a fast skating style with the snapping lightning pole you nose nose-to-nose will lose control.
38. Letter to my sister (published in 2013) from Tumba-Yanna, short stories
"Dear Monica, we're going to be famous, Gigi and I, we met here, in this very train a Frenchman, Bresson, who took a picture of us two. Gigi was sleeping but I was fully awake, just pretending to be asleep, I was in the blissful position of a tired actress who knows she's beautiful. I've changed a few words with Mr. Bresson, of course I did not tell him Gigi went through a shock, thanks God he slept all night, it's the first night he sleeps after the accident and he kept me close to him to make sure I wont leave him alone. I think he was acting like that because of the shock, he fell in love with me and Eugenia would figure it out so it would be very kind of you to prepare her for such and such, I do not want her to think I'm a bad girl alias beach girl and surfing crap. He does not talk about divorce yet but he told me he does not want to stay at home anymore and asked me to host him in our attic for at least a few months. What can I tell you, I do not think you know how love is. You are always floating in a dream who cuts out your ties to reality, the days and nights have an almost poisonous phosphorescence that emanates from his beloved face, you know you're in danger, but instead of running around you kneel with a smile close to his chest ... I know, I already hear your lamentations, I've always been unconscious, you say, Bebe will be on the platform at my arrival with a white lily bunch, I know dear sir, but at least here in this miraculous train let me be I-myself, as a reincarnated Anne Karenina that falls again in the same mistake or as kind of Eve Karenina defeated by the killer sweetheart. Mr. Bresson told me that the picture would appear in an exhibition, but I do not know if he's just being fishy, he's somewhat dubious in his "purely artistic" enthusiasm, you know as well as I do how these aliens are: they come in Romania as visiting a wild reservation with strange specimens and try to operate on them some psychic dissection to prove ... what ??! That we are more foolish, more cowardly, more lazy, more dirty. This gentleman was amazed by my French, good enough, and insisted on meeting us Thursday in the center to take another picture, I replied positively but I'm almost sure we will not go, Gigi is like in a trance, broken and away from the world and even from himself, I'm afraid he will ask me about the fortune teller he's been consulting when he was young, you know, Mrs. Kaluţescu, who is said to be seeing him in her glass globe watching TV with beads around his neck. Maybe a visit to the old lady Kaluţescu would be helpful, we would remember the light comedy from the fifth grade when we shared the donuts in the Herastrau Park , sitting on the sidewalk”s edge ... Now all are asleep here in the wagon but the light is fully on, Gigi keeps me in Continuous Tight Embrace as he travels through the infernal world, I feel him in his hot pulse. I caught love for him in the past two days, he has nothing in special, he is always the same, but now he wants a a life full of fresh love. I saw Rux at the Morgue, (Obitorio, in Italian, it sounds so cute, isn”t it? Like blinding...) Gigi does not know yet that she is dead. Rux was literally blue like no breath response to poetry, with her arms and legs twisted type Indian idol, they could not restore her to a natural and Christian position , and she was three months pregnant. It could have been Me instead of her... In fact, on Monday evening I had to meet him but he called to tell me that he could not come and I realized that the reason was Rux. If I were psychopathic and if I did not know that the taxi driver, who had died, was to blame, I might think they were lovers, Gigi and Rux, that she got pregnant and threatened him to give birth to that bastard and he deliberately made the accident hoping to kill her or even die both, as deserved. And if you knew how innocent Gigi looks like, it's not just the fact that all men are always children in front of a women, but also their tired delicacy and the transparency of ideas. Yeah, I know, you're going to tell me that Gigi is just another fully blonde and bored taxi driver like so many others and only my morbid intelligence raises him to the rank of prince, but if I do not raise the man I love to the highest possible rank then what the Cow is left to me? Bebe? The correct and ubiquitous Bebe who is not able to play with the pillows, and when he receives one directly in the dummy-head he solemnly rises up as an inquisitor and lock himself in the bathroom? If you really like him why don”t you propose him? You are better suited for him than me, and I think you always defend and praise him in front of me because you really like him. Maybe he is an example for you, an ideal model, you can happily associate him with the image of that father we never really had ... I feel mature enough to look after Gigi, what I feel next to him is earthquake, I feel like a ditch-woman with simple heart next to him, ripe and dense fruit that wants to be eaten. I can not wait to hug you, always warm, good and forgiving, dear Rosalinda "
Epilogue
That letter I”ve never sent to Monica, I kept it in this diary, I was too excited, sleepless, and in fasting state. I knew that the picture with me and Gigi will be published in France, it reflects an ideal love, very possible in those communist times and less possible in these new times. I knew, I imagined, we would be somewhat famous but what was I supposed to do? Jump up and yell kikiriki? Even now, it seems improper to me to reveal my cheerful identity. It's enough for everybody to know that Gigi and I are happy.
39. The Path (a very short piece from a very cool novel written by me about 5 years ago)
They were talking, trying to cover the whole field with their conversation about what it was like to go to vegetalization in a dry wheat field ( I only half-understood them), they said they would bury their phones in a common pit and instead of cross they will mark the place with a tin bugle. I didnt pay too much attention to them. It seemed to me that they did not deserve to conquer the Unknown with such thin garments and without any handy tourist orientation. However, a path is a path. They went cheerfully ahead towards a great Abandonment, and, as I was the last one in the row, I began to have doubts of sight to the left and right: what was that they claimed with their veiled mouth in order to keep the heat? I was conversing with the harsh rustle of the tangled spikes, and, unfortunately, they showed me another entrance, not quite a station made of wicker, just a widened bifurcation, like a polished ditch with knotted parapets on the edges that had easy-to-grab handles grasping and letting go, like the basket handles, very appealing ones. It was like a Teluric slide with small human interventions as the Gumelnita prehistoric site in my country. From place to place a tiny wood horse was marking what it could have been called human slide with all the weight in gelatinous state. Maybe I was not expecting anything good at the end, but it was worthwhile going through all those sensations of desolate villages until I heard weak voices in the fog. I saw the opaque contour of a well with two hat-covered silhouettes hatched with a luminous hand. I feel panic at them, of course I do. I interpret them more than to hear, I would like their nude dialogue to be like this:
-- Grand-grand-mother Ciulae stood on her chilim when Ben's daughter laid out the bowl on her coats.
- And you believed that, faces-faces.
They were laughing with knots all around them.
-- Wait! I feel a strange smell! Dont laugh anymore. It's a perfume, a perfume out of town, our women do not use that kind of vesperal thing.
- You crazy, Jagger, you know this is the no.1 danger.
-- Is there. I'm telling you something is out there.
Of course I wanted to be a museum wren with al the dusty decoration fallen on me. -- Screw you! You dream of perfume with woman traces through him and through me too.
- What if ... Idiot, this can be be a milky cur.
The other turned around under the impression of verbal rape:
- No, the milky curs have never entered so far in the dark before, they're afraid. The milky cur is a crap, put this with your fist in your head, and put a stopper on it.
-- Yeah, I have to make dreads in my hair to make you rats believe me... Jagger snorted, then began to walk towards me, grinning.
More and more I was shrieking, as in the days when my mother was telling me stories about ogres, why on earth were they calling me a milkshake? I woke up before the animal-smelling guy touched me. "
--I told you, wise idiot, that she was a milk-smelling cur here, said him slowly without turning his face away from me. Come and see it by yourself with all your raised hair now.
The other man is approaching in a hurry, duddling, and when is close enough he rose up his luminiscent thing to my dirty nose and started to whistle a stupid melody of them.
- They got courage. Tomorrow, we wake up with them in the village if we are not at all attentive.
-- What are you doing here? Jagger snapped at me, shaking my collar. What the hell are you doing here?
He did not know how to continue. I could not even cry or talk. Jagger pulled the white cloth from my back.
- What the damn mother is that? The Woe of Suffering?
- It's a windboard, I was finally able to articulate. Unpretentious.
Da Capo. They were talking, they were trying to cover the whole field with their conversation about what it was like to go to vegetalisation in a wheat field, as if they did not see me standing there, as if a river had gone pass through me ... ( ................................................)
Our Man (m) (Omul Nostru(m), from the volume Mă păcălea în Trinidad= she was making me dream about The Holy Trinity)
Between him and the giddy ox we have no resemblance. It's a dream-cut reality, he's still married to a supposed writer-she. They hung on the same lime colored feeling, but she weights a bit harder as if someone is pulling her legs with all his strength. The world was expecting a tense situation, the force of winding the events was slapping right where it hurts, making long stripes of color and after that returning to a joyous position. I do not know if a lazy engineer like a diving frog ever perceived what was going on on that ocasion. It was a call. There were emotional whirling waves of citric sensations. If you were doing any movement, you could feel carbonization of seconds and perimeter lost.
- I'm not crazy, I'm just polluting in the morning with my smoker's mist. I want me to run through the pink park with you, with your pink live-moving spins. I want mandolins on my feet. If I'm a doll I want a gone ribbon to fly directly to the sun like the ones that abounds in a bazar. With pleonasms I”m pleasing the Big-Mouth: you are not the literature law-maker, do you hear that? And you dont yell towards me, will you? The devil hurts my speaker. And it's continuously swelling up in his velvet as if we are expecting a soft-mourning funeral.
- Are you ready in your lousy clothes? Leave the mirror, unless you're trying to make a cocoon out of yourself! I love you the way you look right now, your visionary glow makes me so happy!
ps: please take also the devil”s name in vain, not only mine, with so much false adoration ...
The Nutcracker
- Not, It was not me, not this time, you see. It was Cioclovina just like a beacon comes she when you turn off the lights through the curtain comes out her electric-black hair smolensk vague bright eclectic. Dressed-up in purple mourning, politely, she invites you to a metallic wedding to the bone; when you pull the knife out red fringes burst and you pompously cataleptically fall down with the aesthetic plane cracked in glitter views: Happy Holiday wishes from some charming girls here. And a pliers, you'll see later what for. You coagulated yourself in the mirror due to self-forgetting contemplation, behind you Christmas stands as big as a Globalization with a Gingle bell and a Thinker-she fatalist decoration that you occasionally hit with the boot-foot. You're not sad. You are an avant-gardist with heavy bows, can not fly with them, you have no way to fly there, they started to sell tricolor pain with crow prints in the field, out of trash your raise your head sometimes to salute, Elegant Cardboard! Who the hell invented such a Black-Annoying Roller Printer that leaves a thick stick of noire self-adhesive? He would have wanted to cling a cause on every bright effect so that the fir-tree didnt look so upside-down Or he could sit in the bed where the ceiling mirror sent him a lot of cold: it has a force of impression equal to everything that was never told about the deep reflection of man-Jesus, a sinner himself, smiled in still smile: I hope the Despicator will open it in your dream with her golden tools, with her live chunks, which the Dinosaur knock too in the evening, struggling to invent a dinosaur- small and careless child game, escaped on the cement as a fleece. Baby Dragons .... (almost impossible to translate these poems and keep the concept alive, its so tiring...)
51. The cat
She suffered from a fresh hairdressing and cicatrization of laughter in her belly. The cat fought in her adult hand. Milk had made a Persian spread on the carpet as big as the Ottoman expansion in the christian world. At the time it managed to escape, the cat took with her two clips that she put into the lap of Irinel as if he were to blame. With such obvious evidence in his hand, he could no longer defend himself from the old pagan order, other than murmuring something inaudible and bending his old forehead in the opposite direction to the direction in which she came from. The non-hopping slipper was like an unmatching thing in her fleshy legs: one beneath the long dressing gown, the other full of unrunned running, remained in the place where the ex-cat, the gone one, had left a scrawny piece of pancake. I was already in bed so I was flumped through the blanket and forced to close my eyes immediately. But my cousin, who was unfortunately in a condolence visit to us, he was invited to take the sponge if he did not want to fly tomorrow to the lady with soft tamales and stone hard heart he sometimes called mother. Everything returned to a silence of ice, while her curly side underwent a change of unclear sort like running through fog up to the bathroom mirror. Yes, of course I kept my eyes shut and I was expecting granny father to prove her in godly words that she was looking much, much nicer... And more poetic, too. Asking who ever saw a black haystack rolled and revolved like that with falling springs as old phone wires at the time the receiver stood in the fork. Before she looked exactly like a turkey-she. Now, it just looks good, thank the cat properly for stealing the pancake crap. And what happened so bad? There have been broken some old things that only a virgin could regret, everything is better than before, and she is beautifully-beautiful. It is not like that? I and my cousin said yes. For which I was suspected of not sleeping properly, and she came close. Indeed, the cat was asleep beside me, which made the rest of the hairdressing fall down with the lamp as if we needed this short story now, the pink-light album grimaces suddenly slammed off the plug. Good luck that my cousin is good at electrolysis. Guts, and him when he knows a thing we”ve got nothing to worry about, until some sort of dots on the TV, and granny fatter has jumped his locomotor system out of the bathroom to see what the fork did you do, Nicholas? I do not give a lot of details about the poor old man, he thinks I'm really pagan because I laugh at all the ugly words he hastily escapes and then pretending as though as he no longer remembers. In any case, he has escaped over twenty such words before the TV snores. Lacking complete of women's tactics, she took Nicholas by the hand and put him under my blanket. Being two was more difficult to see that the gentle cat was between us. They were looking for her under the bed, especially on the left side where it smelled heavily. That's how our goal is sanctified, and the means were dragged out with a long broom. These are the consequences of going to the hairdresser the day before, this idea sticks so well to my mind that I will draw her tomorrow when I will remain again alone under the key. Sure, she will never know that the person in the drawing is herself, I”ll ask my granny daddy to invent something with a lot of straws, with a fat dress, with red peony like a bride portrait. At this moment they are thinking the cat disappeared out of the house and they are talking about wonders, and thanks God these two demons are sleeping. Which It was just because I fell asleep.