New poem

DICS-DISTRIBUTION

Not just unavailable filming. A screenplay that works. At all costs, career-fame is not even a redemptive, exceptional glorification of life, nor is it the eternal futile climbing of the success-ladder of recognition – only Humanity is the only important thing. Only the sparking summer sun, sea, romance.

Only the loyal footprints of love, the blushing kissing-floods of blushing faces. Spicy delicious roast, meringue-bean cream cake. Only my sweetheart’s heaven-laugh is the really important one. Dancing to the music of lazy ripples, a salty-tasting superstition Twilight that covers our whole body. Only concentrated attention is important: empathy and tolerance, which is becoming more and more stunted and is being squeezed out of this now vile Executioner’s World.

Only aching tenderness, an Edenic beauty is important, which can stretch its eager net over the yarrow-soulful moments to triumph over ever-changing Time. For things, objects, and friends are always breaking away from us. For only the great Nothing is the only absolute constant. Only misery, the growing sense of loss, remains in balance.

Lost happy endings can only be played by theatres, if they can play them. The cords of conscious action have long since been broken, and even now one can still see the forgotten senses, the infarct-inducing, ice-cold knife emotions of break-ups. The festering big world keeps scraping away its increasingly filthy wounds. An over-secured lock would be needed to prevent cheap little secrets from leaking out through cut slits.

They can no longer believe in the current overblown, overprotected, over-secured systems. Those who have sinned and transgressed now get away with it, as others do as the only pathetic recipe for survival. The ruptured, unravelled cause cannot be known in any way! The stack-stars are always swept out after closing time!

New poem

PARTY-DATE

A hundred years from now, a party girl,
a cosmetic, plasticised goddess,
will be so at home that
she will be despised by the average man,
as one who fears for his
petty career and trembles!
Honour deliberately digs a pit in the bottom
of the pit of calculating games,
and no one cares about the chattering
mouth-carat of the puppets
in the tabloid media!

The new-avant-garde prose line
of poems is shouted down, saying:
one-night stands have more east!
Morals and humanity long since shed,
mothers of children can’t know what
an uncertain livelihood
and a messy tomorrow might bring!

The trembling, weeping cries of the little
angels shiver like painful vapours
in the abandoned alleyways of the streets!
– What this present prostitute Age
is extracting from itself,
and creating, its pathetic
beneficiaries are also,
like molehills, hiding in underground,
apocalyptic worlds,
chewing on the hard-to-get,
gnawing colonies!

A greedy food-chain insidiously lurks
in the tunnels of each one’s secret instincts;
the strong devour the weak,
the weak the weakest,
and while the Golgotha-stricken
vulnerable clamour for
more reprieves from the company
of lords and petty kings,
their pathetic shipwrecked lives
are consciously fearful
– no-man’s-land, fly-piss infects
their chances of survival too!

New poem

PUBLIC GAME

The Earth has become a small room globe.

Szimat-glutton, werewolves, longing,

among negotiated lambs, perhaps always

the timing of the brainwashed buzz words was more fierce.

The daily vulgar, preached,

after a shaky hypocritical adventure

not even humanly

they should live here as animals.

Understanding and sober handshake is promising

your badge of honor no longer matters

if you stay active for minutes,

free-thinking mind

s workshop-like, alamus creativity.

To such petty human gods

all submissions are prohibited,

whose only purposes are conceived milk power.

Wise memory is by no means learning.

We had a light-hearted column,

junk little nothing to throw away

– it is now being rusted, swallowed.

And if we all wanted to be at the same time

all astonishing,

sanda argument or responsibility

as acknowledging heavy burdens.

Tiny larval beetles abound,

buzzing in grass country.

Everyone understands that.

Most self-defeating,

his usury rises above Guliver

intentionally in the eyes of others

but you don’t have to act.

Already fragile bird wings

the hard-won peace.

It shouldn’t be dusty

humiliate nothing

nor destroy it permanently.

Sooner or later more signs

leaves footprints behind…

Life-death virtus is spiced up

a galaxy of coastal faces with pathetic internal warfare

– you can’t stand alone

not a lot of fish thrown ashore.

Whose number is dripping,

like even a few wasting crumbs.

He hesitates forward

that he was forced to take immediate action.

You boldly change the target and device,

and you don’t know if it made sense anymore ?!

– Alamus flea worm

to diligently diligently

chews its frowned victims;

he tied it up to a thin hair

volatile fate while in existence

tunnel and ferry at the same time.

An inherited spiritual hump is grown by little people,

or sweaty sweat,

because they may know secretly that there is no one left,

who combines with common sense arguments,

or argue for it

it’s a shame the free flow of thought too!

New poem

OUTSTANDING ROLE

Every day we visit our fattened, pumped Adonis, our poisoned Goddesses. Between the calvary of pre-fed dating sites, everyone is driven and moved by the pseudo-truth of money.

A passionate, arrogant stone-jerk entrepreneur-businessman rolls into our dreams without a passing career and success-seeking. The degraded truth of our unfair, bleak fourteen-hour work is routinely lied to by our top leaders.

Everywhere we allow the appearance to hope, which sadly mocks our livable lives on a daily basis. Everything here now favors downsized standards. Bungee is jumping with diligent, glue-lifting hands, while used bag radios are disco by spent fifties.

The never-before-seen hand we once bile over above all raises others to the stars in turn while pushing others into the dust. Human well-being, or mercy — has long been known — is not enough here.

After running out of inaccessibility, we run after a dinner of diligent, nodding monkey-Johns. A squabbling crowd of misery soon wipes out the mood while the double-zero chaos persists.

Princess swans rarely date between job-frogs and orphaned hedgehogs. Lying seeming truths ruin trust, modern hope, and the modern subsistence minimum that favors stability. The power of Judas-money to change hands encloses the heart and the thinking intellect.

Damn smiles tilt in the corners of insidious faces. Nowadays, there is no place for home-creating nests, only for strained Stakhanov overtime. Fillers in our pockets can rarely redeem this comic world. The shops of luxury goods stores are empty, as there are no longer enough token coupons to fill the everyday hassle of everyday life as the only possible antidote to prosperity.

We can only experience our unspoken loves, our loves in wars of likes. And even if it was, I lost the ideal that there could be no compromise compassion just a chatter above all else.

New poem

THIEF-WRINKLES

On the donkey ladder of our years, just another insignificant,
symbolic gesture is the unworthy web of our wrinkles.
He paints silent, silent incisions,
draws encrypted hieroglyph diagrams
maps of talkative faces.
Heart beats, which are becoming increasingly rare
they are waiting for the last time
to be able to drum again, permanently.

Oh, but it can’t be two anymore
shaking hands for each other,
which has an uncertain future
face at all costs.
Not anymore. Faded universes
memorial bones
contemplate nothing worth it.
Two talking deer eyes,
even nicknamed shooting stars
on the dark-mass upholstery of the horizon
they would still open
the secrets of a selfish stubborn heart.

In tired bodies biological age chews, marcangol
another insidious worms.
Also the extended distance
testifies to confidential coexistence.

• On the petals of former exotic beauties
  today botox s collagen masses are produced.
  The former recalled,
  ruin of ruins from a lovely face
  could he just stay ?!

Why not be released with dignity,
to grow old with a stoic sex ?!
It can no longer be tolerated in wounds
not torturous self-exclusion,
not a prodigal loneliness.
In both cohesive souls
warns of hieroglyphs of injuries
again and again the accelerating time.
They’re both on purpose, killer
they silenced themselves with stubbornness.
After all, what else
we could already expect to exist,
which betrayed the flow and deceived them?

There are heartbeats
single layer indifference,
wooded doomsday boredom.
For each other, unceasing,
immortal emotion anyway
he benefited from it
the sacred chalices of their morality.
Only then will you move on
can be important and thoughtful,
if they still dare to act together:
even the devastating,
even in self-righteous death faithfully.

The wasted,
tired happiness cannot be measured,

• but maybe it can be replaced.
  In two trembling hands for two romances
  sigh blessed heart.
  And why all living wounded s fall
  with the immortal message of echoing kisses
  they will measure their values!

New poem

UNACCEPTABLE ABSORPTION

They are already in a row, all of them: comrades, romantic loves, merry memories of old friendships – the fear and horror enveloped in anticipation pushes everyone into suspicion from the fierce uncertainty of tomorrow.

Our world, as a misunderstood, uninhabitable Nineveh apocalypse, hangs on pruned hairs; deliberately failed attempts at yew flower life for hopeful survival. Discarded, sacrificial lives are fasted by a day – day by month and then – and can be followed by a rather serious decade, while a long and reliable cure and era can greet Golgotha-Calvary humanity.

The wild virtuous dance of infinitely exhausted rope nerves ticks and grinds the whole of Being faster than the encrypted alchemy of molecules and cells.

There is still a long way to go before the biological code can decipher the nature of pathogens. Cracked in March mirror ice, gloomy, frozen true pearls smashing the sky. Discarded stars are cherished by distant space. A nightmare emerges from my closed, dreamy eyes: Maybe this is my last spring ?!

I wonder why I couldn’t have a happy and contented life next to One-Someone, whom I can definitely trust myself with? “It condenses into cold walls, my bitter loneliness shrinks.” Four prison-walls in solitude, hiding silently, waiting for me to land on myself.

How much time do I have left? My broken memories judge me as arbitrators. Another creative idea and thoughts are dustless, because there are hardly any prophets and free thinkers left who would dare to call, to dare to resurrect the innovative spirit from its dust.

Where else we went will take you: total and uncertain. Petrified footprints, chess steps pull, call. The repeated scientist words: We can do more with prevention! They shred into nothingness while anyone is absorbed by the massive tar material. In my tired skull, the stray intellect would still glow nobly: I face the absurdity of the unacceptable every day!

New poem

THRESHOLD

The Ending Time has been chasing her forever these days.
First tangled, constantly
he tore my panting hair follicles in clumps,
then fields of my lush fur
he burned it as sterile.
My years as rings trees
stacked in the trunk,
like spacesuit rings are barren
and stateless cosmos in darkness.
Intimate, groups of friends were scattered,
people-centered texts.
I tried to find meaning and purpose for
that so many trees,
gallows ordeal
after that I still live and exist.

Happiness is a petty lack of routine yet
still staggering on the doorstep:
“likes, dislikes” – romantic secrets
it would be so good to decipher it yet.
Balm-scented, precious pair of eyes shone brown.

• Behind every cracked mirror
  another yawn,
  Janus-faced man standing grotesque grimacing.
  Biccent secretly let me hope
  getting to see if you deserve it
  happiness still finds its way to me.

Outgoing farewell words,
tame winking memories in memory
where did they go when they were comforted,
had to be encouraged, dragged to the ground
I would have become holy in the shipwreck,
persevering will, – conviction,
that sooner or later everyone will make sense!
I often bumped into climbing walls,
for no one could be direct enough
or volunteer,
to warn
obstacles that determine my existence.

I’ve failed myself a million times
in a thousand changeable forms.
It’s just my falling hair
yellowed photographs are reminiscent of.
The organs are all physical,
so they are visible and interpretable.
But the soul is complex, intricate
formulas should always have
break down responsibly,
that what – anno – is broken,
he suffered an injury in his sternness
will limp again as a whole!

New poem

TENCE PRESENCE

In a stretched stuttering among hero lovers,
in a shell-hug, in a silent gloom
the desire for a home nest flies over you!
Birds start falling,
and the beasts also draw from the fields of fat pastures into the wilderness!
He hugs the sandy glowing shore with the still cooling foam of the sea,
s Beloved with silk bronze brown
teasers on a mischievous caress of Sunlight!
An hourglass clicks in a shaky sense of loneliness
in your stretched rib basket!
It would start from Ithaca unknown,
not insured for long journeys,
can you come back yet!

You populated yourself uninhabited,
with the infections of your stateless pessimism
and if only someone would cherish your jungle hand
you won’t catch it,
as a silent witness for a lifetime

loyal trust leaks from cracks,
and on the ark of your tongue forever
it shatters into a silent voice,
breaks up the dearly confessed Word!In all self-awakening
therein lies our insidious fear:
wonder hell the next day
how can we walk?

A naked knife lies in your perforated heart,
and he does not dare even now to interrogate killing blades
selfish murderous intentions,
which can increase the levels of your cowardice!
“My mouth is bleeding from broken wounds in my cloudy sky!”
As a wing-torn bird, I should stop in Time;
we can only be waves submerging in ourselves!

Exposed stateless from coast to coast
the temper of a raging murmur of existence!
It also falls in our instincts
what Doom can come after!

New poem

PHASES OF COUNTERFEITING

The world has become an unprecedented order.
Sneaky, cheeky, awful.
An example of a backhand hyena
is that a human-to-human galad wolf,
and trampling on sensitive people is the possible, walkable path.

As a wounded, barking dog,
anyone can blame the other and instead of truth,
total members digest and knead our members.
Galad’s hand is leaning towards everything.
And they are whistling through
the cheap hours of their souls
with career-smelling, false promises,
like the slight, hellish pains of perforated teeth.

Eventually, everyone is guided and then cheated on.
In their triumphant beak,
they rob themselves of awards,
titles, orders of merit.
Who could hear the cries of a desolate, lying heart?
The squeaking silences,
the painfully overestimated interests
that spread the webs of another
obscure bargain around petty,
yet influential necks, chic limbs ?!

Life, anyway, is sour, pre-sliced.
Who got what cards?
Many already understand the harmful
evils that accumulate in their sizzling mouths as pus,
which spread by destroying
themselves like a plague.
The swirling, damaging joy
felt by others is degraded into ancient thirst.

A few viper-busted mab-diva
blossom with a stubborn revenge,
a contributing stubborn smile as a tendency to lifeline.
A real chemical charge in double-stranded,
forked tongues: word-of-mouth, lacy arsenal.
– Infinite mental disorder drums, throbbing,
and you can’t even guess
the glaring psychology of emotional triangles.
Everything also has an adventurer formula:
whoever forgot to surrender
or learns, or soon falls out of the history of forgery!

New poem

LETTER

You, the most adorable chubby King King
from the mangalica
– a vulnerable, slightly broken hedgehog yet
– will create a new style in this sunny
February that looks like
a nut shell in the home of forest dwellers.

Our soul says to us: Look!
The little clumsy, unfortunate
one who wants to prosper on his own.
You are a shattering, petty debris,
even a pathetic Sisyphus begging for help crying,
who carries a dull-bored truth
— even the hump they wanted
in the middle of their backs
rather than your cowardly, apostate essence.

You’ll still linger
in the wooded silence at the edge
of the woods. With a tiny head,
your coffee-gray color, you invite forgiving love
into this emotionless, hyena world.
You know: if everything is lost,
because the forest is burning long ago,
and you have to say goodbye to
rotten oaks into the depths
of a pale cave – I would love to talk to you,
I could whisper to you: the world is a cheater and a liar,

In the conscience of the weak,
but also strong in their vulnerability,
galad-petty instincts always stop.
You can also wait for the passage
of Being to come to everyone one by one.
It is converted into a useful
humus material by the retaining motherland.

Together we were exiles
and scavengers in the eyes of our world,
and if we were gracious to us,
the heavenly powers might
receive the counted minutes
of our lives as a fuller gift,
which always takes us
and guides us with its secret compasses.
– There is a parchment sound
in your head and music.
Keep your individuality
and independence in your hiding places…