poniedziałek, 3 marca 2014
'On my comma nd... Write turn!'
Won to... Won to... Won to...
No more standing to attention.
Last bro ken words have finally abandoned me.
I AM speechless.
While the sun is rising... for...
sobota, 1 marca 2014
sobota, 14 września 2013
Everything comes in waves
my mu sic
Everything is a wave
The only difference
Between a poem and a stone
Between a poem and a stone
Is the frequency rate
Time is a form of space
To be exact
I raise my yesterday's eyes
To see tomorrow
I take a look
And don't I look as goodAs I can listen to
my mu sic
niedziela, 1 września 2013
When I was descending the sunlit slope this morning, my screwed up eyes caught sight of three naked nymphs, sunbathing on the jetty below. The fresh breeze from the lake was fanning my face. The pines and spruces on the other shore, swaying gently in a magical dance to their soothing swoosh, looked taller than they really were, as they overgrew the cliff and the tops of the trees growing lower met and intermingled with the branches of those growing higher. And the grass was so green, when I kept walking down the hill...
I took my clothes off quietly, with a close watch on the three naked nymphs, and stepped into the water. The splash alarmed them and they started covering their beautiful bodies in panic with their hands and pieces of fabric. Far too clumsily and hastily as for nymphs. I dived...
When I was descending the sunlit slope this morning, and the fresh breeze from Wigry lake was fanning my face, I changed my mind. Into something else. And this new entity made a choice. I decided to meet her in person. The same one who had been there when she thought they were alone. I resolved to meet her in the flesh. Mine in hers.
The pines and spruces on the other shore, swaying gently in a magical dance to their soothing swoosh, looked taller than they really were, as they overgrew the cliff and the tops of the trees growing lower met and intermingled with the branches of those growing higher. And the grass was so green, when I kept walking down the hill.
I took my clothes off quietly, with my brand new mind fixed on this hopeless idea. After all, every Time we meet, we fall apart. All people's Souls are One. One Vibration pervading the vast empty spaces inside the inside of every quark of our body cells. One Sound Wave. For God is Music. I stepped into the water.
The Sphere of the Absolute intermingles beautifully with all possible and impossible dimensions, including the eternal infinity of the physical universe. Here and now, in the sphere of the relativity, One Vibration falls apart. To make the difference. To create the drama. I dived.
The only difference between diving and flying is water. The only difference between a thought and a stone is the frequency rate. If two minds transmit on the same wavelength, they can project knowing each other for eternity. And since thought is creative... I leapt out of the water like a dolphin.
poniedziałek, 8 lipca 2013
The previous night, the ghost given up by Natasha Third soared towards a white light. The light’s source was an odd-looking creature. A horse. But with wings. And a horn in the middle of his forehead. Snow-white and sparkling.
He was grazing on the fresh green grass of the sunlit hill, when Natasha 'landed' gracefully. She was bright and luminous, wearing only a white, semitransparent tunic reaching no lower than the end of her back. The bottom back.
The meadow was wet with dew. Its drops shone in the early morning sunrays on the blades of grass and Natasha's first impulse was to throw herself onto the ground and suck on some of the most splendid tufts. So tempting....
She recalled that stupid joke about the farmer who hadn't eaten anything for a few days. He was either broke or crazy. Or both. Anyway, it was a long time ago, when cottages didn’t have indoor loos. So, on the first day of his fast, the farmer went behind a bush for a poo. But on the days that followed no matter how much he squatted and grunted, nothing happened, as far as a bowel movement was concerned. Finally, on the seventh day, when he squatted once more, he felt something really weird going on. He looked down underneath and saw his arse was scoffing the grass.
As she stared desirously at the fresh light green blades, Natasha felt some pressure in her stomach and lower... She decided not to sit down here. Just in case. After all, she didn't have any panties on under the gauze.
She looked up at her Patronus. The unicorn Pegasus was absolutely beautiful. And so white.
'Olga would love him too...'
So shining. And his horn.... Projecting boisterously. Hard and proud. Swinging gently. Ploughing the air. Forwards and backwards. To the left and to the right. Upwards and downwards. Up and down. Up and down. In a magical dance. As if the unicorn Pegasus were trying to enchant her with his horn. Natasha felt her nipples stiffen and pretty soon she was all wet inside...
Her spiritual guide knelt down before her, spread his snow-white wings, and lowered his head, shaking his mane encouragingly. Natasha reached slowly forwards, took his smooth projection delicately in her hands, shivering impatiently with a yearning for sensual pleasure, and inserted the horn where it belonged. She felt, deep inside, like living once more...
(From The Cave)