I have just one life
I cannot share
Nor can I spare?
I have to spare
the running minutes
to my death journey

I have one life
that, that heavy is,
full of scars
I cannot spare
mess within starts

I am adrift to death
bashful and sad,
disarmed and blessed,
armless and full of rest,
ready to sleep on
what I' ve made bed

I rise low
lower that usual
like a man
left to his own devices
I crawl
amongst the mice

I have aborted you
from my palms I let you go
or from human touch
to call it noblessly
for you like noblessy

I have aborted you
completely let you go
to the world black
adrift to the claws of it

you live

In the cage of words unwind

Forget numbers, letters, words
each of us, sinks into
blessedly,
when thinking, drinking or
giving supreme swords
the noblesy can only be found
when winking,or ringing
the bells
in the words unwound

Think in colors and contrasts
of the poetess that pretends
to be kissing you
oh, you are trapped

Show me carelessly the senses
through your trust,
without lust
love me

Make me one of the
WORDS
UN
WOUND

How I have not been

I have not been writing lately
I have not been signing outloud

through windows I have been watching
beauties of the daily mail
through breath I have been tasting
the sickness of morrons

I have not been carrying myself
Lately I have not been carrying the cross

Chapels have been bending down
Christ has been checking on me
just with one eye
that is what he likes to do
When I have not been lately

I have not been fading you
I have not been losing myself

Blossoms were walking through the meadows
We were all witnessing it

But I have not been lately.

zvysok dna travim v posteli
coby v dennom ruchu
travnatych koseli
pokym hry a sny
sa zjavia v posteli

v objati noci
budem tancovat
z oci do oci
lamat hnev v sebe
ked vlockami lasky
opatrim teba

Reply to Zuzka

Jeseň má čaro krídel namočených v mede. I keď je jeseň často prehliadaná pod dohľadom depresie, melanchólie večrných podlampových rozjímaní a nostalgiou po inšpiratávne-čarovnom lete, ja sa vznášam v tejto agónii. Netreba sa báť tmy, ktorá príde. Netreba sa báť holých stromov a bledých tvárí. Ono to všetko pominie. Príde nostalgia. Opäť.
Opäť.
Nostalgia za večným ponorením v čajových dúškoch, dumaním za knihou v tmavých odtieňoch, za vánkom červených líc, ba i vín, strapatých vlasov a vanúcich klasov. Za konverzáciami podobajúcimi sa modlitbám.

takto chutí jeseň.

we were dying drinking into night

and once Little Prince said
we can see things truly
only with our hearts
what if my heart was transplanted
into sad people
migrating birds
cattle grazing in the Dead Sea

and here I sit, on a marble
while the bird is humming a keynote
kids shaping hands from a sand
and bees, one by onem disseminate vote
asking "who is to live, who is to suffer"

.HaRp PoEtRy.
So I am writing poetry
so you know
it is not quite like a pottery
the class that you find to attend
to create a universe
out of a small piece of shitty mud

so you know
I am writing poetry
it is not quite like a random talk
you conduct having three beers
attacking your hollow mind
mind that has been lost
from the surface of reality

So you know
I am still writing
to give you some clue
it is not like being on a first date
when you hide more than give out
I am giving out
myself to you

So I write poetry
in the calamity of ideas
unrefutably true
at the moment of conjuring them
oh, I touch them with eyesight
and sense them with every step
of my uncertainty

So I wrote a poem
a poem full of letters, words,
conceiving thoughts
of my own existence
forging through the swamps
of my own foolishness
I am giving out.

once the night brings the moment
when limbs just limbs are
and elbows seem to soothe
the body into a position
of storytelling


far away

a battle rings
in ears of pedestrians
crossing the paths
i welcome all the sound
to be paraphrased
properly in the name
name of moroseness

the one that comes and goes
like flowers in the spring
and in the winter when
they die to be covered
by holy holy snow
and crude breeze

that is how one prepares
himself for the discoveries
of that night
you can just taste it

penelope ma poslala
na dno mojich myslienok
oceanom posiatych
v dnesnych novinach
klasickych reci
nachadzam smiech a plac
avsak nie detstky