"Biblia Ludzkości" | Nowy wiersz, 22.09.2024.

Biblia ludzkości:
odpływamy parostatkiem
karmimy feniksa
futurystyczne parki eksplodują
kto czyta te bzdury
zawieszone w kisielu

Kto sprowadził deszcz
na ogród wschodu

Droga na zachód zdaje się niedostępna
płynie tam statek
bieży tam pociąg i koń

W zachodzące słońce, gdzie nie ma szansy
na ego
przemawiam do siebie
czyimś głosem, kontrola urodzeń
sięga nadiru

Kto poprowadzi ekspedycję do nowej Europy
Afrykańskie mosty
dawno powinny zwodować
świt

Były takie plany, epoki lat temu
aby zrobić coś z podziałem
jednak wciąż wolimy odwieczne walki kontrastów
które zlewają się w poranne wino
pite z ust Agaty

A, w sumie, jak ty masz na imię
może po prostu biblia ludzkości
gdzie znów pomyliłem
kobietę
z bogiem

"Terrapark London" | New Poem, 4.09.2024.

I feel utopia in my pupils
stretching the word
up my neck
sweat from yesterday's parties
down my throat
this whole thing is floating
on immense skies
anchors of the cloud
alcohol from the Queen

drink up the cup
cup up the
void
tie the lace of your chin
wreck
lips
on TV channels
rendered obsolete

endless carlights, smashing like synthesized birds
the forest
of forget
dive
gladly into the bottom line
of every British
joke

I am boat
uprising the Brixton sunset
dividing the oar

she is life
terrapark London

"Caravana" | New Poem, 25.08.2024.

Thought like pale ice
sun
flower
cracking through the rainbow sky
arch of joy
modern classical music
om straws of light
on grass blades of country homes
caravana
to expert

Thrust of life
exhales the gutter shadows
people crawl through peanut sidewalks
raise psychedelic eyes
pyramid in forehead
straws of light
in hand

Caravana
to death
but in it, rebirth
of something stronger
than mere existence
eating ice cream and fucking around
the fridge
morning pale
arch of rememberance
modern classical music

"Mosaic of Music" (New poem, 16.08.2024).

Mosaic of music in debt to the moon
thin thick tick
dinner
goddesses of the cemetery
where we drink cheap wine
waiting for the daybreak
still
I play guitar

my partner reads a Bukowski book
were it not for his life it'd be boring
writers vs. consumers
I stop playing guitar
draw mandalas in snow
listen to the machinery of sky
this is a perfect morning
with some American friends and children
who play smiling
teach me how not to become
but be
free in the mosaic of music.

Three new poems, 29.07.2024.

Earrings

Childlike rainbows
rise from the polaris sky
crowding brains
with surprise and exhibition
charming people with illusions of birth
ill fusions
death rainbows
rising from the polaris city
they seem occupied with essence
but fate is not bothered
it swings by the swings
on which childlike rainbows hang
like a fool to his tarot cards
like a Gypsy woman
to her earrings

Persepolis

I climb the column
spy from the sand storm
I cry for life
beyond the desert eternal sunset
I crave for seas
but they haven't been here in ages
before the flood
this wasn't a tomb
this wasn't a city
this wasn't a temple
rather
some sort of a power plant to enlighten
the third eyed wanderers
on their quest for water
before the flood
before us
there was this holy
Persepolis

Therapy

Sand on sand
virtue on virtue
fast on fast
we terrorize our spirit with knowledge
where wisdom once carried
the joints of Rome
golden spliffs and stolen riffs
carried troubadours beyond the city walls
and into Bombay
this is for you, Brian Jones
lost child of a million white butterflies
legends of death cycle
this was for you always
who never wrote a song
hard to complete the circle
with no dots given
just paint it, like modern elders
some sort of
therapy

"Crystal Child" (New poem, 16.07.2024).

There's a snail trail in my head
highways for god
he sometimes takes the wrong turn
and then my thoughts explode

when he's on his course
my thoughts do nothing and wait
close to depression
close to desperation

vacation was good when I was younger
helped to clear out the brain
but I can't afford vacation anymore
it's just like wasting time

I regret having these connections
is it truly best to regret something you have done than something you haven't?
I'm not sure
but my connections were pain

escape from pain was more connections
impossible
vacant trails of god again, who is he in the first place
to take place in my spirit

my spirit should be crystal
thoughts reflected and calm
just like at birth or shortly after
just watching the trees from a crystal child's ride.

"1981 Again" (New poem, 6.07.2024).

New heads and old ideas
chicken's heatwave
I feel like a heart attack

ants parade through my brain
ejaculating the city
hot concrete on spikes

hamburger eating lady
can't save her children
from hunger

hunger fuels old ideas
and making money is the only
reality

after you make enough, you die
and build yourself
a peaceful lagoon

but who will live there?
Peaceful hungry children in debt
or the children of their children?

who will visit the poppy blower
in another life?
there is no another

so new heads bob away
to a Grandmaster Flash song
and suddenly it's 1981 again.

"Reżim / Regime" New Poem, 21.06.2024.

Gorąca pogoda delikatna
burza gwiazdowa z falą upałów
scenariusz marzeń o dronie
zerwany w starożytnym Rzymie

spacerujemy małymi uliczkami
słuchając Mozarta na naszych walkmanach
nie ma nic dziwnego
w tonącym człowieku ze stali

przychodzi do nas w każdy piątek
mówić o czystej prawdzie i religii
raczej krótko obciętej prawdzie
lub czymś bliższemu reżimowi

reżim wolnych dusz - najbardziej przerażający reżim
o którym można pomyśleć
rdzewieje jego stal nierdzewną
czyniąc go czerwonym człowiekiem lat 60-tych

kiedy paranoja zimnej wojny
rozciągnęła cienie grzybów na dzieci-kwiaty
zmuszając niektóre z nich do śmierci w wieku 27 lat
pozwalając innym dożyć dojrzałego wieku 80 lat
być świadkiem kłamliwej
Mercedesowej
utopii

***

Hot weather delicate
heatwave star storm
drone dream scenario
plucked in ancient Rome

we walk tiny streets
listening to Mozart on our walkmans
there is nothing strange about
the drowning man of steel

he comes to visit every Friday
talking clean truth and religion
clean cut truth rather
or something closer to regime

regime of free souls - the most terryfying regime
he can think of
rusts his stainless steel
makes him a red man of the 60s

when cold war paranoia
stretched mushroom shadows over flower children
forcing some of them to die at 27
letting others live past the ripe age of 80
to witness false
Mercedes
utopia

"Kawa Szatan / Satan Coffee" (New Poem, 17.06.2024).

Kawa Szatan o zmierzchu sprawiła, że nie mogłem zasnąć
ale nie tylko ta kawa
także ptaki, nietoperze, i liście
spisane tuszem po japońsku
językiem, który rozumiał tylko Pan Wrochem
jakimś cudem znów trafiłem do Berlina, choć przekreśliłem to miasto
jak tylko zamknięto Tacheles
mówię sam do siebie, jesteś weteranem
może powinieneś zacząć zarabiać na wykładach
ale kto chciałby ich słuchać
niemożliwe
ciche
spienione niebo
może jeszcze czerwone światło dla hipsterskich turystów
może też moja koleżanka, która 20 lat temu zdefiniowała sztukę
"sztuka jest ładna"
tak, kochanie, bardzo ładna
szczególnie kiedy trzeba zapłacić rachunki
niebo przecieka
i skończył się gaz

***

Satan Coffee at dusk kept me awake
but not only this coffee
also birds, bats, and leaves
written in ink in Japanese
a language that only Mr. Wrochem understood
somehow I ended up in Berlin again, even though I had crossed this city out
as soon as Tacheles closed
I say to myself, you are a veteran
maybe you should start making money from lecturing
but who would want to listen to you?
impossible
quiet
foamy sky
maybe another red light for hipster tourists
maybe also my friend who defined art 20 years ago
"art is nice"
yes, honey, very nice
especially when there are bills to pay
the sky is leaking
and the gas ran out

"People and Constellations" (New poem, 28.05.2024).

Inside the peace in the raspberry room
I collect teeth and strings
favorite mug
forgotten portrait
old record about Polish bells

Polish trees are growing
their branches dig into the marble
quiet places of the crazy
a landscape once young, forever remembered
lost on cassette

Don't cry over the fate of the grass
she only collects dew
subterranean laws of the empty Earth
someone will definitely learn something new today
about people and constellations

***

Wewnątrz spokoju w malinowym pokoju
zbieram zęby i struny
ulubiony kubek
portret zapomniany
stara płyta o polskich dzwonach

Polskie drzewa rosną
ich konary wpijają się w marmur
ciche miejsca szalonych
pejzaż raz młodych, na zawsze zapamiętanych
przegranych na kasetę

Nie płacz nad losem trawy
ona tylko zbiera rosę
podziemnych praw pustej Ziemi
ktoś na pewno nauczy się dzisiaj czegoś nowego
o ludziach i konstelacjach