Deserted roads
shabby seagulls
the fishermen’s tired bodies
a cool sea
old shabby island
and heartbeat
that admires its home country.
A sip of good red wine
dreamy campaigns towards life
smoke of fine cigarettes
quiet light of the night lamp
and the energetic imprint of the typewriter.
A poet's thought
memory of the naked female body
view to the beautiful sunflower fields
ingenious tact of Beethoven the God
high tones of strong inspiration.
A hole in the core
some weak autumn leaf
some volcano of morning blood
some dry cough effects
some ugly words of a woman – demon
coke ovens in the lungs, alcoholic flows in the veins.
Time is moving on while we must,
Must what?
A new spasm of life approaches,
the beauties, the vices,
I give myself over to them
I drink the tragic life in one go
thirstily swallowing the comic substance.
I am pleased with the elixir and poison
the two authors playing inside me;
one performs like an ancient Greek
the other like a demolishing beatnik,
I answer with my musical lyrics
your compliments make me a special sage
I consider defeat the University of life.
And as you read, I am still there, standing,
In the symbiosis of Devil and God
of darkness and light, of flowers and thorns,
I seal the existence with my bloody fist,
romantically I am sliding along the paper
to face my poetic task.
No, not suicide, not self-destruction
accept life made of black and white substances
stand on your feet and walk in your own frame
eat the brown stinking mass
kiss the fragrant blossoms of spring branches
and listen to the deep message of the soul
and make this your only way to move forward,
into harmony with your own breathing.
rikpoems.com