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7 poems - Volodymyr Bilyk

9/28/2013

2 Comments

 
Picture
1
Among those hordes 
that may become the mountains,
There was no movement 
That was not birds.
Among those hordes
that may become the mountains,
There was no movement
Made of foot

Hoar-horror teases
Hobble hockles
Awry rue rouse
row to get

How harrowing might be the ease
How harrowing might be the repose

And there was nothing to pour out

2
If I had the heads of three
And if i was a tree - 
I would turn and then turn again
To flip myself roots up to grow too strangely
With those heads on those branches
And then 
I'd rather phut 
to summon birds to sit and eat those glossy eyes
And be the moan-unmeant
Of thoughtless ire

But not the humpy umpire of 
the stillness rounded to remind 
the ounces of the starfish tears before the wrangle
I've seen before I thought 
about the heads i'd rather had 
than looking how the rolling stripes are crossing stars without notice
 
3
The one who wheels
Will whirl in turn
About to face the whir
Of one who leaves
the reek on reel
to reeve the lash to hail

The one who wheels
Will clap his cap on lap
And whir instead of turn
About to face the steady whirl

His smell will mind him 
just to bow and blow
at feet of head
But only to be eulogized 
in Childish-chant.

The one that pales the untouched 
Ahead Aside
Will only let him stumble over more than once.

(wall acts as a law)

4
Boy scared a lot 
by the boa on the meadow
- these boogie-moves of elbows.
Girl dared to loath 
by the gasps in the earshot 
- these sobs had turned into the doodle by the echo
Boy dared to look for
Girl scared to look at

Boy meets girl
To lionessly care about relax

He's meagre
She's effette
And the Vexations has to be repeated more than hundred times

What a waste...

5
End in the mood of doom
Sounds good
For rip and dip and drip
And those inflections 
Sing along 
just after curves had tightened up
The clod for clobber

6
If someone walking
Caught with blaze
In outburst - 
He'll fit in mind
As someone flying still.
(The fact is - never-never-never
,for this to happen...)

For every plash
To sign my hand.
Barbaric longing
soars along
and races with the shadows raving
Undisclosed
For unknown reason - 
Tracing only scratches
Left there by hurtle

(if only there was 
that clack of cache
to take it)

7
Thin this neat nit
For someone to listen
Thin this neat nit
For someone to look at the listeners

- catching the face 
Unswaddled by mouth waves
, undrained by the pictures from jar for the drivel
- atoning those who unraveled their ducts
By the pan-slap
- attaining those who unhooked their napes
by the nap
When the napkins had covered the nappe undried.

It flies - the thick of it - as kite unleashed,
It flies - as wind blows 
it out of chest
and only to be somewhat mashed
2 Comments
Lee Kwo
9/29/2013 02:09:33 am

Great words the work is good/SzusZa runs out of the phone box and onto the runway/ the shapes becomes formless in the mist of the white noise soon membranes and molecules separate and the body fades to grey a hand of wind scoops up the remaining scraps of DNA and locks them in a Belsen Jar/Only the psyche remains/ He wasnt sure he could make too many more trips thru to the Set/ Each one upset his psychosis/ he could feel the internal stress his skull had already swollen by 35%/ But he relish his pain it reminds him that in this deep trench he is still alive/one of the immune /Being alive has no attachments to good or evil/ the interval of time is long or short irrelevant of morals/he digs the trench until the point of endurance ends/That is his time awake/you must investigate the walls of shit houses and lavabos to find the desires of the fools in the drunken boat that image of Verlaine and Rimbaud fuking in the alley way while water from broken spout spills over them/ how had that image been made filmic

Reply
robert t natello link
9/29/2013 02:49:39 am

very interesting a great read

Reply



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