Archive for March, 2011

Elegy for the Morning Odours

Morning, with dews and the odours of dawn
Vegetables and fruits laid on the street
Colorful sight for the sore eyes.

Morning, to the fishes that saying: “Hello! Hello!”
To the people that always waiting
At street corners and on the road.

Sweating, for the small and big stuff
For all the stuff that ever changing and repeating.

Swearing, against the day that breaks
Thousand promises and plans.

Morning,
Hopes to see you again.

S. Parman-Slipi, 5 Sept. 2005.

Cough inside the head

have I learn anything from this trembling that shook the tremor out of me? To read the subliminal thoughts and hidden messages that spread troughout my veins? The pale color of my masochistic fiesta, runs like cheap stocking that I wear to hid my real countenance. I greet thee welcome o sorrow of the gloomy heart. Why does the quest only spread to catch more and mere questions? So sunk me in again in soliloquy, kinky, like Ike when he hits Turner on the face like a ramshack. I know I should and I could yet I still would.. Not. Now there’s a statement of a lame feet. Afar from real goal, aside from mentions. So where does all this neglectments went, o man with wench tits?

Humaine brain: no limitz!

why there’s a spot for the spotless? Because everyone’s too aware for themself. And to prove that, try have as many followers you can gather, and sooner or later your senses are growing more acute to the sound of soundless tambourinas. No longer spake any taboo, no more glitch on typhos, and hence: you started to write burden with your thumb. You started to feel that you are no longer mortal. You feel like you’re a naivette angel fought on the highest level of mortal kombat with the lowest form of avatars.