poniedziałek, 14 stycznia 2013

Magic Potion


*

Take two spoonfuls of the midwinter snow-white sparkling sunshine
from the midst of the silver spruce branches, which pine for more ice.
Add a pinch of the sharp needles piercing your lungs with every breath,
when you stop running to catch up with the clouds of steam from your mouth.
Drink slowly. And remember...

*

32 komentarze:

  1. Men and women leaf.
    Snow shine in tread.
    Needles sharp.
    Pinchpunch...
    ...pie pie pining for remembrance.
    Ember dance.

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  2. Coniferous evergreens.
    She underlegs cold.
    Needless to freeze.
    Caressing...
    ... her unforgettable pie.
    He burns.

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  3. The price of ice?
    It costs harts deer.
    Smash and carry cone.
    A slice of shame...
    ...served hot.
    No names in the deep woulds.

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  4. Juice, any won?
    How many rows
    in Auschwitz?
    Freezing in gas burners...
    ... Soap.
    Funny sounds in the operas.



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  5. An unreality show.
    No argument about it.
    'I love your skin,' he said.
    'It's cold,' she said.
    'Enter my fire,' he said.
    'I will,' she said.
    And now he burns...
    ...by the light of her lamp.
    Shade.

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  6. His flames
    turned out to be nothing...
    ... but black icicles.
    Upside down.
    Inside.
    And the light of her lamp
    made him see...
    ... darkness.

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  7. "Let there be Light,"
    Dog barks.
    Chasing His tale
    cross empty caverns,frozen quarks.
    Running stale spirals.
    Trip-trapping through
    the lonely labyrinth
    of His rubber sole.

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  8. The inverted commas doubled.
    He's in trouble.
    Who let the gods out?
    She gives him a smile.
    He takes 'know' for an answer.
    They steal red suede shoes
    and do the runner...
    ... faking a dance.
    Away to freedom.
    Chased by the gods.

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  9. Run Rabbi,
    Rum Wabi,
    Run, Sabi, run!
    Let's find a place in the
    sum, my sun.

    Nick, knock
    Pad ma wok
    Throw the god a bone.
    Follow me,
    For reign you,
    Sway a dance,
    We're home.

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  10. Rabies.
    Gods transform.
    Mad wolves.
    Horseradish.
    There's no place.

    *Knock, knock.*
    'Who's there?'
    'We pad your woks.'
    'Bone ape tit.'
    Home in deed.

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  11. Just one bite,
    That's all it took, yeah...

    Just one wulf,
    Padding forest trails,
    Hunting home.

    Red flash.
    Blood on snow.
    Ice on the water.

    And a shaft of smoke...
    Pier sing.
    Cauling.

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  12. @Iza Bella: A ona odpowiedziała: "Nazwę cię gawędziarką." :)

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  13. To TY Jane jesteś.....gawędziarką...cudowną gawędziarką....

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  14. @Iza Bella - Kim jestem? Jestem poprostu jednym wielkim fajtłapą. :)

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  15. Nie nie jesteś.jesteś cudowną Jane.....one for million...belive me....

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  16. Blood me sideways!
    That Jehovah witness
    of the divine potential
    POW
    Er... Est...
    Of every single cell....
    Knot 2 mansion quark...
    The scientific italics
    of a human being
    as pie ring
    4 physical immortality.
    And she just watches them
    on the PhD micro/macroscopic basis...
    Day by day...
    Pro fess or...
    Yet so many are blind.

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  17. The ant mounts the grass stalking
    Up, down, up, down.
    Purpose full.
    Sure lie?
    Butt know.
    A para sight eats its mind:
    Dicrocelium dendriticum
    Pushes it deathwards,
    A gain and a gain.

    Are we too blind?
    Control led?
    By evolutionary quirk?

    The sell, they say
    need never die.
    Yet we just watch
    our blood spread
    on petri dishes.
    Stone dead.

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  18. Gdybyś pisał po polsku....oprócz angielskiego..więcej Polaków by czytało....chyba nie ma w tym nic złego pisać po polsku RÓWNIEŻ?????????? PRAWDA?????!!!!!!!! ACHA...TO KIEDY BYŁY SZWEDY????!!!!!!!

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  19. Jane...this post was for Marek....not for you.misunderstunding...but..spróbuj...:)

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  20. Why does the Es ski mo practise breast stroke
    While the Jammy can whispers
    the fifty words for snow?
    Do we mutter dust languages
    beneath our breath
    just so
    we can say Odi et amo
    across the years?

    Slight finger touch.
    Precious point.
    Is a little port your geese
    the only way to...

    oko dziw...
    zastanawiam się?
    Chcę cudu.

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  21. Butter flies
    Silent wise
    Freeze
    Sawmill tongues
    Pen at rate
    Lease
    Neurosis
    Abundantly

    Space reset
    The Gräfenberg Spot
    What's up duck
    Sir Real

    Me Racle
    Wondering ring
    Beautiful eye sea

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  22. kocham..tę poezję...nie mam innego słowa....poprostu.

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  23. Poprostu?
    Stop! Pour...
    ...port soup.
    Roost pup?
    Pup torso??
    Pus troop...
    Poop rust.

    Skamieniałą poezję? :)

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  24. The wind whips waves today at the lease
    yet the ducks are set
    motionless on their spot.
    The still point in the
    sound and the furry.
    Soup er fishy ally, at any space.
    Neath under, off course
    tells an udder story.

    It's a grin sigh kell...
    Sir Really.

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  25. It did in deed
    take me a why ell.
    I'm not a poop pote
    for sake's sake!
    Eye cunt march to ordure
    left rite, left rite,
    making bridges brake
    with whirds.

    There is a wry time for god things,
    sum times swift,
    sum times slow.

    U no. :)


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  26. *

    Time flies
    Make the world go round
    Butter

    *

    The wounded wolf
    Woof -woof
    Won and only
    Gods

    Snow on
    Blood
    Frozen pows
    Mad ice
    Smoke

    Far a way
    From the huts he crawls
    To the heart of the woods
    Down a deep hole in the ground
    A cannibal-vampire
    Licking his miraculous caim

    *

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  27. She rained with wolves
    in the for rest.
    Her cannibal cure.
    Fleet fox of the woulds,
    cants, cudbees.

    Knot now.

    Fur fades to grey.
    Bones pulled a part and down.
    Dis remembered.
    The tug and tow of the
    whirled under
    a lures.

    Could (wood? should?)
    sum brave Or fey us
    strum a life line,
    a clew of knot notes
    to You rid a sea,
    so lust in loss for Hey days?

    Eaternal caim.



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  28. *

    A m arch thrue the s now
    A cross
    The field
    A winterbine

    *

    The wolf and the vixen
    Leaving the game
    Half a litter

    The tongue and the groove match
    The pairquet floor
    Eye wood knot

    Across the never see
    His bone goes wild
    Her lips glitter

    And there's no space between
    Their broken minds
    Time on spot

    *

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