postsuprarealism.blogspot.com

Michel Martin

Marți, 10 mai 2011. My devotion to separateness. Nobody ever says don’t leave me or stay with me. What they say is I am alone be guilty for my loneliness. Take the hammer of my consciousness and smash it to the bricks. I’ve so carefully aligned to build my house. This house is my devotion to separateness. In my house children grow backwards their hair grows inside their scalps. Their arms grow in their lungs and their hearts grow in their brains. Children of Mary Magdalene. Where the mystic river runs.

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Marți, 10 mai 2011. My devotion to separateness. Nobody ever says don’t leave me or stay with me. What they say is I am alone be guilty for my loneliness. Take the hammer of my consciousness and smash it to the bricks. I’ve so carefully aligned to build my house. This house is my devotion to separateness. In my house children grow backwards their hair grows inside their scalps. Their arms grow in their lungs and their hearts grow in their brains. Children of Mary Magdalene. Where the mystic river runs.

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Michel Martin | postsuprarealism.blogspot.com Reviews

https://postsuprarealism.blogspot.com

Marți, 10 mai 2011. My devotion to separateness. Nobody ever says don’t leave me or stay with me. What they say is I am alone be guilty for my loneliness. Take the hammer of my consciousness and smash it to the bricks. I’ve so carefully aligned to build my house. This house is my devotion to separateness. In my house children grow backwards their hair grows inside their scalps. Their arms grow in their lungs and their hearts grow in their brains. Children of Mary Magdalene. Where the mystic river runs.

INTERNAL PAGES

postsuprarealism.blogspot.com

1

Michel Martin: octombrie 2010

http://www.postsuprarealism.blogspot.com/2010_10_01_archive.html

Joi, 21 octombrie 2010. Futurist Manifesto of Lust (1913) by Valentine de Saint-Point. A reply to those dishonest journalists who twist phrases to make the Idea seem ridiculous;. To those women who only think what I have dared to say;. To those for whom Lust is still nothing but a sin;. To all those who in Lust can only see Vice, just as in Pride they see only vanity. Lust, when viewed without moral preconceptions and as an essential part of life’s dynamism, is a force. 8594;→Flesh creates in the w...

2

Michel Martin: ianuarie 2011

http://www.postsuprarealism.blogspot.com/2011_01_01_archive.html

Duminică, 9 ianuarie 2011. Who is this woman who talks to me. People write about vegetables and pelvises. People write about the death of their children. And the crimes they’ve committed. There’s a gender error sitting on my porch. Looking me in the eye. Holly ghost, the torch of my loins. People write about their childhood and senility. People write about fucking their mums. They couldn’t find my corpse lying on the bathroom floor. People write about suicides and gas. People write letters of condolence.

3

Michel Martin: iunie 2010

http://www.postsuprarealism.blogspot.com/2010_06_01_archive.html

Luni, 28 iunie 2010. Requiem, Lacrimosa - Mozart. Abonați-vă la: Postări (Atom). Editura Brumar, 2009. Editura Marineasa, Timisoara, 2004. Requiem, Lacrimosa - Mozart. Artisan of Images And Words. Photograph: Study in Blue. Despre femei, lupi, vânători. 8220;Limba în care gândesc eu cuvântul moarte/ nu este și limba în care gândești tu cuvântul iubire”. In a morning dream I had a vision. Primul fragment din ROCKSTAR. Site-ul si blogul scriitorului Adrian Suciu. Word-weaver by Astrid Lowe.

4

Michel Martin: My devotion to separateness

http://www.postsuprarealism.blogspot.com/2011/05/my-devotion-to-separateness.html

Marți, 10 mai 2011. My devotion to separateness. Nobody ever says don’t leave me or stay with me. What they say is I am alone be guilty for my loneliness. Take the hammer of my consciousness and smash it to the bricks. I’ve so carefully aligned to build my house. This house is my devotion to separateness. In my house children grow backwards their hair grows inside their scalps. Their arms grow in their lungs and their hearts grow in their brains. Children of Mary Magdalene. Where the mystic river runs.

5

Michel Martin: decembrie 2010

http://www.postsuprarealism.blogspot.com/2010_12_01_archive.html

Joi, 30 decembrie 2010. Gasit cu placere, prin arhivele virtuale, chiar daca prenumele mi-a fost usor distorsionat, un scurt eseu scris de subsemnatul pe la 19-20 de ani. Http:/ gandurilamiezulnoptii.redbyte.ro/? Redat mai jos, fara diacritice si corecturi si cu toata inocenta siropoasa si patimasa a penitei la prima iubire. :). SCURT TRATAT DESPRE FEMEIE. Pleca de jos si alegea cele mai inalte culmi pentru o sinucidere calma, calda. Urletul era suspin. Ca sa-si gaseasca dumnezeul, trece pe la toti ceila...

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Daniel's Blog | în ziua de azi ne vorbesc degetele. pe tastatură. | Pagina 2

https://poetapoetae.wordpress.com/page/2

În ziua de azi ne vorbesc degetele. pe tastatură. Articole mai noi →. București. după incendiu. memento. Noiembrie 6, 2015. Ne manifestăm libertatea mișcându-ne în voie. Scriem mesaje preapuținobscene (liste cu nume) către președinție. Vorbim între noi facem planuri câteodată cântăm. Dacă mergi printre morminte. Realizezi că nicio cruce nu poate acoperi. În cimitero militare italiano. Și neguțători de coroane. Ne manifestăm libertatea păcălindu-ne. Din când în când atingându-le cu teamă. După ce ai ars.

dianabercu.wordpress.com

Despre fericire |

https://dianabercu.wordpress.com/2010/01/21/despre-fericire

Într-o zi cu toţii îi veţi mânca din palmă Dianei. În fiecare seară îţi ţopăi pe canapea. Îmi arunc hainele prin camera ta în stânga şi în dreapta. Mă uit la picioarele tale din jos în sus. Şi te bombardez cu propoziţii care fac să-ţi crească secreţia de endorfine. Încât de fiecare dată te culci zâmbind. Aştepţi cu nerăbdare să ne întâlnim. Nici nu-ţi dai jos cămaşa şi papucii de casă. Sari direct pe canapea. Dar în fiecare dimineaţă uit. De Diana Bercu pe ianuarie 21, 2010. Introdu aici comentariul tău.

poetapoetae.wordpress.com

schiță cu mireasă și tren | Daniel's Blog

https://poetapoetae.wordpress.com/2015/05/27/din-termini-2h12

În ziua de azi ne vorbesc degetele. pe tastatură. Capăt de linie. porta di roma. Roma despre zei. →. Schiță cu mireasă și tren. Mai 27, 2015. Cumva împotriva legilor fizicii. În partea de jos a compartimentului. Mai multe cutii la un loc. Cutii de conservă cu gust de ananas. Conserve legate pe-un fir de undiță. De bara din spate a unei mașini vechi. În căldura din tren. Sforăituri și scrâșnet de dinți. Scârțâit de roți pe șine. Al unui cuplu-nainte de divorț. De la roma la florența. Rochie albă de mireasă.

poetapoetae.wordpress.com

villa borghese. totul corect. | Daniel's Blog

https://poetapoetae.wordpress.com/2015/05/29/villa-borghese-totul-corect

În ziua de azi ne vorbesc degetele. pe tastatură. Post-it pe un frigider de student →. Villa borghese. totul corect. Mai 29, 2015. Toate se nasc dintr-o nevoie acută de a urla. Nevoia primordială de a da cu pumnul în masă. Ori de a sări la beregata celuilalt cu ochii închiși. Apoi relaxarea pe care o aduce cu sine. Pietrele astea așezate una peste alta până la cer. Un babilon în care toată lumea este corectă politic. O plantă care nu respectă libertatea altei plante. Și se cațără pe același zid. Complete...

poetapoetae.wordpress.com

capăt de linie. porta di roma. | Daniel's Blog

https://poetapoetae.wordpress.com/2015/05/22/capat-de-linie-porta-di-roma

În ziua de azi ne vorbesc degetele. pe tastatură. Schiță cu mireasă și tren →. Capăt de linie. porta di roma. Mai 22, 2015. Pe drumul care duce către ieșirea din oraș. Templele de sticlă ale unui dumnezeu viu. Rugăciunea se face în taină. Degetele simt nodurile tari ale metanierului. Ce curăță buricele degetelor. Toate cele de trebuință slujirii. Sunt așezate cu grijă pe rafturi. De oameni de bine. O asociație a voluntarilor. Salariului minim pe economie. În trecere spre cele douăsprezece altare. Comente...

dianabercu.wordpress.com

Ea nu e |

https://dianabercu.wordpress.com/2009/10/24/ea-nu-e

Într-o zi cu toţii îi veţi mânca din palmă Dianei. Pantofii ei roşii încă mă mai aşteaptă le fel cum m-a aşteptat şi ea. Citind până când i-au căzut toţi nasturii de la vestă. Merg pe vârfuri până la fotoliu de frică să nu calc pe genele ei împrăştiate pe tot covorul. Cu degetele de la mâna stângă îi scriu o scrisoare pe praful de pe mobilă cu dreapta îmi piaptăn părul. Mă aşez şi mai deschid încă o dată cartea în care i-am pus inima la presat. Închid geamul l-aş deschide îl deschid. Completează mai jos ...

dianabercu.wordpress.com

Glaucom |

https://dianabercu.wordpress.com/2009/11/13/glaucom

Într-o zi cu toţii îi veţi mânca din palmă Dianei. În spatele meu aleargă Domnul cu Pălărie Roşie urmat de corul de cântăreţi epileptici. Mă împiedic. De ce m-am împiedicat? Domnul cu Pălărie Roşie mă calcă pe mână. Îmi întinde bricheta îi aprind ţigara îmi face cu ochiul îi şterg fruntea de transpiraţie. N-o să mai fie niciodată la fel îmi zice sper că îţi dai seama de asta. Nici dacă îţi pui mănuşi albe şi ochelari de vedere. Cum îi plăcea lui. Nici dacă de acum încolo găteşti doar tartă cu cireşe.

dianabercu.wordpress.com

Bună dimineaţa! |

https://dianabercu.wordpress.com/2009/11/01/buna-dimineata

Într-o zi cu toţii îi veţi mânca din palmă Dianei. Foca în care m-am mutat de curând are sub pernă o bombă cu ceas. Trebuie să am grijă când mă duc la culcare, să-i deschid încet gura,. Să intru fără să mă zgârii în colţii ei. Îmi pun seară de seară capul pe ficatul ei. Seară de seară privesc lumina. Care îi intră prin buric ascult ticăitul de sub capul ei. Şi adorm şi mă trezesc . Mă târăsc cu grijă afară capul înainte. Îmi fac o cafea şi plec la muncă. În spatele meu aud linguriţa din cana de cafea cum.

dianabercu.wordpress.com

Pe noi ne-ai uitat ? |

https://dianabercu.wordpress.com/2009/11/26/pe-noi-ne-ai-uitat

Într-o zi cu toţii îi veţi mânca din palmă Dianei. Pe noi ne-ai uitat? În dimineaţa asta liniile din palma mea erau negre. Şi de sub unghiile mele au ieşit schelete miniaturale. S-au strecurat cu greu. Simţeam înţepături în vârfurile degetelor). Picau cu zgomot pe gresia din baie şi. În loc să se sfarme creşteau creşteau. Începeau să se plimbe prin casă, le auzeam oasele scârţâind. Scârţa scârţa îmi umblau prin sertare. Mi-au răscolit hainele şi mi-au răsfoit toate cărţile. S-au uitat sub pat. Anunță-mă ...

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Michel Martin

Marți, 10 mai 2011. My devotion to separateness. Nobody ever says don’t leave me or stay with me. What they say is I am alone be guilty for my loneliness. Take the hammer of my consciousness and smash it to the bricks. I’ve so carefully aligned to build my house. This house is my devotion to separateness. In my house children grow backwards their hair grows inside their scalps. Their arms grow in their lungs and their hearts grow in their brains. Children of Mary Magdalene. Where the mystic river runs.

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