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Ilya Krivonosov Mar 2019
You were in Africa in June,
When in the head of the from sun skew?
Yeah, like drinking a liter of shampoo
For thin and weakened hair.

And you read young poets,
Trying to make a joke?
Yes, it's like living in the land of Soviets
And all advise far leave to live.
Ilya Krivonosov Mar 2019
It would be doubtful and indecent
Drive pigeons along the boulevards of the capital.
Much nicer on weekends.
To drive along the boulevards of Moscow business.

Even more noble and relevant
Chasing parrots in the living room and bedroom.
And it will be much quieter
Don't croak a hoarse crow.

Quite non-self-critical
Consider yourself a rare bird.
Bring it back, please.,
In Estonia a white stork.
Ilya Krivonosov Mar 2019
Why is it so narrowed pupils?
Why are your eyelids so black?
For what such black socks
So visible on the pale blue body?

What nekoshenom steppes
Dragged these tops?
Whose feet walked on the stones?
And in what stream were you looking for the bottom?

He wore thorns and turnips.
Who told you to walk in the woods?
There were not enough ants in the house.
With your pants on the floor climbed.

Put on some warm socks,
Drink cocoa and turn on the computer.
On the Internet for people like you
I write very much any turbidity.
Ilya Krivonosov Mar 2019
Symmetry of bearing crosses
And couplings, coupling, couplings, coupler, couplers.
Fastening of compression springs
And backlash, backlash, backlash, backlash, backlash.

Pitch and diameter of the intended thread
And chips, chips, chips, chips, chips.
Wire thin spikes
And for fastening ears, ears, ears.

Write poetry, at least write text.
At least write the letters mixed up.
Write at least Previous and Next.
At least write a video on a flash drive.

At least write "alpha in half."
Let everyone understand that alpha is a corner.
Put a banal smiley face on Instagram.
Get to work with Yandex or Googol.
Ilya Krivonosov Mar 2019
In empty the eyes of not udivlenie,
Not cowardice, not vice,
Not to new feats aspiration
And not humility vow.

In the empty eyes of the living plasma,
That state of matter,
Where there is no irony, sarcasm,
But the words are jumbled.

In a separate heap the days of the week
Vibrate one tourniquet.
Behind them are book sections
And rhymes rolled into a coma.

Familiar street names,
Smacking names,
Go policy, slouch.
Behind them is a gray wall.

Of course, there are memories,
Such bright lights,
Where pleasures and sufferings
Go to the station these days.
Ilya Krivonosov Mar 2019
The manner loudly sniff its nose,
The manner quietly respond,
Way of asking questions
And four and five.

When I turned eight,
Got rid of those manners,
Then still a teenager
And in the future engineer.

The habit of staring at ads,
The habit of doing ten things,
Late today, early tomorrow,
Once all as I wanted.
Ilya Krivonosov Mar 2019
Behind a stencil of cloudy glass
Smiles turned into commas,
Motion in complex motion simple,
And dissolve the silhouette of the table.

Flashed meteors fists.
Without them, bayonets were not having a pack.
The situation is complicated, the exercise is simple.
And the sailors ribbons fluttered.

Shoes clacking on the parquet,
Stories fifth, fourth, sixth,
Plates full, then empty again,
And phones hidden calls.
Ilya Krivonosov Mar 2019
My cat is a manual Pithecanthropus,
My cat is like a pterodactyl,
Alien, ecilop,
But he's my friend and a bully.

My cat doesn't believe in miracles,
Tries to stay sideways,
Youth hides the moustache.
And pulls the notes accidentally.

Why try to explain
The artist's stream of consciousness?
We fail to grasp this thread,
Don't guess the random shot.

When emotion stings
Syrup of burning excitement.
When the mermaid swims
In front of the showcase body painting.

When you laugh, yawn, nod
Will disperse flour, boredom, drama.
Break through to the sea stream
From the Urals to the Volga river via Kama.
Ilya Krivonosov Mar 2019
Day I forgot, I forgot a week,
Got the names mixed up.
Parachutes swing,
Worms seeds.

Kilograms of honey agaric,
Compliments the perfume.
So and are written, guys,
Centimeters poems.

What a day, with marked –
No deck, no tablet.
No particular
Goal not was and there is no.

Crowded long box,
But the receipts are empty.
The printer, gasping, drags
Striped sheets.
Ilya Krivonosov Mar 2019
Earthquake, more than five.
It takes luck to get away.
Need the happiest occasion of a moment.
Need a muffled joy cry.

Need an alarm clock, included on six.
Need in pajamas in advance get.
Need inglish make khoumvork.
You need to experience wild delight

From the metal sound of the door,
From electrical shocks inside,
From the purple faces of the fire,
From the strange noise in the morning,

From the grinding of black plates,
From getting wet torn shoes,
From cursing indistinct in the hallway
And geranium, like a rose.
Ilya Krivonosov Mar 2019
Fool, how late did you understand!
As little you just managed!
As all deceptive I mentioned,
And all that is holy failed.

The delight of lying dead load,
Of oppression is not raised.
Having seen a lot of art
Alive from the ashes not rose.

From the stale chaff of grain
You separate, alas, could not.
You confused white with black.,
The folly and vice.

Live. Seek in verses the medicine.
I'm looking for a reagent.
From reagents I build the kingdom.
The kingdom wanders positive.

I'd live in little stables.
I'd eat a little oatmeal.
I would be wild and unnecessary,
But the world is ruled by symbiosis.
Ilya Krivonosov Mar 2019
He left without saying goodbye.
In English, but faster.
So is gone, that, running away,
Knocked the door out of the box.

Entrance door, easy come – easy go,
Quickly beat the crap out and in silence is gone.
Through the wall could also go,
From antennas could basket weave a.

Write four lines.
You want eight?
Want – in the last two lines
Paradox what decide.

You want a couple of paradoxes.
You want three theorems.
Like it or – household issues
Maybe eight or seven.
Ilya Krivonosov Mar 2019
If you stand outside the door – muzzle guns,
If you dial out of the tap – soap bubbles,
If you look to the left – school offices,
If you go right – broken lights.

If you close the curtains – red cockroaches,
If on mezzanine – black spiders,
If an empty flask again to score from a tap,
If empty hands – complete backpacks.
Ilya Krivonosov Mar 2019
Oh, what funny fun!
There's no other fun left.
Tattoo on the right,
Or left under the sleeve.

There's nothing more to hide, is there?
I shouldn't be hiding either, right?
Come on, I can't breathe in here!
Let's go, the store will be closed!
tattoo sleeve
Ilya Krivonosov Mar 2019
Glass, plane,
Dim lights?
My timidity
Crumbled into vinaigrette.

Why money?
Why the wall?
Why circle
The perimeter is not equal?

Why teeth
Fangs down?
Why a cube
The ninth wave hung?
Ilya Krivonosov Mar 2019
The road turned to the side,
Then on the field three turns.
Go forward, throwing his head,
Go and blow on the clouds...

The barn is crooked, her knees shaking.
Why I climbed in such Tyumen?
Such untrodden wasteland,
Such far Anadyrs?

On Monday the devils sing,
I feel sick again.
Sleep and pray, eat or sleep,
But there will be no evil.
Ilya Krivonosov Mar 2019
Sometimes a nod is enough,
Half-mast, half-turn,
Half-squats for jumping,
Half-chin.

Half-elbow,
Nostrils half-inflated,
Half-eyebrows,
Half-red ears.

A half measure will be the gingerbread man,
And the half-empty top volume,
Over water semi-melting
It would be against the law.
Ilya Krivonosov Mar 2019
Hercules did not know any of the drawings,
And poorly studied under in school,
But it was a hopeless poet at heart,
I had lots of dreams about the will.

Only one thing he could not –
In the sky flying like a bird.
But a few feats to make managed
And he can be proud of himself.
Ilya Krivonosov Mar 2019
Was after all life Hi-Fi,
Fate was deep sound.
At the word "rest"
I fell on the ground.

I lay ribs
And wiggled his elbows.
I mentally flew
And remembered all parts.

I make movies.
I don't need a script.
Shakespeare, of course, William.,
But he's a humanitarian.
Ilya Krivonosov Mar 2019
At first the bell rattled,
Then it died.
Combed four lines –
The verse spread.

What's a half verse?
Neither you nor me.
In four folded newspaper –
In half.

Traditions are not respected.
Avant-garde.
On energy drinks wondering.
Long live cynicism.

The old believers overlooked,
Hightech's here.
Digitized watercolors,
Take the check.
Ilya Krivonosov Mar 2019
Do not have a hundred rubles, and have a hundred friends.
Half a friendly hundred
Send me to Broadway as soon as possible,
Take half to the hood.

Correctly the poet said:
"Communication is a luxury."
About yourself live left a trail,
Said backhand.

It seems, the moment imagines –
People will wake.
And neuromental subscriber
Communicate will.
Ilya Krivonosov Mar 2019
Judges are shortsighted now.
After all, the measure of all sounds.
There's no scarier punishment,
Than dead silence.

There is no worse crime,
Than monotonous singing.
There's metal in the voice –
Means more adult became.

Hear the buzz of the drill –
So in the apartment the cracks.
The intercom is ringing –
In the house of a possible shakedown.

Boards creak in the floor –
Nerves are jangling.
The spoon clinked in the saucer –
Everyone's laughing at you.
Ilya Krivonosov Mar 2019
When someone hit me in the face
And was told that I have to drink,
I understand that it is impossible
Healthy loving home.

Well, how to love the Motherland
And soak up her spirit,
When they give you an enema,
And pour ***** in your ear?

What can be sympathy
And nostalgic dreams,
When the same friends
How are you drunk at lunch?
Ilya Krivonosov Mar 2019
Impressive not open spaces,
Crocodiles in the swamp.
Not because the knackers,
I'm tired at work.

White teeth excavator
Clearing the swamp mud,
I would also scare fishermen
Twisting the green back.

I would also splash my tail,
Swimming, diving, kicking.
I would become an african whale
With webbed fins.
Ilya Krivonosov Mar 2019
Truth – this in our life that?
This category luck.
Lie two, united in one
Like, like, half-representation.

Semi-representation of the family
And the semi-secular state.
Those who long lived on Earth,
They say that the truth is drunkenness.
Ilya Krivonosov Mar 2019
When the light will tell the thickness of poems,
When the rain washes the letters,
I will come from ancient times past
A mechanical rusty doll.

On the wall nakalabay a few words.
I even will not be enough.
About the others, gone before, fighters,
The ones that are gone.

It won't be the eternal "punks not dead".
We're not that *****.
We're stuck with corks in our stomachs.,
We're just tin cans.

If someone reads my text on the wall,
The creak this song will.
But there's no difference in footprints.
The prints of the feet of we the people.
Ilya Krivonosov Mar 2019
The hour will return,
Bad things will disappear over the threshold.
Tobacco smoke curls warmer
And more melodic punk rock.

The natives wear sneakers,
Indians make tea.
Democratic mopeds
Mass-stamped China.

He laughs and cries,
It is a parody of singers.
All itching to **** him,
Tease other people's fathers.
Ilya Krivonosov Mar 2019
I was just like that,
And sometimes he loved blindly.
Only in the world to read,
And not to forget all the kisses.

Transit flight will not wait,
The wheel knocking won't tell the time.
Whose turn is it to survive?
Whose turn is it to tease salvation?

The narrator is exhausted.,
He almost whispered.
Reason, the lamp extinguished,
Why something shouted: "Mortal combat!"
Ilya Krivonosov Mar 2019
I write this line –
"The wolf of matera, loner",
I cross myself
And write " goes to friends".

Starting ahead –
"The wolf is not sitting",
Adding a few lines,
It turns out the poem:

"The wolf is not sitting,
Tearing the hair on his chest,
Attaches them to the feet
And he goes to his friends".

The result of such fantasies –
Wolf life is more diverse.
The result of the poem –
Neural network with training.
Ilya Krivonosov Mar 2019
In the motley woodland
Little that'll understand.
In four months
Rye ripens.

From squealing jigsaw
Dust settles.
Four carnations
Nailed to the keel.

Sixteen degrees.
Africa is warmer.
Sixteen erasers.
Darker hair.

In a freshwater lake
Usual trout.
In the March of the bulldozer
April is heard.
Ilya Krivonosov Mar 2019
Spots red rowan,
Wedges of trees on the edge,
The smoke of a fire, tire tracks,
Cheesecakes and pigs.

Impassable bushes,
Leaves discarded armfuls,
Birch bark curls,
Bolsters hats.

Poaching posts,
Field fences,
Wooden bridge,
Narrow glades corridors.
Ilya Krivonosov Mar 2019
Wait, take any poses,
Record the celebration,
Solve, envy, this threat,
Take it by the throat, frown.

Stay ahead of any gossip,
Endure wishlist big mouths,
As if this day is the last,
It's like he's already nobody's.

Don't hesitate too long,
Leave tomorrow on someone's nonsense,
Get tired, pretend, get even,
I understand where the "yes", I understand where the "no".
Ilya Krivonosov Mar 2019
At the writer's congress at the round table
Discussed the beautiful life over the hill.
At the parent's school meeting
Germany was discussed specifically.

In the office of the director
The Caymans and Burma were discussed.
At bus stops
Discussed port wine and pepper *****.
Ilya Krivonosov Mar 2019
Paper endures everything – it is not silk.
A piece of paper in an envelope with a poem on it.
Diligent, handwritten,
Keeping simple thoughts.

Fourteen lines about the city,
Fourteen points back and forth.
Fourteen lines about ships,
Dashes, commas, crosses, zeros.
Ilya Krivonosov Mar 2019
All your explanations are naive and out of place,
You're trying to persuade me in vain.
When I tell you we can't be together,
Why would you tell me they want to **** you?

Why no explanation for this behavior
Won't you read me some of your poems?
In response to the proposal to remain silent until you're blue
You'll tell me all of a sudden, so many unnecessary words.

For the crazy bunch of the usual promises
You will not explain to me the bottomless blue.
You will distort the meaning and spirit of naive predictions.
I'm right now too, my friend, and you're always right.
Ilya Krivonosov Mar 2019
Sun, swallows, brunettes,
Annoying motive.
Boys on stools
Radiate positive.

Someone seated, someone standing,
Someone lying belly –
Boys on stools
Control the whole house.

Everyone who comes here,
Recalls kindergarten –
Boys on stools
With Cheburashka sit.

Personal security
Cheburashka not need a –
Boys on stools
Respects the whole country.
Ilya Krivonosov Mar 2019
Scumbag like me,
In the circumstances proposed,
Would do for a start
A lousy betrayal.

Shyly silent,
Crafty turn away,
Prudent to wait,
A contemptuous smirk.

Blush at a loss,
Suppressed shyness,
Confident look,
Try to overdo it.
Ilya Krivonosov Mar 2019
The President closed the post in Vologda.
There's one phone in the whole city.
On the big doors of the clinic
Boards are stuck in the fifties.

From the open windows of the hotel
The birthday girl screams.
In the shops near the station
Run by the Turks with the Vietnamese.

The traffic light hasn't worked for a while.
On him gloves clap.
Passing horse and cart.
The machine gun is under the birch.

Whether festive, or everyday,
I made my way between them.
Antifreeze, tangerine
The lantern was green and crimson.
Ilya Krivonosov Mar 2019
Do you remember the night of September?
How I ran desperately through the garden?
It's dark and wait anymore,
And I fled, sensing freedom.

I saw bonfires burning in the distance.
I heard birds singing in the trees.
To stay? Wait? Turn to river?
To listen? Stop again?

Trample those who slowly fled, flew.
Shuffle and rake in an armful.
They will arrange an unscheduled execution.
They will remain on the empty sneakers.
Ilya Krivonosov Mar 2019
April, hangover, vitamin deficiency.
Crows circulate in space.
Here is will May – then the other question,
Then you will want foliage and constancy.

Want in the lilac garden
Lie with your feet on the stand,
Cook on the fire yourself food
And sew itself to June tank top.

On June's swift night
Want to sleep already with the dawn,
Want to overcome fatigue
And give yourself a second summer.
Ilya Krivonosov Mar 2019
Success is an illusion,
Luck – brad.
Lived in the hot Georgia
Sullen Swede.

Afraid of the sun,
Sat in the shadows.
Cut on a log
The tick-days.

In a secluded green
Honey pears
Dreamed of mold,
Sought in the wilderness.

Shells piled
In a big bag.
Crossword puzzle solving
And sang rhyme.
Tip
Ilya Krivonosov Mar 2019
Tip
Easy to give useful tips
Someone who doesn't do the estimates himself.
It's easy to scold grumpy poets
Someone who can't find the words.

When you write a letter to your beloved lady,
I would advise you to write poetry.
I would advise you to eat halva,
But you're sick on both heads.

What artist can be given advice?
Don't leave a gun in the dressing room.
What advice is good for a deputy?
Do not raise public sector wages.

Advice for a buyer –
Don't come to the store without money.
The pickpocket kind of two tips:
Grab the bills, leave the coins.

The diver will appreciate the wish –
Dive where the habitat is.
Hint to all freeloaders in the final –
Read the classics in the original.
Ilya Krivonosov Mar 2019
My body seems to be destroyed.
Cataclysms tore the flesh.
Survival logic is broken,
I can't crack a log.

I can't use an aspen pole.
Prop up the rotting attic.
And from juniper basket
I can't build anything.

I can't use a twig bundle.
Melt the grate fireplace.
And count in French Spanish
I can't for no apparent reason.
Ilya Krivonosov Mar 2019
I remember every detail:
Blinding light piercing the air,
The movement of your shoulders,
Silence,.. and the word "late"..

From the dissolved window,
Pulsing with Easter sound.
Then I don't remember ****,
Something else about separation.

That day I remember as now.
She's still around the corner,
And I go, and every step
Shorter and similar to a note.
Ilya Krivonosov Mar 2019
I woke up with a strange feeling
Monotonous life and struggle.
Circled eyes contour chandeliers
And mount it to the bracket.

Asked parents whims
And blackened over each comma.
Puppeteer juggling surprises
On an unpredictable curve.

In anticipation of the obvious functions
The way of life is sluggish and stupid.
Instead of metal structures
Exhibitor of violent weeds.

A series of senseless actions
Comes to life in the mirror an ape.
Logic of square lanes
The bolt snaps into the door frame.
Ilya Krivonosov Mar 2019
Between the trees wild moans.
Are they vultures or crows?
Or other hungry birds
Will be over the forest, bawling, to spin?

Eniki-Beniki, video training.
Forests of dense shillings-pfenings.
Waiting for that once uhnet owl.
Boring without numbers, cuckoo is right.

Spit on everything and buy an Airbus.
To fly low, causing the globe.
To hear how the lilies of the valley are drinking CO2.
Dream about Earthlings at home grass.
Ilya Krivonosov Mar 2019
Corner vegetable store. On the candy corner.
For cooking immediately. Winter night in the wind.
In laced shoes. In an unbuttoned coat.
With a backpack. Face in snowflakes. Resting his fingers in the bottom.

— The End —