The conversation in a bus
Commenced thus:
The silence hung above the ground,
Encompassing all everything around
With muteness of a world;
And not one word
Was uttered in vicinities of life
That ceased to be in an eternal strife
And finally declared was peace,
When something was so thoroughly amiss
Amid turmoil of precipice of hell
Where the most abject creatures used to dwell,
For there was nothing in that vacuousness of chasm,
As if within the man after ******
Was nothing there, within, without,
Nor along the fissure; no, no doubt,
‘Tis something was indeed so very strange
What to the utmost point of stretching range
Was seen no sain a person, nor deranged,
Nor hollow men, nor locked up in a cage
And only one array of words
reverberates through chain of poles:
“We are the men of no land
Who dwell in no men’s land
We’d like to free our hands
To make this torture end”

Without a cup of tea with lemon I
Wouldn’t even dare in conscious fair to try
To roam throughout the day and Be
a very gay and pleasant company
Without fragrance this and hue or shade
Of lemon cake located on the plate

It is like in a certain room to be
Alone, no windows and not even
A door;
And so you sit or even lie
There prone,
And the darkness emits
So strange an odor
Which is too hard to scorn but neither to adore;
And all you see is an unfathomable
Darkness
Which nonetheless does shine
And shimmer with all its dark brightness;
So bright it could blind you; but if you are
Blinded by darkness then could you regain
Your sight by
Shiness?

Facing me with empty gaze,
Gazing into dim-lit space,
Spacing out till brake of dawn
will brake the night and welcome morn

Walking in the freezing air,
Chillness crippling through my hair,
Goosebumps waddling on my spine,
But nonetheless something divine
Pervades the ever frosty world
When moon as yet may be behold
Soaring in the starry sky
But waning under lullaby
Of Phoebus, while with easy pace
He regains his rightful place;
And by the warble of the birds
Your heart from ennui emerges

There was a great man from Fargo,
Who once lost his most precious cargo.
It was inherent vice
Of most uncommon price
But it turned out he just failed to send it

If I had a quill, I would take it,
But since it’s a different time,
I pick up a phone and starts typing,
Penning another one rhyme

I wish I had a wish
When a shooting star
So rapid and so childish
Glides through the regions far

I met him standing
In the middle of the lane, awaiting
For some silhouettes, apparently,
For he
Was gazing through the haze
Enveloping the ground of this intricate maze,
Amidst eternities of both
The one behind us and the one of forth
Acquaintance; peevishly there hotching
On his place, like pole earthshaking
Though with not a-lack of grace
This little figure strangèly reminded
Of my own wraiths I thought was far behind me; but never did they leave my soul’s abode,
No matter whether home I or abroad
I always carry them like plummet on a chain
With which all a-way down and down upcoming drowner fane,
Just like pale moon is setting to its further sleep
The same way future drowner does complete
The full life circle of eternal plan,
The one which you could not outran
In vacuous attempt to fool the time
In game that has been riggéd before thine
Name and surname were inscribed in list
Of papyrus and lost in spaceless mist

It is a fact well known
That a snowflake In its pure and perfect form
Never resembles her near-falling sister
While all of them create a shimmering glisten,
As if of a dew-strewn meadow, but in the sky;
Hushing up the resounding far distant cry

It is good an exercise to write about what
Did happen to you during the course of
One day; so let me begin with something
Like this; I don’t like to cut my hair; no
Not like that; I don’t like my hair being cut
By someone; can’t really say why; I just
Don’t; there is no pain about it or a
Tragedy in it, you know; I don’t impersonate
Them and imagine the after-battle field
Strewn with thin prolonged bodies; agony
And fear of despair in their postures; no
Nothing like that; nor do I fell any remorse
About being almost bald; I don’t really
Much care about my outer look; I just
Want not to look as a complete freak;
To look just fine, that is all what I ask for;
And I hold no grudge against my
Hairdresser; I changed three of them
So far; not because they were bad;
No; they are Professionals; it’s just
Happened like that; circumstances;
I don’t look at myself in the mirror
During this process; never analyzed it;
Saw no point; that is something inner
Prolly; Freudian stuff; this ******* is
Everywhere, you know; can’t say one
Word in the circle of the shrinks without
Being labeled with some unrighteous
Deviation (“as if there are righteous” my
Bruh sez in the furthest angle with a cup
Of cigarette ash); so I don’t look at myself;
Nor at my feet or my fallen hairs strewn
All around and on my feet; I look at the
Wall and through it to the very core of the
Earth; and there I see flame; but flame is
White; and it is not right

I write this to get your attention,
This piece doesn’t convey any meaning
Whatsoever; this one is just for your love;
For sometimes I need this; just as you are
In need of love and
Hahahhah
Attention
Oh my
It’s hard not to laugh at the view of a
Space expanding ever
Oh sh f it s hard to strain oneself
Yourself
Myself
From
Ohhhhh haha haha
Oh you can’t
Thou canst not even picture it
O my head so a jumble man
Yo bruh sez myman how come you are so high so low so late time eh
Oh it bothers you you little sh
Come here and I ******>The broken glass and spilled kvas
I was just a child that time
The splinters in my ankles and thighs
It hurts all the same
O
Right
I forgot what it was all about
Never mind
Happy new cycle
Piece **** pls

At the bottom of the ocean
It is so quiet, there is no motion
You to disturb, it’s so serene
Amidst the corals red and green;
Can’t see no light,nor one you need,
For to the herds of water steeds
The light is nothing but a snare,
And so are you should be beware
While treading bottom of the earth,
Where of the fuss is such a dearth,
Bur what a pleasure ‘tis, indeed,
To be devoid of vicious greed
Of those who tread the the earth above
Knowing naught of Earth’s true love

Howling wind and hurling snow,
Moaning of the world unknown,
Of the mysteries uncertain
Hiding under snowy curtain

Spinning twirling all around,
People lifting off the ground
With the promise of adventure
If you’ll dare beyond to venture

Whirlwind with a stormy gale
Blow with promise of a tale
Of a very distant land,
With avid ear to this attend
If you will dare, then hail, my friend
The place where you your life will spend

I used to flank my PE lessons;
It’s bad, I know; there is no blessing,
No pray, no psalm for such a sin
And all the accusations merged in din
Of rasping metal grinding of a board
Which surface’s being mangle with a chalk;
Shall I this sound recall, and, Lord, oh my;
I’m almost ready all my principles belie
And drop upon my knees in front of a Coach,
For him to smack me as a wretched roach
And all my intestines present
And drop them as a ******* on cement
For all the varmints of a world
The death of their own kin behold;
For them to be Edification
Of all the truancy’s damnation

O verily how hard it is sometimes
The proper words of beautiness to find
‘Texpress that what is gnarling on your heart
Threatening to tear it ‘way apart
If being able not from inner chest
To fetch the words th’ occasion fitting best
For burden this is oft of too much weight
To let you easily aspire to th’ utmost height
And soar there fretting not about the sun
To melt you waxen wings; o there is none
From brethren of mine who wouldn’t mind
To spend a day or two in aimless grind
With nothing to express or on his soul
Swelling and reclaiming form or mould
To ready be at once to be dispatched
And to rebirth upon a paper’s batch
‘Tis better not to live then, nor indeed
To squander your potential on vile screed

Bestow on me the gift of inspiration
For me to then describe that strange sensation
That I begin to feel when upward stare
And notice halo of thy misty claire;
By cloud hidden or amidst the stars
Devoid of all the lattices and bars
And still to yet remain in one same place:
The paragon of elegance and grace.
O ‘tis indeed too hard a task to count
How many people on this rigid ground
By light of yours you did imbue to praise
Thy silver sheen pervading misty haze
Near tides what then again by your command
Assault so ever un-preparèd land;
Or when there is no gust or nor a gale,
And when the peace instead of storm prevails
To all the lost and poor forgotten souls
‘Temerge from theirs decrepit, squalid holes
And to begin their marching peaceful raid
To your abode by silvering moon-glade
For if ‘tis not the final path to heaven
Then never I’d prefer to be forgiven

I am Destroyer of the World,
I am the Death itself, behold
My deeds and dread ye, common mortals,
While looking at you all I chortle
In disdain, contempt and  scorn
And with the teeth of ye adorn
my ******-crimson garment I
While to your children lullaby
You, Mother, sing
to lull them to their sleep
At night, o night, o night  the very last,
And matters not how hard you grasp
The last of threads of the world’s canvas,
But End is nigh of yours, alas;
So clench your hands in your last prayer
As fractures of the world last layer

At the skirts of the town on the hill near the copse where the trailer wide park situated then was whence they drive her in conscious though deprivèd of any ability to move or to scream or to even f moan whence they drive her snickering drooling high no need e’en for ropes or twines she just lies still and demure and obedient without even a drop of tear to gutter down her cheek to moist her flaky skin all dry within but without perspire to she can tho’ you know so they pulled up lights off keys in the pocket they look and they smile and they fawn on her while she lies there alone by herself and no one around nor to help nor to try so they leave and they close and they go and they open and drag on the gravel they throw and with hands on the belts they above and they brood and impend like the vultures that hover above the sight of their prey putrefying and they down and they stretch and Stay that right yess oh thats just perfectly fine stretch them nice pull then no tear those off and up whereas she looks into the sky on the moon so shiny and pale gal and bright and so chaste so unlike to oh she just stares while they’re doing their so very so distant business

Do you remember that time,
That magnificent time, when together we
Were on the beach, you and I;
We were lying and smiling and playing
Whereas
Little crickets were singing their songs in
The grass;
Little children were fidgeting with their little things
Looking just like the cherubs without their
Wings;
And the days were so warm, and the sun
That did shine,
And the sound of the waves; and the gulls
‘Bove the brine;
It was long time ago,
Lot of things to and fro
Had gone by
Since that time
Where were just you and I;
I Believing that mine
You will be forever;
But now standing here with so, with so
Misty a
Weather,
And holding so tightly, so tightly a feather
That to me as a present
You gave me, you gave me so long time ago
And here just  I am, and your grave, and the crow

Another ***** ******* believe he can in rap,
Writing as convoluting lines as rivers on the map,
About white oppression, ebony *******,
Or is it vice versa? Oh, and don’t forget the cursing;
But I can’t, I simply can’t stand for my land
Or fend for myself
Without a hand of a true friend
Imma man, without a gun in his hand
So when they knocking at my door
all I can is scream « **** »;
So everything what’s left to me is to blend
Till my ascension, where will be no aggravation,
Hesitation, ‘bout whether it’s right or wrong to be against your nation
If you see her burning to the smold’ring ashes?

I drained all inspiration from this world
And see no more a point to this life hold

O brave new world,
You wait for me,
Lest in this one forever all we be
(Running on the waves, S. N.)

There is no future and no past,
Only present moment;
And forever does he last
Without letting you to pass
‘Teternity’s abdomen

First it hits - then there’s a blast
It is so simple man
Perhaps
But when you come to think of it
You dread
For how you could
But well
You know
You wouldn’t know
That’s all
That’s how it is
How Was and will
And ****** be ye if not feel chill
For it is scary
Just you think
You live and die in just a blink

Every morning, every day
All around me is gray;
Don’t know how to live today
Maybe I need more to pray,
Lest I am become too fey
To live my life without strife,
To have no thing from world to hide
To care ‘bout something but my hide,
A stupid pun without fun,
I know and could not care no more less
Cause I do need to shed that stress
That’s been weighing on my back
But no one can take me aback
For as a-free I’m as a bird
And Not afraid now to be heard
It sounds corny, simple, low
But all above is just a flow

God exists, this one I know for sure,
And though to some ‘tis may sound to obscure,
The evidence beheld I of his style
Though ‘tisn’t
too easy to express; just listen:
I was waiting for my friend,
We at the moment did intend
To go and do some exercise
At somewhere’s gym; but never mind;
And so was standing I, awaiting,
Amidst the square donned with the snow;
It crunched and crackled at my step,
The birds with wings above me flapped,
Some children bumping to each other,
Aside - theirs smiling mothers, fathers,
Some riding horses, big and little,
Of peddler’s goods the cheery brittle;
And just behind the row of birch
Emerged Of Holy Father Church;
This not my job to you describe
The Beauty of this fairest sight,
But ‘twas the good, the solemn site
Of modesty; and sheer delight
Derived the every one by-watcher
Who had a fleeting chance to watch her;
And so was I as mesmerized
As filled with ever-baffling fright
What one within so often may
Carry throughout the whole long day;
But wait and hark, for ‘tis important, just when the bell began to chime,
Converging everything, the time,
The place, the sight, the proper moment,
As if of something Greater token,
From sky so high above me then
The snow to fall from there began;
And was so tranquil that a scene,
That drove away my inner spleen,  
That I became with thought conceived
That some Great True was t’me revealed

I am a man
I am a human being
I am an animal
I am within myself myself
I am the one that cannot be everywhere
I am a dancer on the tightrope
I am an infant
I am a child
I am a creator of all things
I am a writer
I am a poet
I am a scoundrel
I am a fraud
I am a swindler
I am a swine
I am a partner
I am en entity
I am the space
I am the liar
I am a man that sometimes cannot take it
I am a hallow man
I am a ball suspended on a chain
I am a denizen of the world
I am a zealot
I am a hater
I am an envious seraphim
I am a revelation
I am an atonement
I am a perdition of this world
I am this world
I am all of it
I am nothing at all
I am the Essenes of this soul
I am the pale king
I am myself my kingdom and my throne
I am myself my life
I am the one that cannot be forgotten
I am the one that cannot be forgiven
I am the one by every other hated
I am the one by every other loved
I am a son
I am to be a begetter
I am to be the salt of the earth
I am to be an angel in the heaven
I am to be the devil in the hell
I am the fallen
I am the arisen
I am the one that chainéd to the rock
I am the one who’s lover being plucked
I am a no one

I am afraid I’d die of dehydration,
So to subdue this wild agitation
Before myself t’ embrace of bed to throw
Wearily I to the kitchen go
And pour myself a glass of cold fresh water,
And every gulp succeeding is well shorter
Whereas the last of drops on my tongue sip
And of a loaf of bread I take a tiny nip
And then with inner peace within at last
I do commit myself to night’s so tender grasp

I know what you want,
But I refuse you to give it
It was never my wont
To comfort with this base ****

Being jammed in a tram,
What a shame and how lame
To be frailed in a train, to be tame
By a dame (of a size not a fey)
To be blame for a stay on a place for a maimed;
To see flame on a tray from the lights
Speeding by in a frame of a window
As if speeding through a limbo
With a gradus beyond zero
‘Stead of it lie on a pillow
Or being deadly on a billow
Amidst th’ infinity of eon

To everyone is known
this special state of mind,
When no sleep dons upon you,
No matter how you try,
No slumber is bestowed on,
No reveries to find
In numberless attempts
To sandman’s coach descry

You tumble and you wamble
Upon you untucked bed,
You counting all the mammals
What’s known on earth to dwell
You’re changing disposition
Of your unresting head
While something does inside you
Begin in size to swell

When blanket is too hot now,
Without it - to cold
And nothing is in order
Amidst your swarming thoughts,
When everything you ponder
On is slipping of its hold,
When every link of system
Untying  of its knot

When there’s no salvation
To this horrendous plight
And everything on earth to you
Is not at all all-right
When ‘tseems to be no ending
To this enduring night
One wink and Oh... tremendous;
Behold a new daylight

I remember my own Conceiving,
Stridulation of a loosen springs
Of jalopy parked somewhere in the rear
Of an upper level of a parking on the
Skirts of town forgotten by me but
Remembrance still is vivid as if I am
Creeping on my four to to the shaking
Out of tune a little vehicle with lights out
Both rear and front and litters of used Condoms with ***** filling and leaking
From its rubber carcass and butts Smothered though some flickering still
In the darkness of night on the skirt of
The forgotten town where misty and Panting glass was to and fro to and fro
Up and down and sidewise with a chance
Limb or feet splattered against sideways Windows leaving a print of sole with
All its interlaces and wrinkles and crinkles
And toes with torn flannel out of passion
Or just lost on the skirts of the town
Forgotten by Everyone but me where I am standing
Watching my own conceiving by monster
Of a doubled backs back in the car in the
Town where lights of out but reek was
There as if inherent in the very concrete
And all blocks and bricks and levels and
Tiers and I remember there my own
Conceiving as I was standing there on my
Own four and creeping up to swaying Lizzie and getting on my hind double
And approaching the panted and misty
Window with my both eyes reflecting
And glancing back at me at which a
Moment ever I arise with sweat
A-dripping down my temples and back
And cheeks and arms and breast
And wall in front of me in the dark
Town forgotten by everyone but me in the
Car where I remember was my own
Conceiving

Last curtain call, to pay
last passage toll; to cross the side;
to take a ride; the future is behind us,
for we can't see it; the past is right in
front of us, for we can see it clearly;
so every step we take may be our last;
but we just want it to be fast; "Make it
Fast", they usually say; but why; we are
Afraid to cross that bridge and pay that
Toll; for we are afraid of that what awaits and
Entices us there; so we ever falter at that moment
Of transition; and never will stop;
For that mystery curtained did always baffle us
And always will

What is the memory but a motley quilt,
With patches stitched together,
But some detached from there as if Inappropriate
To the purpose of alleviating in the period
Of grief and sorrow, which are so often
Cause a day to be a hue darker than it is,
The people to be meaner than they are
And events to go not in the way they
Ostensibly  
Are supposed to go;
To leave only warm colors suffused with
Fragrance of a mead, the ripple of a brook,
The rustling of a fallen foliage would be
Perfect; yeah, for sure, but to remember
Darker relict of the days of yore
Sometimes is far more better than
Be in the pinky glasses of a false perception;
To see not only in the black or white
But in the gray and green and red and
Purple
To see the life in its full spectrum of a
Motley quilt to warm on freezing
Days or to emit the tears to facilitate
The soul’s ordeal to thereafter meet
The day with shiny watery eyes and
Unburden as if a weightless heart

Down and down I go this aisle with cart Oh hi man how are you? I’m fine that’s ‘ight and you I’m good thx yeah for me there someth? Oh yeah this here and this one pink envelope? well that’s from you know oh yes that’s one well fine okay have a good day yeah bye and off I go again for me? Yeah this I do not like him I try to keep him off my sight and mind but smile nice shirt oh yeah? just ironed well bye-bye pretentious ***** and phony also this is **** I should of said that next time sure for sure ensure the screech is pleasant to lubricate forgot après this finished howdy-rowdy for me smth no pardon c’est fine go by there’s really nothing poor old creep for him man’ years he here and not one sheet that’s triste but oh again this cramp should aim for loo ma’am après vous those thighs in nylon wiggle-waggle just like Bloom I am that day today but winter tho’ though onward batches envelopes and stamps hiya my mate how miles per day come forth that’s heyyy that is the one I yeahyeahyeah dumbf nonono he’s just like I like you like me obnoxious clown to grab and off this floor should be enough to from this height his gray to smash to mash this one is fine to smash to mash oh yuck this almost got me shhhhh
I
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20
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Thump

The lurid shining of the monitor
Is overshadowed by a neon signboard
Overboard of my apartment, piercing
Through the ever mist; emitting rays of
Purple, red and blue; as if the meteor
From outer space had fallen near me;
And standing with cup of steaming coffee
Me something gives and other times Bereaves
Of piece or angst or misery, despair
It is depending of the mood, you know

Night, drugstore, the street, the lantern,
The meaningless and pallid light,
May you live some years hereafter,
All be the same, no ‘scape from blight

You die - commence another potter,
And everything the same alright:
The chilling ripple of the water,
The Street ,the drugstore, lantern, night

I remember swaying on the verge
Of dark and light, before and after, to and fro
Whence to the world of forms I was conveyed
To suffer just as any other human being,
Within this futile form, confined to bear
The sin of our fathers’ fathers and so forth that stems
From the first couple of the world, banished from Eden,
Seduced by vicious serpent and condemned to toil, and bear
And multiply; and so through ages was it in the progress
To finally conclude in my true self; for I remember light,
And cold, and pain and darkness; the metal cling,
Sterility of white; but then before my inner eye is cradle,
I lying there myself with strangest sense of missing,
Of lacking something too important to express…
Oh, yes, that was the point: I am unable at the moment
To express my swarming thoughts… or rather figures;
Or maybe even outlines of perfect things; and from
The misery, despair and sorrow I try to do my best,
But only peal or rather shriek is able to emit from breast
Of mine; O Lost, O Ghost, in this world all alone
That for eternal wandering is doomed to travel from one Eternity
Into another; and then again, again, again and one more time;
For the machine for ever is in working, and all the clogs
Are always greased and oiled; and there is no way to break the circle,
Or just escape, to be no slave for torture, to walk and see no time,
To sense not the rotation of the earth, or in the utter self-esteem
To deemed yourself the mover of the planet, that just because
Of you is possible the progress
Through space and time too vast
For us to comprehend the wholeness of the Chaos; for chaos this
Still is for sure, indeed; and how in our conceit can we so be deluded
As to believe ourselves the bearers of the knowledge
Pertaining to the mysteries of life; O Lost, imagine now you can
The first my feelings as a boarder of this stage; for sure I am, as
Spirt is immortal, that dusk is but beginning of the dawn.