about me with a wink
...here grass waves on the meadows..People rush somewhere along the street in loudless manner.City roads crossed with asphalt paths.....black cat in the bushes scared birds wen the cook was taking rubbish out Their humming is full of fear becasue of pain and full of happiness that can be used only at moment's notice.At home doors shut themselves one by one pushed by the blast of cool summer wind flying through empty corridors.There is old picture swinging on the wall and red rose petal falling down from the vase on the table.Country man's cart is leaving straw on the hedges..And I see all of these each time i pass sthe mirror on the landing .I have this little one mirror on the stairs..cutting our heads;)I will give image to everyhting I dislike and bury it deeply underground.I see white fields of daisies and dresses and tennis courts crossed with white lines.Flowers shake their heads behind the window..I see wild birds...and from my wild heart impulses flow..wilderthan the wildest birds are.Flowers are shaking..birds singing and ther eis a monster waking along the seaside..in gold chains..One night..there was strong wind and sudden thunder...there wasa star sailing through the clouds and I said to her : ''Absorb me please''
Winds and storms coloured one month.and puddle appeared on our courtyard....she was laying..terrible cadaverously-grey puddle and I was holding a message in envelope...Came up to the puddle.and couldn't overcome the obstacle.I lost my own identity.''We are nothing''I said and I fell down.I was blown off like a feather and liften through tunnels.Then carefully stepped and supported by red bricked wall I pushed myself back into the body with difficulty.Disembodied and free Ia m flying over the fields seeing..man fishing.tower...country lane and all is unreal and foggy.Ther eis no place in my mind for hatred or grudge ..Ia m just ephemeral pedestrian whose mind has been overpowered by dreams and garden noises.Early morning..when the flower's petals are swimming through unmeasured depths and birds are singing..I sprinkle myself with bright waters of my childhood.It is hard not to cry when we sing ..when we call ourselves little children..and ask God for care when we sleep..when we are sad we shiver with fear ..it is pleasant to sing together holding each other's hands...same time being afraid of so many things .We run up upstairs like pony..one bu one in order to take place in a queue to bathroom..bouncing on our white hard legs..screaming ..NOW IT IS MY TURN!!!! no ..now me going!!!!lol I am sitting on the path and swinging petals in the brownish bowl.All my ships are white.I don't wanna red petals of mallow or geranium.I wish to have just white which float on the water when i tilt the bowl.I have now already all fleet sailing from one river bank to the other.I am throwing there a twig-will be like a raft for drawning man.I am throwing a pebble to see some bubbles rising from the depth of the sea.I have the moment only for myself..moment of freedom..I take all fallen petals and let them float all on the water.I pour down water drops on some...and rght there I wil place lighthouse.Then Ia m swinging the bowl..so that ships may rip the waves.Some will sink...Some will crash into the rocks..one ship is sailing alone-my ship.It sails into fozen cave..there is sea-bear roaring and green chains of stalactites are swinging.
We are laying under the black currant bushes..Each blow of wind covers our body from toes to heads..My hand is like the skin of a snake..my knees are like pink islands soaked in the water..your face is behind the apple tree net.There are black wings of leaves above us..You have a twin in the hair..You have a green caterpillar on your neck...Snail's home is visible in the grass like a dome ..Bird is diving his beak in the soft bodyof a worm..Now we are safe..we can get straight again...stretch out our arms under this huge dome of the forest...I can not hear anyhting apart from the sound of wild dove flying in the air .over the beech on his wooden wings.Now you are escaping again..going up like baloon's string...
I am shaping balls from bread and call them people...Wherever we go things are changing under the glance of our sight..byt when we leave it al behind ..aren't are same again?Ther eis some kind of mystery that surrounds peoplewhen they are moving away from us.Ia m taking lemon sponge and soak it in the water..it became chocolat eincolour Holding it high and squeezing in my palm.water is pouring down through the gutter of my spine.My body cold..wet and shining...wrapped up in warm towels...When I dry my back ..the roughness of the towel makes the blood around the ribs purr.
I stretch out my toes till I can touch the rods on the other side of my bed...touching them I make sure about constant staff existing next to us.Finally my thoughts may pour out fro m my mind..free from upsetting collisions I am sailing alone under the white rocks.
Not touched with any oar..the lake of my mind is waving mildly and after a moment is diving into oil sleepiness.
Someone has raised hand up to his neck...due to such unexpected actions..human beings fall in eternal love.
Each evening i tear out the card from calendar..smash it is my fist..this way I take vengeance oh the image of passing school day.
Blood that crushes my ribs must be light-red and foamed.I feel this pinching in my feet..Behind my eyes everyhting is dancing...net..grass...faces..more convulsively like butterflies...and trees seem to be jumping up and down.There is nothing constant..nothing moving in the universe..Everything is waving and going round..Everything is velocity and victory but when I am laying on this hard ground I start to feel a kind of need...that someone will come here and find me ..someone attracted by anonymous impulse inside of me,,someone who can not live far away without me..then we will move to some kind of solitary place and talk together by the tongue of eyes.Now the flush ..the rise is decreasing and trees comes down back ..on the earth...and I may go for tea;) I am dreaming of fireplace and fire shelter and closeness..and I am dreaming of night to come .''people who are upset are just sunsets-lovers''....At night Ia m a friend of Wergiliusz and Platon.
These were handicaped days just like moths with burnt wings unable to fly.....But through all these summers and winters somehting arose inside of me..in houses.staircases....I do not wanna all thes epeople staring at me with admiration when Ia m leaving..I wish to give...and have something back and I wish my solitude in where I may cherish all my precious memories.I flutter like pyjama on the wind even while my teeth are crushing sandwich with butter and I'm drinking sweet milk.Then I will be back ...I will be coming back home along the trambling avenues under the domes of hazels..Passing old lady who is pushing baby's pram filled with dry twigs...and i wil be passing a shepard..but we will not say even a word just have an exchange of smile.I will go back and see curved leaves of lettuce sprinkled with dew drops..and blind house..with covered windows.And I will be back in my old same room .open the wardrobe and touch all staff...sea shells..and postcards with all memories preserved ;bewitched belongings. I will feed the pigeons and squirrel and I will go to the shelter and comb the spaniel.The introduction has taken its place.and the world has been performed..I will be back home soon.
I am now and here...with my elbow supported on the window-sill..ther eis a cat sleeping in a bucket ..2 men and 3 women..we are getting closer and run away with each second.,,running through the fields of golden wheat.This life...life has appeared fro m the sea l..life holding long dark fringe..we are attached to that like bodies to wild horses.Someone is getting on a train...I do not believe in isolation..I try to get to know new one in the department but instinctively his presence is annoying me.We are not separeted creatures.I wish to increase my collection of precious observations concerning the nature of human behaviour.I fulfill my mind and thoughts with all Ia m surrounded with.Our loneliness wears the marks of fractures...
Human voice can be so DISARMING...I need a kind of concrete in everything..only this way I may getin touvh with the world..the best things are createdin loneliness..theyneed final freezing...it can not happen in affectionate soluble words...Necessity is resting in my mind freely..like a button or old coin...
Mil old man is picking up old tickets..someone talks about the nature of human destiny..someone lost the ticket..standing on the platform is waving his hands ...the train went without him..
When Ia m leaving the room where people talk...I hear only my steps.I see the moon going up in all his indifference and majesty..people say Ia m elusive...they do not know they should get used to changes and huard all entry and exits..to their life..Ther eare here some people that make good impression on me..I call them ''creatures who know how to achieve balance in the middle of the river'' ( and immediately in my imagination I see fishes with their mouth in one direction and and opposite current of the river)We are all like fish in the middle of the river.When I enter the room..switch on the light..I feel Ia m one of these full of fantasy impudent..able to reflection human..and I grab the fountain pen and write .write a letter ..that I have to start all the time again and again from the beginning...but still with same eagerness and pleasure.What I need is the speed...sentences coming one by one.like avalanche . I need Byron to dive into perfect mood.
It was perfect day..Beats that gathered under the dome of my soul are colourful and perfectly round...I like glimpsing through other people's arms...all the time somehting new jumps into my head.Nothing should be named ..naming..we change it unconsciously..let everyhtingbe soaked in a delight and joy..this beauty..this sea shore ..this me..I tis hot now...ships are sailing through red ..through green..and in the backgroud there is a bell audible...but not for death..There are bells bringing life..leaf is falling down from happiness..Ach...I AM IN LOVE WITH LIFE.....And I will be home soon
Winds and storms coloured one month.and puddle appeared on our courtyard....she was laying..terrible cadaverously-grey puddle and I was holding a message in envelope...Came up to the puddle.and couldn't overcome the obstacle.I lost my own identity.''We are nothing''I said and I fell down.I was blown off like a feather and liften through tunnels.Then carefully stepped and supported by red bricked wall I pushed myself back into the body with difficulty.Disembodied and free Ia m flying over the fields seeing..man fishing.tower...country lane and all is unreal and foggy.Ther eis no place in my mind for hatred or grudge ..Ia m just ephemeral pedestrian whose mind has been overpowered by dreams and garden noises.Early morning..when the flower's petals are swimming through unmeasured depths and birds are singing..I sprinkle myself with bright waters of my childhood.It is hard not to cry when we sing ..when we call ourselves little children..and ask God for care when we sleep..when we are sad we shiver with fear ..it is pleasant to sing together holding each other's hands...same time being afraid of so many things .We run up upstairs like pony..one bu one in order to take place in a queue to bathroom..bouncing on our white hard legs..screaming ..NOW IT IS MY TURN!!!! no ..now me going!!!!lol I am sitting on the path and swinging petals in the brownish bowl.All my ships are white.I don't wanna red petals of mallow or geranium.I wish to have just white which float on the water when i tilt the bowl.I have now already all fleet sailing from one river bank to the other.I am throwing there a twig-will be like a raft for drawning man.I am throwing a pebble to see some bubbles rising from the depth of the sea.I have the moment only for myself..moment of freedom..I take all fallen petals and let them float all on the water.I pour down water drops on some...and rght there I wil place lighthouse.Then Ia m swinging the bowl..so that ships may rip the waves.Some will sink...Some will crash into the rocks..one ship is sailing alone-my ship.It sails into fozen cave..there is sea-bear roaring and green chains of stalactites are swinging.
We are laying under the black currant bushes..Each blow of wind covers our body from toes to heads..My hand is like the skin of a snake..my knees are like pink islands soaked in the water..your face is behind the apple tree net.There are black wings of leaves above us..You have a twin in the hair..You have a green caterpillar on your neck...Snail's home is visible in the grass like a dome ..Bird is diving his beak in the soft bodyof a worm..Now we are safe..we can get straight again...stretch out our arms under this huge dome of the forest...I can not hear anyhting apart from the sound of wild dove flying in the air .over the beech on his wooden wings.Now you are escaping again..going up like baloon's string...
I am shaping balls from bread and call them people...Wherever we go things are changing under the glance of our sight..byt when we leave it al behind ..aren't are same again?Ther eis some kind of mystery that surrounds peoplewhen they are moving away from us.Ia m taking lemon sponge and soak it in the water..it became chocolat eincolour Holding it high and squeezing in my palm.water is pouring down through the gutter of my spine.My body cold..wet and shining...wrapped up in warm towels...When I dry my back ..the roughness of the towel makes the blood around the ribs purr.
I stretch out my toes till I can touch the rods on the other side of my bed...touching them I make sure about constant staff existing next to us.Finally my thoughts may pour out fro m my mind..free from upsetting collisions I am sailing alone under the white rocks.
Not touched with any oar..the lake of my mind is waving mildly and after a moment is diving into oil sleepiness.
Someone has raised hand up to his neck...due to such unexpected actions..human beings fall in eternal love.
Each evening i tear out the card from calendar..smash it is my fist..this way I take vengeance oh the image of passing school day.
Blood that crushes my ribs must be light-red and foamed.I feel this pinching in my feet..Behind my eyes everyhting is dancing...net..grass...faces..more convulsively like butterflies...and trees seem to be jumping up and down.There is nothing constant..nothing moving in the universe..Everything is waving and going round..Everything is velocity and victory but when I am laying on this hard ground I start to feel a kind of need...that someone will come here and find me ..someone attracted by anonymous impulse inside of me,,someone who can not live far away without me..then we will move to some kind of solitary place and talk together by the tongue of eyes.Now the flush ..the rise is decreasing and trees comes down back ..on the earth...and I may go for tea;) I am dreaming of fireplace and fire shelter and closeness..and I am dreaming of night to come .''people who are upset are just sunsets-lovers''....At night Ia m a friend of Wergiliusz and Platon.
These were handicaped days just like moths with burnt wings unable to fly.....But through all these summers and winters somehting arose inside of me..in houses.staircases....I do not wanna all thes epeople staring at me with admiration when Ia m leaving..I wish to give...and have something back and I wish my solitude in where I may cherish all my precious memories.I flutter like pyjama on the wind even while my teeth are crushing sandwich with butter and I'm drinking sweet milk.Then I will be back ...I will be coming back home along the trambling avenues under the domes of hazels..Passing old lady who is pushing baby's pram filled with dry twigs...and i wil be passing a shepard..but we will not say even a word just have an exchange of smile.I will go back and see curved leaves of lettuce sprinkled with dew drops..and blind house..with covered windows.And I will be back in my old same room .open the wardrobe and touch all staff...sea shells..and postcards with all memories preserved ;bewitched belongings. I will feed the pigeons and squirrel and I will go to the shelter and comb the spaniel.The introduction has taken its place.and the world has been performed..I will be back home soon.
I am now and here...with my elbow supported on the window-sill..ther eis a cat sleeping in a bucket ..2 men and 3 women..we are getting closer and run away with each second.,,running through the fields of golden wheat.This life...life has appeared fro m the sea l..life holding long dark fringe..we are attached to that like bodies to wild horses.Someone is getting on a train...I do not believe in isolation..I try to get to know new one in the department but instinctively his presence is annoying me.We are not separeted creatures.I wish to increase my collection of precious observations concerning the nature of human behaviour.I fulfill my mind and thoughts with all Ia m surrounded with.Our loneliness wears the marks of fractures...
Human voice can be so DISARMING...I need a kind of concrete in everything..only this way I may getin touvh with the world..the best things are createdin loneliness..theyneed final freezing...it can not happen in affectionate soluble words...Necessity is resting in my mind freely..like a button or old coin...
Mil old man is picking up old tickets..someone talks about the nature of human destiny..someone lost the ticket..standing on the platform is waving his hands ...the train went without him..
When Ia m leaving the room where people talk...I hear only my steps.I see the moon going up in all his indifference and majesty..people say Ia m elusive...they do not know they should get used to changes and huard all entry and exits..to their life..Ther eare here some people that make good impression on me..I call them ''creatures who know how to achieve balance in the middle of the river'' ( and immediately in my imagination I see fishes with their mouth in one direction and and opposite current of the river)We are all like fish in the middle of the river.When I enter the room..switch on the light..I feel Ia m one of these full of fantasy impudent..able to reflection human..and I grab the fountain pen and write .write a letter ..that I have to start all the time again and again from the beginning...but still with same eagerness and pleasure.What I need is the speed...sentences coming one by one.like avalanche . I need Byron to dive into perfect mood.
It was perfect day..Beats that gathered under the dome of my soul are colourful and perfectly round...I like glimpsing through other people's arms...all the time somehting new jumps into my head.Nothing should be named ..naming..we change it unconsciously..let everyhtingbe soaked in a delight and joy..this beauty..this sea shore ..this me..I tis hot now...ships are sailing through red ..through green..and in the backgroud there is a bell audible...but not for death..There are bells bringing life..leaf is falling down from happiness..Ach...I AM IN LOVE WITH LIFE.....And I will be home soon
