Poems

by Alexandru Ionaşcu

Life

I was in a __________________ God – forsaken

I slept a ___________________ God – forsaken

I died a_____________________God – forsaken

I dreamt a ___________________ God – forsaken

I viewed a __________________ God – forsaken

I touched a __________________ God – forsaken

I fucked a __________________ God – forsaken

I drank a ____________________ God – forsaken

I ate a ______________________ God – forsaken

I read a______________________ God – forsaken

I wrote a______________________ God – forsaken

I imagined a __________________ God – forsaken

I counted a ___________________ God – forsaken

I pricked a ___________________ God – forsaken

I kicked a ____________________ God – forsaken

I discovered a _________________ God – forsaken

I closed a _____________________ God – forsaken

I embraced a ___________________ God – forsaken

I excused a ____________________ God – forsaken

I forgot a ______________________ God – forsaken

I welcomed a ___________________ God – forsaken

 

 

Samuel Beckett, From a Roussillon note, 1942 – 43

 

poem featuring double L gellu

 

start wearing multicoloured razor thoughts

all your frontal lobes and incidental semantics

they’ll all be set adrift in a snail’s spark plug,

I promise

it’s a catalog, I collect things, I’m a collector,

no no no non non non

it’s just the dead in beckett’s deadpan of neon wonders

by the eyelids of babylonian and laputan marshes

from finneas wake to passepartouuuuuut

right into the unilluminated foucault-marshmallow

so differ – differ – differ – ence – hence a new type

of postvirus not fully structured in the postblankheadoffice

and the head head head of mr. grammatologien rien rien

walking spinning lifting flying above heavenscrapers,

albatross-feathered heavenscrapers

and plummeting with speeds surpassing the lightsoundfinger

barrier of nearly 2,304,103,101,111,111,010 warps per follicle

straight, nosebeak first, into the fannyturgic saucepan causing

a littlebig malebolgian anime of slicing sinking and drawning

into the huge beast’s toy underbelly before the tip of the blade

takes to dinner that severe ursprung which sprung from the true

– and it was a beautiful and delicate and fried as hell ursprung –

name of the six beauties of the eight paths to be worth forgetting

il nome della bestia including its left side all-inquisitive professor

helping his right side all-blinding black-gloved gnostic monk

to find out the real digit name of the evermore beastie delights

whose severely lacking in drama searches revealed:

six

six

six

the

number

of

the

beast

so yeaaaahhhh start reading naum – gellu with a double L, surrealist extraordinaire or how they say it in thracian: gellu cu doi de L, surrealiste extraordinaire (this is cioranian french, so peel your eyes away) – in the blink of the night

all your egg white nausea in the puberty of the morning

will yolk away like it was yesterday and your DNA seemed so far awaaaay

PARTY AWAY AND ASSIMILATE THE REMAINS OF THE DAYLESS DAYS

NIGHTLESS NIGTHS

DREAMLESS DREAMS

DEATHLESS DEATHS

1 Comments

  1. Pingback: EgoPHobia #43 – sumar | www.egophobia.ro

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.