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EgoPHobia #11 >> English


K orp, raw, penta, punk-rock synopsis, golden age emporia

Alex. Sigartău

no_title, no_title [2], however far i went

Claudiu Komartin

Romanian Oddity

K orp


meat Patriarch. Our Lips are sealed. Vulva to
prayers prey on the
Pig. Abattoir cathedral. Breathe thru the

Semen. citizen. Carcass & gentlemen
Mob. follow the blood
I'll stab the. I'llstabt he C hrist




To the sound of god Falling into
a communal Pit

pigs media.
somehow we never Choke
Dead men won't march, be polite Sir otherwise We

Army and candy
Under Christmas tree.

Cutthroat Spire we live in a liar

thirtythousandmen I say.




not a word.
the hymn of the republic.
You have the right to remain silent. The Kaiser's in
your browser
within the flower.

there's a queen in your teen.

Government on

terrorist antichrist

higher underground

martyrdom is poison



punk-rock synopsis


bulldog ballet


a capella

rape shape

institutionalized euphoria

my insomnia

"look on the bright side to suicide"

reclusive sequence of

the terror stars

a countdown




golden age emporia


metropolitan depletive
forests drawn on high tech facades

advertise dead lamb centerfold pentagram

asphalt liturgy of snails

welcome to my bunker, in the city of golden age

stilt caravans carry the spades

warmonger son of Sagrada
Maria the snake



Alex. Sigartău

we looked back to where we stood before,
to the young days, only to see ourselves cry.
we looked back only to see strangers
in our place.
and these words are not for you to understand
as they are not for me to write.
i just wander the buildings stripped barren
and, as i go about, i begin to see
some resemblance. it's odd to catch
yourself in empty places, but then again
i find it increasingly harder
to connect to anyone smiling.
this is no suicide note.


no_title [2]

Alex. Sigartău

this soul is blank.
no code to implement for
what has no purpose.
forgive the saint mary cross
and replicate humble faith.
no church admittance.
sell dope and pray
and wear smart sun glasses
to cover cheating eyes.
the body is a grand target
to abuse and to build shrines to.
morning makes emotions look pale.


[photo by Alex. Sigartău]

however far i went

Alex. Sigartău

this blade is endless and i feel
like playing it like a cord on a violin.
i can't understand what to believe anymore;
everything has the smoothness of knives
and words that meant something are eaten up inside
by rust and lies. people just seem to
mean nothing.

news come seldom on border islands.
it's more like tempests that stir the death
and us along marching along on sunken promenades.


Romanian Oddity

Claudiu Komartin

For Ki Young-In

I've seen the place where people work even in their sleep
there I fell in love with a yellow woman
for whom I was an oddity from another world:
a polyglot gipsy, whose throaty voice sounds
through the darkness of a ghost town
inhabited by 20 million robots.
when I stopped begging for understanding and warmth,
I lifted myself from the earth as in a buddhist legend
my body floated for a while
in an abyss full of neon lights and optic cables
and everything burned in an instant
turning to ashes before my eyes
blurred by desire and madness,
as a film from the old age of soundless pictures
in which dummies imitate people's gestures and habits.


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