film vs. movie

Debility to create lends itself to 'movies' which may be temporarily cheered, however, destined to be disregarded to the wandering dust in time.
On the other hand, films are the produce of unique expression of a visionary who is always seeking ways to dispose of the persistence of the presence of time.

who-am-i-but-a-lover

#98

a damned book.
surrounded as i
never cease to be a man
surrounded i
estrange the idea of man
who tickles through the nights as the night herself

cold profusion of my knowledge
administer a quiet stand

slightly aroused by the burst of everything
neglected by a writer,
copious mirrors guide the way
with creatures and creations.


#97

How does love become liberty at the expense of someone else? 

#96

What good is a question if the answer shouldn't render it useless?

Is matter heavier than meaning?

The answer is the gravity that makes one compose the question.

It's ubiquitous like the life of the view.

#95

Lino Ventura speaks with life
it dare say nothing in my defence
heedless headless chicken in my pace
I am a watch, cloudless mane,
on tiptoes I march you to our revenues in pure visions
escalating to a dance that kills



#94

I am as of now
I have a life in brackets
but, there is no holding me.

I am as of now
maybe I don't know the science of the self
within the self i possibly hold the
face of my drifting
let go of me
i am as of now
as i am still physically the youth
walk with me to its inevitable end
for i may show you men who change the world and remained with youth mentally
beautiful as of now I'm the process of undying after dying
I, too, will make you cry.

#93

I am decoyed to melancholy
as you please
the world has succumbed to the pleasures of the vile lake
the cauldron, the hatred excrement.

whores and cretins plunder that sacred union we call a kiss.

#91

every event is a caged tiger
a limpid criminal who is undertaking something ephemeral
like the eyes of children
unleashed from boredom

#90

Sleuthing mirrors know the face
that duplicates the spirit exactly.

The incision of a lie
the whores around my neck
all wait their taciturn game
to lose plot and time.

#89

I am tied to this world
with a serpent flair

an enigma reigned by the trail

that terrible 6 in the morning
when my eyes are the sawdust falls





#88

NOW

now, there's an interesting topic.
always now.
now and then.

#87

.. I WALK LIKE A BULLDOZER
AND CRASH LIKE A PORCELAIN CUP

... THIS BURST OF RUSH IS NOT FROM THE WHIRLPOOL IN MY 
SOLE...

#86

The incarnation of power
I obliterate my past as a face who soaked the sun under eternal gaze.

in this
retentive
cloud above my head
a million man have relinquished their lives
for a trigger
in the revolution of the mind

#85


ira

went to see my friend IRA COHEN at the hospital with Joce.
He read his poems to us like I always remember him for.

this is for him. >>

He is an insider to psalms and only in psalms
there is the mention of the thread that runs through us all

mystic beautiful man
the one who lives in several dimensions
internally and eternally

Baba!
us dying for a swig from your constellations
all is recorded erasing the space,
the origin of wisdom

#84

I indulge in the promotional material of the devil
in the skin festival.

Time is in time to beget my life
from the ruthless detours spiralling into the anus of the night

#83

there are no mysteries in life!
in the unfulfilled expectancy
look for the reason
rest assured desire never holds the leash of itself in forthcoming
neither the crazy love could refrain from burning.

this is a wise moment
not a wilful one.

#82

what is virtually lost is gained eternally in the memory!

#81

longing... a case of selenity.
at least there is a desirable quarter in every hour nailing me on my toes.
at least after my memory I can vanish in voluntary allusions and embody your aura because you were there when I spontaneously boomed.
And your emeraldine accent on shy landmarks gently laced a timeless lapse over me; so permenant and yet so imaginary.

effect. in-spiration.

#80

A rose and erroneous ideas chase me down a narrow corridor.
The path is straight but I am zigzagging.
This pattern across my life is not a sign
I do not need to know about my own loss.

In love and faith
with an eluding face.
My own.
Yours.
Where edges are drawn to contain all this,
eyes flow openly into ether.
Beyond.

#79

like a moth clothing this spark
this moving darkness, this splendid solitude of thousand days
end up inside me.

#78

Idolators of love.

I am eaten,
eaten by the mass
inside, like a diamond in formation.

magnetically, i climb on the sweet melody of that visage
amidst the brume of literature, all that fits in sentences and what's beyond science
i gathered my being at your cliff reeling towards me
miles and miles of smiles
reams and reams of dreams
gush out
but, caught immediately
by the gravity of this sky above us

information is spread across this heart,
my saviour beating life,
I lacerate an arm that fires poetry
all my confidants fail to keep this secret
my eyes, my shy spasms, flirtatious lapses of reason,
are envisioned to love.

Are there faces, locks to realise memory?

Skipping stones on the
vexations I've escaped and I shall recreate
and I feel.
Alive.
You arrive.

#77

thrust me into this love, based like an ocean of that familiar feeling,
covet me,
pearl of lunacy,
crawling invested in this tunnel of vision
strapped without eyes
melancholy
who's your wiped out valentine,
wanton and livid?


#76

She was still a drop of ointment on my lips.
I uttered something corrupt.
love.


#75

an erection found a body,
caressing the tattered attire of sound and vision by the cliff of these moments,
when desire calls upon a living pagan
to cut the hand off that writes this wrong.

#74

The sinister self wants to compel an urged visual urchin
snuggling with the bed of the sea
like a baby in a trolley

casket head
replaced these houses and houses of watchful intelligence
on a clapping hand
we fall as the nigh evening of a sloppy murder.

Meningitis meaning
sensitive to light
and sound

#73


Pera. The hotel where temptress Nina Valeria lives. An assassin.

#72

Imaginary beings
revel with me
upon the timeless tireless complex whirlpool of my soul.

they see everything
the beautiful core,
entrusted to a situation that is my life.

#71

ignoble society

cowards,
leeches,
consumers hidden in workers,
who work like bricks to fall heavy on their bourgeoisie aspirations,
opinionated cock-gnawing mouths detached from the mind,
gasping arseholes,
agnostic pretty people,
believers who are led astray from belief by the way of extreme visions supported like a football team,
fiends,
inventors,
the thing in the shadow that no longer mark it's existence,
lives festered in the factory of rumours,
self-adoring mythological creatures with temporal trivia as life,
dead eyes,
dead voices,
squeaking americans,
knotted individuals who terrorise themselves through agonising others.

#70

please release me
from the insidious traps of my wont.
to dispel this potential
i wanted this bell that rings to
spellbind us with change
for once and for all.
lustrous forethought strangling the world
in my hands
there is a machine that releases tension
in surges natural.

the corpse of our origin is revived daily by the assassin on the trapeze of time.

#69

I am drained in reality I have given an error a meaning.

#68

Join him.
Fatality is made.
Into the arms of death
time shuts his briefcase.

#67

poet,
enraged by truth,
is the rebellion of life
against science, art and economy.

a lad insane
mutiny in persona,
I am preparing the greatest show on earth.

funnily enough
the thoughts, cultivated by mice,
that ploughed the mind of mankind

criticism, like a block of cement, in hindsight, a new frontier.

my wont wants to rebel,
erecting a smile, wrecked in a mild retina, implacable visions
I am going to confront a fallow madness
dormant with death incarnate,

parasites curly curling, in music, cinema and veins.

What is the cost of pride in upright history?
Since, we have time by definition, the current currency
can not handle such transactions, sir, we are very sorry,

they own all the moppets manning the idiots, by the balls,
future is the property of perverts and queers,
"idolatry is tremendously fashionable this year,"
good dear.
Last hundred years,
cinema and music has been ill,
for the favour of the common denominator, an imbecile,
ground into the floor
by "the dark satanic mills",

Aphrodisiac poison
will suffocate and kill you,
they have perfected the guise of this,
it mixes well with your dreams.

the germ men in merry cunts
nazi bastards,
they talk only in advertisement,
with high pitched nasally accent,
their country, deathbed to liberty,
is the world's reflection in funny mirrors,
Boxed in this idiot's head,
television is a wide open anus,
funneling all the human waste into the collective mind,
a system for image and sound, that is reproduced on screens,
broadcasting propaganda, hokus pokus, chiefly in entertainment, information and education.
This great education,
I wouldn't call brainwashing,
where is the brain in this?
it's pure laundering for the sheets of green frog skin.

their spirit burns money
I burn their spirit like money.



#66


the song of my ego

a man, consumed at the expense of eternity.

I am just a plan with a man,
determination in person.

Self-centred perceived eccentric, it is by vocation,
I manifest this life as my magnus opus.

What I may heresay is absolute truth, as all I won't say is not untrue,
that it just is someone else's opinion, but who could never sing the song of my ego.

#65

To the heart of the matter,

Their spirit burns money
I burn their spirit like money.

#64

[ A word from Kino to appear in the upcoming Revolution of the Mind]

The practical consequences of ages invested in the wisdom and confusion about the true nature of human existence, in relation to what he himself reckons, whether this reason has been entrusted to a doctrine which naturally falls close to, either idealism or materialism, even far before these schools of thought were put in the context of history, the body and spirit, material and immaterial essence of man has still yet to define his position in the sheer apprehension of his conscience, to me, that is the prism which fractures all things to their origins, including his own logic. Turn back your mind, back on itself.

#63

Megolamania procures a vantage point for the pest, the vermin, who says I am capable of representing reality, I am a filmmaker, a photographer, a critique.

#62

intelligence connects the dots,
intellect often disconnects them.

#61

my angst opened up like a mouth of a volcano.

#60

I was at The Knowing Circus last night.

we were unlocked,
music from black keys
dictated me the shrapnel
deep
as a woman.

Men collapsed masked with sadness.

A particular legend,
concrete on the panorama.

(2)

to raise our dead and question the cause of this grand dismay
that wakes and doses us with sleep at the same time.

Grand piano investigates a murder,
still being committed at the tip of my fingers.

(3)


when the poet raises his terrified mother
from the childhood blasphemies,

#59

To the meshes of the afternoon,
we’ll embark around musicians,
feeding our nocturnal vision.

Before anything else to discern the unborn tragedy and mourn for life and brevity to express anything else.

#58

Trembling without subtance

It's obvious to be breathing

Dynamites on your chest

only you enliven the moment

this woman is a knife to cut you into half

the dumb states too much

only fools are the sane

the real in the imaginary

time no longer counts

in silent centuries

turn back your mind back on itself




#57

Perdition at last.

#56

What's the difference between creator and creation?
Absolutely nothing.
To become an opus with one's life.
You know, rolling forward as the jet of a billiard ball banging on the triangle, with the intensity of a garden hose going off after being untied from a knot.

#55

eyes are ribboned by birth
sight to vision

the ache in our sordid bones is from the recluse of the lizard
who fucks in human skin.

#54

Freedom!
Vicariously assassinated at birth!
for you freedom
they slain
to cage you in a state of the insane.

This insanity is not the one of brilliance and misconception.
but, of mediocrity and devious denial in desperation for power,
pitifully, only measurable by economy.

I tell you, the real power cannot be bought and sold or even exchanged, moreover, certainly cannot be leashed by a group of people for other people.

#53

an automatic message:

solitude is multitude.
nice one, nice one, mice won.
in the white hot impossible.
i am afraid the world might be an end.
if i wasn't ridiculous, i could have been a pompous bourgeoisie twat.
hidden in the mad ridden youthful waste of me.
there is deep faith in making nonsense out of everything deemed correct and complete.
don't temper with mad love.
dozens of songs at one go, the other evening.
in the meantime,
wolves are eating each other over a sheep in a wolf's clothing.

#52

Pieces rust that work the hour.
Time.
The very idea of measurement.
The imposed civilisation.
Where did this ambition to progress come from?
Whose need was it to sit on foam?
We know that economy has nothing to do with numbers,
it consumes souls,
embodies their bodies,
Always new on the market. 
A tube of hair gel, dynamic curves of cars for different seasons,
and thanks for the records now all beating with a permenant pulse, 
drums of africa is finally ringing in the western world, what a  massive jungle without the wild, peopled and dying for recollection because it suspects a beginning.
History, it's loyal terrorist, whose brainwashing acquits many villians and cannibals for
the grotesque party of misinformation.
Beware! Somethings never happened.

#51

Who is the shrapnel stuck in my mind,
in the gentle idea that
I am a leader?

#50

All masks are off
names and numbers must die
get out from where you hide
traps must be reset,
for liberty,
that cannot be owned by a state or a statue,
it's mine and like minded mines of brilliant stuff like me.

#47

the door is afraid of opening
so am i,
and yes I am unhinged by the mind
that padlocks this language.

#46

Falling on false sense of security.

#45

I am atomised silence
on a steady lapse of unauthorised noise
inside me,
arrests me.

Any future will foretell the past
while we are clambering over a civilisation
that burns its dead like our collective memory.

#44

At ease I used to stitch myself to verses
now the deliberate pause
if I stopped writing
is it because I am living instead?

#43

The prick and the womb
is a deliberate chaos
inserted on this planet
to thrust the inevitable end
inside us that carries the naked light
by which we are.

#42

The impenetrable blue of Poseidon's realm
and the arbitrary construction that rises above Paris
has got me thinking about the flesh of women who live down below.

who can deny the coming of the idea?

#41



PEEVING SONG by Kino

I would like to shut you up and cut you into parts
resembling the cobbled stone streets of the mind
whenever you weight the man with a smile
everything must be convincingly done

disappear after a terrible mess,
go on son rupture this night,
I can't peeve everybody in the world
but, i will try

soothe my conscience, i am an ambush hidden in a man,
have you heard it the news is that you are dead.
new york city has too many wicked souls
this place is really really fucking doomed...

iron curtain before your eyes
a human being will get numbed under any circumstance.

alluring lips of a giant dog
this government would like a snog
swallow your affection, miss.
i am not on your side.
you'll know me as an insult.

#40

Corpus enigma!

Armed with the forces of intelligence
for the great sabotage of the mind,
for the revolution at hand.

#39

To my maze,
I shall still withhold words from their meanings
for each one of these pearls are utterly blind
and infectious
like love has been to me .

now the laughing wine is overflown with the music of chains and irony maiden in a dream, but an erosion.

#38

Disarm Humans.
We are in a race of centipedes
can't you recognise the grand prize beneath the stars,
they are not on this net between us.
But in between us.

#37

An image for an image,
an eye for an ear
an ear for a mouth
a mouth for a lie
a lie for a life.

#36

America is just the reflection of Europe in funny mirrors.

#35

One glance
until all is thought to be fathomed,
all in a fragment until we meet again.. when... by our mutual surprise
we discover that fraction again in the remnants of a speed
which we are,
a debris of a comet.

#34

Hope is in the lines of a woman's thighs.

#33

Does a question respond to an answer the same way a mirror does to a face?

No? Yes?

Hemispheres of buoyant temples on those chests I wish to adore,
are the tests in an inadequate pleasure for pure evil?

Yes? No?

#32

I have wasted my youth and all it's spark for a relief made for the self by the hand.
I have come forth to lacerate the same hand that bridges the gap between you and me.

to my heroic disappearance act in the face of the world,
in the face I am spotted with disgust,
upon seeing the slow decay of the self for the serfdom of the self in the seldom fatal presence.

#31

The waltz of death
tell me
what you see
in the faint hanging body
might there be a faint spirit
as the shroud of a divine idea, maybe?

#30

I was brought to justice by a severed hand,
but night with it's symbolism
and beautiful embroidery of fleshed perfumes is as divided as this hand writing while erasing.

#29

Ingenious revival of my child
hooded with marvels
walk this expired infant again through thick and thin
on the infinite juvenile grandeur,
into the luminous grinder of dreams which make us into men.

#28

Who builds these catacombs
on people's faces?



#27

The cliff I fell from is higher than my being.

#26

testimonies of a super- ego:
enlarge as you wish, my pretty!
you are not alone in this world.

sulphur smile,
mellotron tease
I am yours
all the way

culprit desire
camels throttle under shy gates which yield no stranger
a way rounded up about heaven

#25

Everything comes from one and returns to one, too.

#24

Have I been devoured by an insatiable moon?
I surely mustn't know.

This very day,
I am welcome to an eclipse
once predicted when I was a child.

Of all the ends to a love story
the best one is to start another one.

#23

I am possessed
my entire being is sledded down
the abyss of existence

#22

Boiling in the mutual stream,
in the obedient wail of the hour
ridiculous
solid eyes tell me
who am i
i am worn over a million shrouds.

#21

Modern Malady.
Our actions, habits, ambitions, desires, affections are as modern as our corpses.
modernmalady

#20

The man walks his shadow to tolerate the doubt;
whether it is day or night,
it's neither!
only a song of the piper.

#19

fang-less vampire,
teeth deep in a sealed smile.



when one remembers one often forgets
how beauty is a captive child in your feminine fortress.

#18

mevlana,folding into an aeroplane,
gaze under everything, artaud
speak no longer, godard
forming the big enigma with an unsure smile, breton
I am your child.

My heroes are forests,
books still in the form of trees.
Their pages content with air
and the rippling of a stream nearby
just minutes before civilisation.

#17

I received a bullet on the chest of liberty.

#16

ascend on a beautiful day,
life keeps you inside me like a pearl inside death,
on a beautiful day,
let army of shadows play,
black keys of the piano playing the song of death.

music: Kino
9








#15

Everything at once!

If i can't articulate the complexity of this mental image,
it's because there are magnetic fields between "being" and "representation".

I cry,
I endure
I am volatile if I am, on purpose
in the purgatory
mangled between my two ears.

#14

Don't be a mother to my skull.

#13

Nothing itself is mentally together.

in the body,
inborn stupidity,
in the mind
unborn euphoria,
outliving something close to being a life.lie

#12

we whiplash you with silent centuries,
hit you in the face with a few histories.

we apparently are always invisible,
only visible while disappearing.

You will find us waiting at the wielding of a sharp tongue.

#11

we sail in the ruins and in vessels.

#10

Advancing towards a concrete idea in order to flatten my face.

Glaciers over this lucidity is a fantastic mirror!

I beget reality by each and every glance,
to forget that the climate inside me is a restless boy.

#9

I am a
Black swan
on the lacquered pond
with the ghouls of the noon.

I used to love a woman,
her name comes to mind
when Ophelia slit her mouth with an open wound.

#8

This illusion has a future!
Avoid fiction!
Shrapnel of truth skips gracefully on the ice rink of all hearts.

#7

I must commit something more terrible than
manhandling former lovers!

Heist, my desire.
Big crime.
Uniformed in hypnose.

#6

museum of modern corpse;
there for the spirit of destruction,
full of mute relics
and fatal wounds
and form that belies all essence.

#5

A story that would replace me was
handed to me from a manhole.

#4


and her eyes were finally rapacious
from wanting...

#3

... and if ever before the great swallow
of our existence,
this glistening awareness halts
the next pose in the eyelid will be eternal.

#2

We cut the reflection of music,
from the black keys,
unlocking each mysterious voice,
every voice that is too long for a mouth.

sound, noise, voices
the breath of neighing shadows penetrate 9,
i am deadly as the pieces of the night before, running out of you.

#1

True to the melodies of death,
someone is pulling the zipper through
where I have been in order to erect
a reason.

there is nobody, only soul.