Poetry book



Steven Duplij

Kharkov State University, Ukraine


University of Kaiserslautern, Germany


Do not be sad, my Evil's Angel:

Not everything has passed - the moan, passion.

My tired soul was embracing

With yearning on the injured graveyard.

Do not raise bridges on the vault

Of all absorbing bondages -

The wastedness of shoots and nonsense

Of years lost and useless words.

Do make them pray for happiness,

Do not defame yourself in filth.

The Fate has closed verdict lying

Upon my wrists and scoffs again.

And - rendezvous with motif crazy

Is ceasing. Knocking at the Night,

Excreting cluster of excuses

Naive, I'll take the rule of them.


The creeping evening - I am tired of years,

Shift moan-gaze from the wallpaper to the wreath

Of blisses lost. My dream decayed as nucleus

Primordial from futile rows of mine.

There's no events - I carry the temptations

To their grave: my soul - sobs violently and hands - in blood.

I leaf through Night. And her miasmas

Stole into my inside to rot the shame of strivings dead.

Being fatted with success, Naiveness slept,

Breaking prognoses with the memory of wasted days:

The Fly has stiffen on the highest point, laughing

At pseudomeaning of the formers to fall down painful more.


Transparent eyes,

Affected tears

Call to the soul's bottom

Stronger than the Fate.

And nothing more to say -

Metamorphoses burn me

Embroidering the summons

To wash away the Slave.

The obstinacy of Nought,

The distances got blind...

Caressing flowers perished

With foam of the dreams.

I put on leaves of bliss,

I colour lying scaffold

In the primordial trace

To harden like a mad.

Disfiguring Motif

I glue up moan with verses,

Insatiable words.

I grasp with pain of years

For roses strongest wish.

I have been rotten, staying

Alive as Skeleton

Of debts to have been gnawed

And have already gone.

Surmounting the Night

I come to open space,

To set for them the Candle

Adhered to the hand.

The Icon. They: my son

And daughter - stolen

By way of life,


Some trees...

And Light...


Beyond blinds of my youth - my years

Remelt the Nothingness

With fylfot of blisses to brighten

The total with creation famine.

The light on the lines painted

Is frosting with aching act again

Of "Do forgive me" play -

To others - parts I'll hand.

The dream of Past is spreading

Behind my guilty windows -

I'll stand on Edge to slam them:

A step - and the fly is prejudged.

The closed despondency torus

Is rolling the Fate downwards.

Confession is sprinkling with silence,

With files of my years crushed.

No, I don't fall to my knees,

I do not spill the motif.

Last gamble with my life as if blitz,

Modulation of figures mort.


Blind with my dream-ruins

Of broken years and goals,

Get stronger with word "senility",

I'm kneading the clot

Of soul's unleavened wares

Nursed with foam of mob

To satiate the life's last volume

With stench.

I will drink heart-rending

Of corpse-debts, achievements

Squeezed in luxurious paws

Of the Fate lying to face,

I cut off the terror's remainder,

I burn up the Root by doubt

To powder with ashes

The way to nowhere -

To be....


I thought in vain -

The time is mine - no hurry.

A foolish dream -

My volume's full of life.

I'm getting mute

Embracing handful pages last

Unread and having mark:

"To afterwards".

All wasteful surges

Lot will overtake,

That is expounded

In alien volume-walls,

Which're rotten

With oblivion of Inside

Rewarping lying dreams' refrain.

I will approach Him

And smile from pain, succumbing,

Expecting final words

In brutish feast of the ideas empty

And poisoned gods...


Refugees of pity -

The Thread over abyss is cut.

The Past is split lengthwise:

Extends alongside.

Tumour is turning

To moan, walled up

Into Sore Time.

Sweetness of fancies fattened,

Pride in the empty,

Lassitude of engine-desires

Up to ashes.


Joy of unbound molecules

Which the wind of chance

Composes into initials down the Bottom

Like specks of dust

Smelling with cinders of arguments

And dirty tricks.


Crying. I stand by the window -

Everywhere there is that cruel silence of mine.

Cri de coeur melts into the night,

Extorting my daughter-hope.

Time revenges for my lying role -

I know it in my heart, but how to burn my failures?

The phone has been done to death -

With my dearest I've become a widower.

Do not beat me with the past, I'm kissing the ground.

What on earth shall I do? Get cool for good?

The gibberish glides to the depths of my soul.

How not to waste? - Write to write yourself out....


I dreamt of night -

The garden of graves.

Two steps - away

Go the debts of my soul.

The nimbus melted

Extorting a moan.

Stand still


I pray: do read

A moment yelling,

Do not dare leave

Concealing your face.

Please flood with Dream

The stagnated Meaning

To burn to ashes

For Fate's encore.

Forgive my wrecking

And failures, soul selling.

There's is the delirium -

Mine is Work, Home, Morgue.

I've stonily awoken -

A ray is gliding

Off the bottom of madness:

I'll keep the coup inside me.

N aivete gnaws, hurts, revenges.

My Sin is dethroned - the fancy-realm AIDS.


Doom is covered with the snow of idylls -

Whether to save my Light

Or to clothe up

My latest and inner worries

In the mud of the etceteras?


Fylfot of dreams

Unspoken and unuttered,

Caresses -

Poisoned by the mind.




In gibberish....


The coast of my gibberish is cut up

By neglectfulness of senses.

I'll burn my sinfulness to pay my debts to the night,

I'll burn my sinfulness to pay my debts to the night.

I'll soften in the colors of lines

Of the thrown-away idylls -

I'll forget the Passion cry,

I'll forget the Passion cry.

I'll carry out His words

And take her white-lie kisses -

I'll beautify my crypt by anguish,

I'll beautify my crypt by anguish.

I'm not afraid of the destroying Hope,

I'll let out my moan to them

Before I find the final peace,

Before I find the final peace.

Skinned by Him, all infinities

Are ground

on the table

of my soul's dream -

The realms

of fancy

are lapped by vileness:

Weeping is an echo from the unknown Abyss.


Stars have been named,

myths have been crushed:

I'm washing myself

yelling lying truth.

I'm slipping away,

I'm wounded by the dawn -

Tears have been dried out,

children have been stolen.

Meanings have been cut off,

gods have been poisoned:

I'm penetrating

the Nothingness by Word.

I'm betray ed by the past,

on the future lies the ice mask

Of the deal with Eternity -

no time to waste.


I am full of prayer

Chalice has been thrown away.

My liberation

Is out of trouble.

The breath of a straw

Mowed down

Has gotten cold.


Futility of hatred

Which has been fed up.

The end of Dream -

Underpaintedness of the past

Chastity canvas:

Please, hear me.

O! Lord!

Please, hear me,

Please, hear....



Hide me from sorrows around me


Don't allow me to have those dreams.

What should I do?

To start my life from the beginning?

How do You

Permit the crying of my depth?


Tell me where do you keep Dreams?

Have the goals,

Here, been really false?


Answer with no offence, who are You?

Maybe always

I'm crying and crying to myself?


Touching the flowers

Of neglectfulness


The meaning of revival,

Losing purposes,

Motifs of the sincerely

And weary Dream

Burnt down the vital juice

As the echoes of the void

To wane in moan.

In one throw to the immenseness

Of the icy loneliness closet.

On hands and knees from tenderness

Of poisoned centuries.

Give the inside scope of souls

To the illnesses of conscience.

The verse covered with sadness

Is the tombstone-reproach

For them -

Has been irradiated

By dream.


Accords of centuries

Are appealing in pangs

To the scaffold to themselves.

Giving up the hatred

I'm bursting into the white sheet -

Everywhere are my Lord and I.

There are traits of His doctrine

In the doubt-dreams -

Whether I perceive the knife of Nothing?

There is the guiltiness

With the wrong waste -

That life - for penny: Christ.

My prayer is spreading

To the home coast

In defiance of passions.

By love of the Lord,

By caressing birch-rods

I will cleanse my gaze to do it by myself.


Yelling I'll be divorced with myself -

Not for the sake for the drama.

I'll overyearn for the footprint

Which is rotted through by Fate.

My supermoan has been deceived

By the strange meaning

Of the inviolable pseudoyears.

Stand up!

Do not waste yourself

For the Nothingness.

Do not build in my heart the cathedral

Diseased with the infidelity leucosis.

I'll burn prognoses by the Star

Calling into the Night.

I'll stick together the roses

With my guiltiness.

I'm finding my daughter

In one of them,

In others....

My naivete - begone!


Our time

Is quantized

By our songs,

Our perishableness

Is revolted

By our welcomes -

Vomiting with primordiality, dreams

Are overflowed with the soul fanatical cruelties.

The delights

Are slipping away

After shadows,

Which are sticking

The quanta of time

Into Nothing.

The yelling Pain is germinating between offences -

We only ne ed each other till death

The indifference -

To the justified


Superperson -

On the wall

Of the supermind.

The interminableness of the vanishing blisses -

We are getting the Debts for the debts.

The perversion -

To the worn out

Lying feelings,

The revival -

To the naivenesses

Which are scattered

On the mad waste of the heart-rending Words -

They are alive with me, no matter how much you will burn me.


The world of illusions

Is the divine beverage.

The indispensableness of the courage

Will absorb their aimlessness.

Only by the beaten gladness

And the hatred of evil

You cannot multiply

Their modulus of rage

With the shamed maimedness.

Stand still!

The stiff gelatine

Of the non-time.

Please, squeeze Dream

In the grip of despair

And dwindle

The nilpotent quagmire

Of the non-space!

Though I have not known

The salty smell of the Sun:

Do not hide your face!

Please, give up yourself

To the other march,

To the spat fancy realm.


Pulling a face

I'm drinking again

The space without you,

And waiting,



Watering with Dream,


Wearing the belly of malice,

Gives birth

To the compossibleness,

Discarding nulls.

Please, cover us

With the Passion plaid,

And do not set congeal

In the artificiality night,

Moving backwards to the glow

Of the lying leprousness.

Please, ta ke me

For your second brush

To become my third

Dream superhemisphere.


I love you, love you

Up to the deep heart spasm.

You are my poison desired,

You are my soul orgasm.

The lock of the uneasy years-days

During which we were apart,

They cry from the inside -

I have grown into yourself by pain.

The blinded blisses

Of the two supernovas -

It is a flight to the depth

Of two hearts, like roses.


In that World,

Like on the edge of a blade,

Once again I'm catching at the air of the Soul.

Smiling, I've been reared by the losses.

What has remained for myself? - To write.

What should I write, when the sticky Time

Is cognized after its disappearance.

On the off-chance I'm abandoned by everybody,

My reflection is a withered skeleton.

I'm making my bed for two

For them, in my dream, not to appear from There.

Till the morning I'm saving my warmth for nothing.

Why, it will be neither these nor those.

At that time, going mad with fear,

I'll mottle my paper with the Infinity.

Maybe, this is their atonement:

I'll drink up everything which is getting cold

On the Bottom.

In that World,

Like on the edge of a blade....


Outside the window two birds

Were yelling into my meaning -

The cut ached,

The gibberish cried.

I was racing my moan -

The balcony infinite with ecstasy.

I'll haven't no time to have a drink,

I'll make myself to sew the ardour together

From the Dream

To cool down,

To extort the cor diality for them:

The mirror-like surface

Of the apathetic heart-rendingness.

Outside the window two birds

Were tearing to pieces my life.

The naiveness was asleep

And alive with the Word.

Pheophania's night

Melts with the pain of the mind.

The fancy realm - begone!

The palette is slipping away -

I'm trying to burn the sheet

Which is the humus of my soul.

Stand up, do not waste your gaze

On the emptiness - there are debts

Which are waiting for their sacrifice.


Semitruth and semiconscience,

Semiargument and semilife.

Semiworld? - Is not worth Fate.

Semimemory? - Begone! - I forgot.

Like the purge for souls,

"Semi-" melts the circle of meaning -

With the semireproach a semifoe

Is lying that he is a semifriend.

The sale with semifeelings,

Food is semifinished.


Is semifull up with semilove.

Semipower is semifreedom,

All are ashamed and make no complaint.

Rejoicing semicaring

We're semisleeping - backwards again?


Being tortured with lie,

I was alive with you -

Its superlayer

Between us

Consumed the cut

To the impossible.

The couch has been built -

Then I break into yelling to myself

And go to my crypt-dungeon.

Why, I see that my moan

Isn't needed here -

I'll disperse my haughtiness

On the faces of words.

The crowd made me sick -

I'm standing up straight

In front of the worst

I'll reject the flattery

Which is the tsarina of dreams.

I am tired

To the exhaustion

By the poverty of sounds.

Where do I find

The pledge of years?

The passionate and silly,

Alien lips of love

Cannot be torn away

From the dead blisses.

The footprint

Of the naiveness -

Rib crunch - is over -

The gibberish

Has mounted the moment.

There is a row

Of the Dream-like gravestones -

The light gapes

Out of the verse's point....


No, it's impossible to drive out -

And why to rush about them?

I'll never pacify

Remains of my shameless conscience.

I shan't forgive myself the treason,

But who can define it?

We're proving by yelling furiously

That we have the right to be like this.

While justifying the every step

We're caressing ourselves without doubts,

But we have no better blessings

Besides the lust and laziness.

Goodbye to all, may peace be with you,

I've known inside me myself and yourself.

I've broken away from the suffering sea -

I'm flying to the start of all the beginnings.


The ardour was wintering -

Inside me soul was driving.

Whither? -

I didn't know.

She was counting out -

I was counting on:

And it did not tally...

And the Malice,

Softening with the Passion psalms,

Squeezing her grin,


It was a stinking and eternal Ball,

Orgies of caresses,

The feast of loneliness -

And the Salvation.


Being hold in the ice-hole of inconsolableness,

I shall come to myself.

I shall try to lie on the brazier not to b urn

The mental city of mine with the uselessness.

I'll tear off hatred from heartlessness,

I'll get even with everyone who has lied,

I'll braid fancy realm and gibberish into the cloth of


For nobody to kiss me ever.

I'll move off the window only for the running start,

I'll embrace to forget you fast,

I shan't know for whom I was crying for the years.

Are you passing away? - It is simply a fever.


Having extorting the meaning,

Stand still the exaltation -

There is an awful lot of crushings

As to the handful of the livings.

The grin of the unwinking,

The reproach of the saints -

I'm sticking the moment

Into the morbid ground.

The guiltiness

Will absorb the yelling about

Everything having been wasted -

On the bottom

Me - an old man.

Face will be opened

For the last time -

The Things which were stored up

Will be whitewashed with Prayer.


The dawn

Has stained my meaning

With napalm.

Oh! No!

Do not betray

The steel of dreams -

Oh! Yeah!

I am alive with Fullmoon.

The distance of essence

Is shining

With the salvation

Of a rush to the Nothingness -

The Morgue

Of the pious

And guiltless


The delight

Of the loneliness's Dream -

The wheezing moan

Of the exhaustedness

Of evil -

To Sorrow,

To the naiveness of Time,

To the imperishableness

And gibberish.

The inviolable

Soul's outcast -

The dawn.


My air -

Is the blinding flow of radiation.

I gnaw it -

And my life is wiped by X-rays.


I don't want to decay on atoms!

Do I go that way? -

We are blamelessly squeezed.

The quiet and calmness:

"What's the matter, don't be afraid..."

By what do you measure everything?

You cannot get round

The childish prattle

And trembling of essence

By the faith in the degrees of lie.

So who is to be responsible?..


I have not been full of my praying delight

And I have shrunken.

What have I done? - The old man

Is dispersed by hopelessness.

The restlessness -

The mind's evil -

Reigns not there.

The nonhuman delicacy

Is not the Ray.

Please, answer!

Who is there? -

The immenseness

Of the morbid bondage.

Oh! Priestess of dreams! -

You are being poured over

From head to foot

By the nightmare.

You are a lover

Of the inconsolable and meek

Corpses -



Melting in the Naivete's pores

Of my yelling and stretched soul

Being swaddled by questions,

Arguing with Heaven,

The relaxion of doubts

Are drugging me to infinite dreams' precipice -

Please, write!

Painting the night of meanings

In a hundred of fresh and morbid flowers

Becoming covered with vileness,

I am holding my exaltation

On the manege

Of my helical pseudo-life

Sewn in a slapdash manner

From the bits of Dream.

Making advances to the Fancy Realm's lash

By the outer and tired< /B>

From its insincerity ditch

Of the marks warped with Depth,

I am praising the same Face,

I am having a foreboding about the scrap.

The cruelty of lying-prophets' rules

Will keep back the pouring of itself

Into the abyss of them -

But only for a moment.

The thought will freeze with hope

That this is not the last,

The last of my verses....


The callous voice

Of the inviolable Dream

Is heard in the Night -

Her rotten pieces

Are caressing my throat.

The graphomaniacs' chorus

Is spattered with evil.

My yelling is -

Not the damp of bottom rhymes

And not the house of verses

Of trite and miserable metres:

Being tipsy with my pain

I drink myself,

Extorting from my soul

The meaning

Of what I have been here,

Why I have wasted all roles,

Why I was swimming

In the false direction

And rowing with the false oar? -

Yeah, I was simply living...

Was praying...

And was freezing

Playing the game of change.


I gazed and stared -

The outcast of Hades

Is abased

By neglectfulness.

My moan, cool!

Please, sleep!

Incinerate a hundred times



"And do not lie,


The squalid passage -

Leading where? -

Towards the bottom of Heaven,

It is laid

With needles

Charged by Dream.

But who will wash

My eyes with the Tear

Till they bleed

For the mirage to disappear?

My Day -

Ha s played

The Coda,

My passion -

Has been crushed

By Years.

I shall forgive,

I'm not waiting -

I'm flying, flying, flying....



I haven't gone away -

I only hate

The Past,

I'm irritated


That I'm alive.

It's reckless inadvertence

Of loving bitter enemies.

I've seen growing faint -

I have been tired.

I have found Life

As if for fun.

But where is it,

Where is, on earth, meaning

And the heart-rending Call

Saving me

From the infinite fall.

The last hall -

Is the illusions' ball.

And the curtain has fallen....


The Night

Is loosing her head

By letting out

Shadowy delights -

I follow suit.

It is impossible to overcome

Tin of events

By the unconsciousness.

To edit

The abated

Cathedral of words

Hardly tinkling -

There is already

No time and evil.

The unperishable

Soul's ashes

Are drawing


On the youth.


Opened into the Infinity Night -

The Earth has grown quiet

For the betrayal

Of the yester day.

All perishable thoughts

And painful scenes -

Still linger here.

The dawn is far away -

There remained

So many rubber minutes

To be counted...

The drops of rain

Are hitting to the windows...

The soul's fatigue....


I see the grinning Face

In reddish light a gain,

I sing the final song

And cry: Begone!

My losses wait

And try to hate

All my false pasts

To choose the last.

I see the Stop

And call the Hope,

But His reply

Is short: You die.


My love, your love

Considered as continuations

Have been, by now, killed.

By whom? -

By us

And them.

I'm gnawed, you're gnawed

By loneliness and inspiration

Of our torn up feelings.

By whom? -

By them

And us.

We try to laugh,

To salute Freedom Station

Which's melting into the crying mirage.

Whose guilt? -

Of us

And them.

We thought enough

To close pagination

Of our senseless story-building.

For whom? -

For them

And us.


Yeah, I have known

That I will not leave without purpose -

The moment's dream is full of delicacy, evil.

The arms of Fate, her eyes - almost alive -

Do not allow me to sing the words of madness.

I'm opening the nebula of gas as for the last,

Nonburning and desirable time:

I'm within a hairsbreadth of life -

The call in my entrance room

Is putting off the execution for an hour.

There is the same deserted, rubber evening:

What does this hour give,

How many years has it stolen?

In case you have no things

By which to love and cry

Let your inside sonnet exhaust itself

With repetition.


The boniness of Time

Is drawing the piles

Of Events

Into the soul's depth,

Without noticing

That I'm still alive.

Let the footprint

Of desire melt

Into the ashes of disbelief -

Do not do that -

I belong to you.

But I'm in love

In loneliness somewhat -

Do not waste

Your jealously in vain -

Create yourself

And us.

Let Lie

Full gallop and away

Into worn out spume.

Love - is

Like Eternal Time.

The last spectator-player,


Is climbing up

The asymptotic stage

Of Life

To be melted into the Nite....


My horizon is torn to pieces -

The crucifying was made by lead.

I do not hear the Singing.

The Fall love

Full of ice

Is warping and warping my dream.

Let the lying beach

Throw away to the moan.

I am divorced with the false

Inside of me.

The thing, which is

A captivity for them,

Is my morgue of happiness,

As the Naivete's vineyard

Deceased in the rime of Dream.

The smoke of seconds

Has only enveloped

The Call,

Reminding with its odour

That my ardour,

Being ploughed up

By the Neglectfulness,

Is my soul's mad horseman

Exhausted by the worst evil

Of all-devouring

And needless words.


I was making Heaven's way to the Fullmoon's moan,

I was growing faint from the bottom ineffableness

Of soul soften by the crucifixion of madness

Of our yelling mutual understanding.

To learn the length of the ray turn away by gibberish

Of Dream which is not perverted by care -

And that is all, and my tears will stop

to lie for Hope.

I shall shovel meanings to become cool.

I was making Heaven's way to the Fullmoon's moan:

The Star was calling,

My love has been burnt.

The power of Grave -

Was taking things

Which belong her.

When? I didn't know,

I was sleeping with the sadness,

And was making Heaven's way to the Fullmoon's moan....


Where are you, the winds of mad joys?

Where is the ardour of delights, sorrows, passions?

They have parked the divine trembling

Into the nonsense of fates -

This is the soul's Broadway.

Whose star's collapse is dragging

Into the blackhole of mob?

Whose poverty's crying is enveloped

With the fancy realm's shiver?

Who will fall into the Nothing

When the Depth's supply of words

Stops to turn up thoughts?

With what to weaken the pity of the past and greed?

With what to replace the sincere gibberish of Essence?

To turn out the tirelessness,

To make drunk the strangeness

With the primordial meaning

Which is absent?


I'm fighting with the Past in Hysterics -

I'm rejecting the sweetmeat of Lie.

I'll cast away the sweep-net of Happiness

Into Dreams' Sea for Passion and Cry

To be born from the grinning Naivete

Of the thrown about yelling years -

In them I'll forget the melancholiness

Of blisses which haven't fulfilled.

I'll convert the Laugh into Distress -

This is a tiring theme.

Let the nonprimordial desires' infinity

Be melted into the Nothingness.

I'm slipping away from the blade

Of the poverty words' foam

For the forth coming debts' cloister

To be uncircumspectly destroyed.


The torture-chambers of the meanness

Are intimidating,


Calling to the Nite.

Do pour the moan over sincerity

To melt in silence

Among them -

Let them be lying.

Do soften the humus's yelling

With wretchedness -

I'm crying

And kissing the ground.

I'll curtain the essence

With rays of constellations' light

To hover as outcast.


Pheophania's rain -

I am freezing from the snow

Of cooling years

Torn away by the Past.

With what to surmount

Their terrible Meaning

Without desertion

From the wearing blisses

Of Naivete's backbittings.

I'm opening the Dreams' Bin

To endure anew

The Bottom's theme hackneyed,

Slipping into the Moan.

How to learn without wasting

That I'm ready without falsehood

For insatiability of Bonds? -

Smell is caressing the Vow.

Pheophania's rain -

There's the infinite beach

Of the Hope tired to sleep

And the words unuttered.

Pheophania's rain -

Depth cannot be surveyed

With the emptiness

Of your previous

And hollow-cheeked Debts.


After youth I was being delirious with childhood,

I didn't know where to run and how to live.

The reality threatened with scantiness,

Trying to poison with poverty.

Rejecting hundreds of sure miseres,

Whisting only the honest game,

Throwing the maxi-lives about,

I've comprehended the octopus of success.

But where is th e infinities' dale

Which I was deriving from the formulas of dreams?

So only the depository of the inside sinfulness

Was caressing and coddling with the bottom's stench.

Oh! Truths rotted through with evil!

Do not reflect the unfinished world.

Shooting off with the leaves of youth

From the loneliness's rapiers,

I'm oiling the canvas with despondency,

Which is yelling, grounded by myself:

The gin of madness soldered in my soul

Is hysterically whispering:"Be with your Dream".


There is the efflorescene of Naivete

On the hateful and delicate chains

Of tired feelings, formal caressings -

There are our children in it

Who are also not interested in us.

These are not us who have betrayed the ideas -

Let the fury be drown in the mire of lie.

But our greatgrandsons will be dare alive

Till the dishonour only.

There is nonabsoluteness of nonlaws,

There is the hands' wood of the lying bonds

Which're begging for the tampons of the past

To convert the dye into blood,

The cemetery into a meadow.

Pity, there are no needless stoppings -

Maladies are curing,

Smoothing out they are beating us.

Becoming pale we are waiting

For turning, as though new ones -

This is the refuge of hopes.


I'm not putting a brand on them

Leaving into space -

There is no place.

Their scalpel made by life

Is tenderly kissing.

I'm hoping,

Burning down,

I'm wearing myself -

And sleeping.


These have long ago disappeared,

There is the hearty laughter,


The etheric wind of Time

Is silent,

And the diffidence of Dream

Is angering,

And the Grief

Is consuming.


In the wild city

Disemboweled with poverty

It is better to be proud

Then to be fed about.

Where should I go? -

To the betrayer-Nite.

The Shadows are squeezing my soul

And governing my goals.

If I knew the limit of myself -

I'll be laughing boisterously,

I'll want to spit

On my false fate.

Do learn more rapidly -

Is it worth living or nonliving?

The row of my insolent roles

Germinates into Disgrace.


The multicolored ball

Of the dreams' smell

Has been torn away.

My soul

Is not begging for the things

Which have been gone away.


The senility is gnawing me -

The frost is on my skin.

The Nite of pseudo-Life

Is mowing her crop

And carrying off my Meaning

To the exhausting Couch,

To multiply my shout with yelling,

To multiply my mark with trace....

Oh! My Lord...

My Lord...

My Lord....


Oh! You! The scythe of Time!

Do stand still!

Oh! You! The blade of Nothing,

Set to the fancy realm -

Be frozen

To dream about yourself

In future,

To know

That my footprint

Has not been melted,

That I

Have not been successful

In lying.

Oh! You! The Goddess of wisdom,


Do take me off

The spears of the naive words -

As prickles of the roses

Desired - < P> Consume my Mind

For the delight

Of unforetold steps

Behind the horizon,

For empty peal of them

That will come.

But what's for me?

Why me?

I'm finished....


The nimbus carbonized

Has cut up

The meaning absolute -


The peace exhausted

Was tearing

The whole inside of me

To pieces -

The layer after layer:

Let evil come

Into the poverty.

The wastedness

Was calling to the Nothing -

Step after step.

The power of lie

Is the delight.

The finality

Was making years' moan way.

Let the sweetmeat of Naivete

Come to the reproach.


I haven't noticed the senility -

Nobody calls me and nobody asks me.

My natal children are leading up

Their children to the kindergarten.

I've tired of running, but the memory

Can be wiped by the Nothingness only.

There are no events - there're no reasons

For my soul to ail with the years.

I have poured myself over the Past,

But the pain has not been abated:

There is the rubber of my nights...

There is the cold of my bed....


There's the bend

Of the Fate's

Thread -

The blow

Is sliding

On the Mode

Of life.

Oh! My Lord!

Do not catch me

On the sincere word

Of love,

Do not stand

Around ahead

Of the non-living.

Please, open your eyes

On the Poverty -

I'm tired to burn down

For the Bottom

My last ray inside me.

I'll force

The stains to be washed

By the offences'


Of the obscene


I'm crying, praying,

I'm waiting

For the terror-day:

The Nite is scoffing at me -

I'll get drunk with the oblivion.


Freezing in the night, my gibberish

Has got free with a dream

By the silence unrestrained.

Oh, you! The infinite ball

Of the downcast promises,

Burning the jungles of years,

Do abate!

The last accord has been sung -

The soul overyells the moan,

Which is round the throat necklace

Of the meeting with another soul.

Riddling with the kisses,

The vicious perron of Hope -

Do burn out!

The stupored


Of wind -

The grown stiff

Layer of ash

I'll take,

Contract -

I'll go pass

To my eternal rest....


Being delirious

By the despair

I shall burn up

With the nonsense

The whole World! -

The settling tank

Of the poverty's perfection,

The inexhaustibleness

Is spattered with ashes,

The sick old man

Is embracing the madness -

He knows, knows, knows...

Making the palette

From the entire blackness

And pain,

The rejectingness

Is in a hurry.

Oh! Make your brush

More fine -

You see I am alive.


The evening's


Has come in

And is waiting.

I'm crying,

Driving it away,

Frustrating -

It is useless.

It will promote

The black conceptions' castle,

It will shovel -

The past,

It will burn up brightness,

Smooth out the nimbus

And damage my dream.

Stand still!

The cyclic-moan


I'm going out,

Going for the candles....


I want to get cold by the loneliness so much,

But you are bringing me temptations in your hearts.

I am preparing myself to be consumed by supercreativity -

My eyes are blinding up with pins' flirtation in your hair.

I'm sounding the alarm about the Time's loss -

They're offering me the poverty's AIDS.

How not to regain consciousness under the Naivete's tree,

How not to waste my Mind for the Dream and Mode of Life?

Do not bring out the odor of the all-permission,

Don't kill the shadow you don't know whose of.

Travelling all over the infinity Bottom of Conscience,

I'm simply loving each of you as before.


The light was glimmering

That I shall not leave in vain.


My Meaning has been sung out

By the years' layers

Squeezed in the poverty.

I'll heat the Moan

Guilted with the secular

Wastednesses -

A super-chime

Has deafened

The fancy realm

With peals,

I am overwhelmed

By the surmise:

Is Him or is not Him?

Is Him or is not Him?

Is Him or is not Him?..


I have examined everybody -

And what is the result? -

The playhall was converting

The heart-rendingness

Into the good-for-nothing of the humus.

Turning away

The grin of the Eternity,

Became white with frost,

The illusions' ball

Was betraying the life

With the delight,

Having travelled

Over all facets,

Putting together

Forces and dreams

Into the Naiveness

Inviolable with ashes,

I have reprayed the sufferings,

I have bitten through the longings

For my imperceptible crying

To congeal into the Future.

To my mother....


I shall cover with tenderness

Your crisp grave.

There is the vast field

Of the crosses cut off -

I love it.

I shall tear off

The virgin weeds

With the moan:

"Forgive me".

I shall heat your sleep

With myself and the whispering:

"Please. Stop.

Yes. Wait".


I am madly happy -

there is the loneliness.

What I was striving for -

I've already attained.

I do not want to embrace

the Lie of calmlessness.

The Meaning of the life

has appeared as the bottom's ash.

That one is not

in work and wives,

In children

and appointments:

It's only

in the changing movement of Mind -

But let the mortals -

forgive me.


I'm throwing away

The bone to the Fate

For being permitted

To the impetuous city.

Repressing the peace and pride,

I'm trying to set ajar

The cage into the World

Of the dreams distorted.

Do stop the super-moan

Of madness.

Everything -

To be forgotten!

Break up the pain

Of the mind's exhaustedness

Into the drops.

< B> Waste up the empty role

Which has named herself as life.

Do weave

The plaid of the fancy realm -

The wisdom -

From the word's infinity

For not push aside

A Moment into the oblivion's ditch.

Do shorten out

The power of Lie

On the melancholy's weakness.

Please, take me: let

Death - into gladness.

Do sleep -

In remuneration

To become not a mob.

Softening the pseudopassion,

Congeal my yelling -

The last call:

The gaze out of beyond....


The finish is burning -

The conception is melting

You cannot condescend

To yourself from the Bottom.

Farewell the over-fervid world,

Scoffing with the pseudovitality's dream

Near the window of the untouched illusion -

The cemetery-rooms

Are attracting by the Love,

The Childhood and the Natal.

Their anxiety,

The fancy realm of the loneliness,

The Nothing's kissing,

As the smoke of the nonparting,

Allow me to fire through -

It is not successful

To ridden my footprint.

I'm rousing my conscience

With the leafing over of the inside

For not to hear the trivial reply:


is the multidimensional


With the right of going there only

From the clammy


of the passage

Into my yelling lonely confinement

Which is finely connected with the world

By the threads of the soul's

Refined verse-formulae.


The noble riff-raff

Is building the castle on the empty.

The withered humanity

Is soaring o ver the dome

With a cross.

Wasting the caution on the smoulder

Of the imitatedness

Of the oblivion's ice,

Risking to become

An everyday pronoun.


I am existing with the effort of will power

I am not waiting for the kindness and not giving it

I am not pinning the former days,

But I'm not liking the present ones.

I have endured all commotions,

I have become in every of the guises.

I cannot whitewash myself from the dirt's remainders:

Having desired them so much.

I have been so tired to deal out the needless precepts,

To hope for the miracle,

To trust that I will not

Destruct everything again.

But it is not simple to leave myself,

How many times I have tried in vain.

I have hardly lived out the Autumn of Life -

So it is not far from its January.


Our mutual running one into the other is disconsolate,

It is full of rebukes, is craving and tender:

Being jealous we're waiting.

The looked for coast is colored

With insatiableness -

We'll sing in duet the life's cough.

The reveling of dreams is careful -

If not that, who will help

To attain yourself.

The wounds of guiltiness are enticing

Into the brilliant traps

To embrace in a crunch.

I'm praying: for us it's impossible

Not to become the living steel.


Of tears!

Do weave

From roses

The carpet of primordiality,

The fate and blessing!


Everlasting the inevitableness,

Learning, submissively,

About the day,

When the successfulness,

As the pse udosinfulness,

To me appears as the virginness,

I'll filter into the past to tears,

Fighting my soul,

Coloring my pain,

To not burn up,

From life the gathering

Of the unpremediatedness replete,

Of the uncalmlessness wicked -

I'll burn down with prayer,

As the blade of the gibberish,

That World which I have not embraced

By myself.


Burning up the life

Is trampling my Light

In her embrace,

Throwing into the furnace

Of already other's years

The painshed bits amputated

From the soul mutilated.

Oh! No!

The sweet Naivete and the blindness

Will not give back them to the call:

There is the Time's dart-killer -

Who, piercing, gives you more.

It was long ago desired

To yell: "Yes!"

Towards the fetid

Ditch of Dream.

Do burn up now -

It does not matter -

I'll over-bear

The vanishing remainder,

I am exhausted...

I'm hoary with ages...

I'm melted....


The gaze deserted

By the oaths -

She's lying.

The garden, dead,

Of Fate -

I shall sing it

To ashes.

Was it a running start? -

The running in the circle...

The years bars

Are crossing out the light

To be changed into a resilient bed.

The flight's - the fever,

I'll be washed by evil.

Let the flagstaff

Of Past's delights -

Be through and gone.

To be with the needless rhyme

Of Life,

As with the solitary cell

Of dream,


The only Image

Inviolable -

Is pseudonarcosis.

Here is a switch -

The turning...

And so a moment

Has gotten smeared

Over the empty Universe.


The War will soon be here! -

I can hardly breathe onto the Dust's pillow.

The seeds of the Lie -

Continue their atomic explosion.

The country of poverty,

Choking with the memory's sperm once again,

Does pray to learn

When the abscess will be cut to pieces.

The War will soon be here! -

Perversions do blind by Naiveness.

It's not possible to swaddle

The revivals with the follies of blisses.

It's not possible to disperse

The infinite ball of meanings with the blitzkrieg.

The War will soon be here! -

She's the collapse of honour and suffering...

There's a foray of new nobodies....


My soul,

Transparent from the pain,

Has suddenly abated

Near the precipice of years -

It is sleeping


The mad feast

Of the debts

Is stinging to the yell.

Is laying bare,

Rotting my depths.

Oh! No! Nay!

I didn't beat!

And I did not betray!

The lying meaning

Spilling on the motives,

Is laughing

At the wretched:

"Tender is the Night".

I was whitewashing

Anew the tear,

Freezing from power

Of prevision,

And have consumed it

With the Bottom's ray.

Oh! Yes! Yeah!

Refusing, I was waiting....


Do not call to the Past:

It is the frozen statues of feelings.

Do not call to the Past:

The eyelids of memory are

Only trembling to the crunch.

Let no good

Wait at large away from the dream:

The well-groomed

Facade of the lie

Will take away the gaze

From the bottom for a moment.

The worn-out wig of the years

Is pricking the eyes

With the needles of days:

Do not call to the Past -

If you wanna know the Cross over future.


Oh, Body! -

You are the insecure shield

From the unsparing splashes of Life. My soul

Is sickened by Naiveness: the AIDS of depths

Will absorb the aspirations not to the end

And will erect the gravestone of Reproach.

Oh, Meanings which are extorting Lie!

Do not protect the nakedness of the pattern

Of your facelessness. When you understand

That you have taken the regular robbery,

Laughing, the Fate is threatening

With the starvation once again.

Be cold and separate the flying

Of the extortedness and utilitarian passion,

Do not be lost, while comprehending

The ford of fancy realm,

Adorn the dome of heaven

With the supersacrificialness

To melt in them with the unmeltable Happiness.


I'll cut off hatred from sorrow,

I'll be swaddled into the chime

Of the wasted years -

Who needs

The poverty's moan,

Having eaten away the memory?

I'm thrusting into myself

The fatigued gaze,

I'm accusing my depths -

Which forces will caress

And give me to breathe once again.

A moment has been stuck up

Into the grave of moments -

They sicken,

They are living

In those who believe,

That the firs t moment and the last one

Were given for them only.


I live in vain

To speak of gain

About pain

Of my dead brain.

I love meanwhile

The closed file

Of wasteful life

To miss its knife.

I carry stone -

Eternal moan

Of mine, alone,

To hold my own....


You are - my line,

Symbols' handful,

You're - wall to "non-I",

Forgive me again.

Dream's file by bytes

Expels gibberish

Interrupted by moan

Of those absentees.

Yelling, reading tear

Of their despair,

Waiting thunderstorm

Of intersuffering,

I place my cross

On screen to Nothingness,

Stopping Bottom's wrangle,

I transpose text.

You are - my line,

Symbols' handful,

You're - wall to "non-I",

Forgive me again....


I expel my hatred

Into basket for Passion -

Their strange devotion

Vexes night with pseudohappiness.

Escaping to sacrificialness

Of revenge neglected,

Melting goals' bone

With honour wasted,

Grasping lie of flattery,

Affectedness of meanings,

Having died with fast dream,

Taking knife of poverty,

Yelling, passing through

To stolen years' peal by thought,

Reiterating living's moment

By my childhood crushed,

Annoying earnest

With attempts to wash off gibberish,

Hinting into sincerity

To forget tender blisses' life,

Interrupting rally-parade

Of nonsensical myths,

I'm closing shatters into town

Of achievements without reefs.


Pastness jeers at the future,

Crosses are melted by smoke,

Meanings confess in the horrors' ward,

Debt stiffs at uttermost line.

Reiterating my prayer in dream,

I stroll along brightness' outskirts again,

Drink trouble to draft the drawing

Of desperation on heart-rending wall.

Generations are cut off by scalpel

Of volte-faces rotted through with guilt,

Haze's drawing above pseudocountry

Is wiped off by calque of time.

Repainting despair into hatred,

I kneed moment on evil's palette,

Cut to pieces crossroads of words

By treasons of those who knew

without grasping shoots.

Having changed to imprint nonpersonal

On the infinite's arrow to null,

I set fire from the drawing to stars' condour

And return to my bothering role....


Pitch darkness -

Withered candles

Overshadow, from gibberish, plot,

Strange volumes.

Farewell meets

Tear to quanta the dawn

Of seized feelings

Filling with meaning

Prejudging of followed dreams.

Rushing to truth,

I'm being pierced with thought:

In the end everybody betrays.


Instead of her

I melt in them -

My love and word,

And soul's anthem.

Instead of my

Having lived life out -

Nobody shines

From ashes' crowd.

Instead of song -

I cry the End

And pray:"so long"

My inside's land.

Instead of death -

I wait more roles

To play the best

Without goals.


Please do stole me from madness to night.

Oh! My Lord! Be ravaged, lead away

Me along infinite's shoots into twilight,

Into rotted through mucus of Time.

Can't survive evil's vow with lying remorse,

Can not waste that was unknown

How to conserve from Naiveness, imploring

Utterlessness not to whisper me end.

Dawn of mine drags along passing line again,

Predestined by Fate in vain

On the pilfered dreams and idylls:

Dawn of mine - is near lonely star.


Eyes of the Moon - are hazel:

Was so waiting for You evening and night,

Searching the mirage of Pastness,

Endeavouring to surmount the whole of it.

Tear was smelling of alien,

For a moment, filtering to moan,

Deforming the principle to glue

Delight from the sides crying.

Having shivered of strange avenues,

Having wasted the charge to live,

Expelling motif-glumness,

I forgave to wreathe Nothingness.

I made from by-gone tenderness

Your Image, having washed off entreaty

Remains of ailing years,

No powers to comprehend them.

Made currentless by You anew,

I've chosen without trade with Bottom

Profession-pain, the Loneliness,

To consume the volume in time.


Without you - no reasons to live,

Without you - stars are washed off

With yelling of salty tears.

Without you - I don't try to open

Womanly bin,

Sprinkled to smell.

Without you - my Moment cools,

Without you - goals are lost

In poverty of inexperienced caresses.

Without you - I don't look for Fate's thread

Which is cut off longways,

Is eaten by crowd-moth.

Without you - our World can't be drunken out,

Without you - ice-drifting of angry nights

Melts the door into truth.

Without you - "to be" remains,

Not to soothe pain,

To recover, to rise.

Without you - no reasons to live....


I am only funny passenger

Of the train passing Nowhere,

Halts of cold apartments

And fruitless searches have exhausted me.

Forgotten, amusing, anxious

I don't heat the window with breath.

No end for annoying tiring roadsides -

It's bottom of unavoidableness.

Sleeping Earth - is patient cemetery

Threatening with axe-crosses,

Sharp-clawed evil's lightning-paws

Crush my soul into futile cryings.

Hopes are leaven for the moment's wind,

Already nobody caresses my pain,

In my eyes as behind shutters white,

There's endless anguish of life.


Downpour - by window,

Snow - inside me.

Selection of mine:

Let you - Sin.

Fire - to my back,

Sheaf - of betrayals.

Edge - near me,

Stop - of Naiveness.

On my table, list

Of mundane affairs,

Splash of ideas,

Sonnet - has been sung.

Downpour - by window,

Snow - inside me....


I lay guilty's wreath on pseudopastness,

I transpose their portraits - into night.

Paint despondency splash into impossibility

To transform casual strangers - into Daughter.

They are sorrowfully crying for mundane losses,

Joys, caresses and lying dreams.

Irritating with bruises of debts

I'm so tired measuring spiral's coils.

Do not cut the thread of holy frontier to Eternity,

Call of Nothing outstrips in fervour

Of the goals unachieved: unconcern

Of impending words, in which I already was, torment.

Stepping aside from Passion's mirror up to gunfire,

Calming sincerity with exploded ashes,

I hide abandonedness in first test of the thought

That the marriage with my shuttle Fate has broken.


Peeping in my room

Leaves are shunted by sorrow,

Crossing out my living

By heart-rending whispering.

Tossing in hysterics, like a beast,

Letting all confidence - to walls,

I cry "beware!"

To immoderate longings.

They torment my inside,

Insole and call to you -

So many reasons forced

To see or phone.

Covering myself with impossibility

To get closer our past,

I stay to be alive

Behind my face curved by grief.


Do hate your Fate

For losing door

Into disgrace

To wish no more.

Do lay on grave

Of lying smile

Without stay

To close survival.

Do try to fight

With inner sins,

Forgetting light

From wrong way things.

Do feel hot steel

Of coming guns

Perverting bill

By stolen runs.

Do make your brain

Be free from null,

Do sit in train

Of yelling Rule.

Forgive me reef

Of wasting goals -

My last belief

Became a role.


Me not to strive to open file of new relations -

Wall white: you, Loneliness, screen's points - empty imitations.

They say the same, they love as if they drink turned beer,

My bare and hard inside for them is only function m ere.

I'm praying: bill me, God, I'll pay my soul's arrears

Before your long-awaited word-appeal makes me disappear.

Last plot of the inevitable downfall burns low,

My dreams were perfectly betrayed and shot. I go....


Awakening... her alien bed....

I'm sick and drunk,

And full of mad

Emotions, feelings


My Lord! Forgive me -

Set me free

From ugly loneliness

And stone

Of bared reproach less

Than moan.

I saw Trance Window

To the dark -

Its wind was burying

Last soul's mark....


I've quitted living -

What to rush about

On circles clutching with the Bottom?

To whitewash Motive,

To shoot at former myself -

What happens then?

I have begun

To burn my path return

By other people, other goals.

Tornado freezing

Of my crucified soul

Connects two faces

Of the Host.

I've drunk up laugh

By which before

I fed my sickness, breaking

Secretly from them.

I slide towards the Hope

With mouth disfigured by offence.

I've quitted living -

No answers

To forest of reproaches, reasons.

I've quitted living -

Being caught by the Eternal:

My final bar,

My needless verse -

I'm singing still alone...


Next morning I see the incorrect dream:

I am in the Past, fall in love, dearest - alive.

Torturing odour of hands ungentle,

The feast of habitual vices. Knock - suddenly:

She came without permission. Sobbing.

The Fate yellingly p rayed - as one ought. Fever.

The branches of terrible Hope rot behind window -

Split with abyss of losses, I accept demolition,

But only as playing from above, laughing

Converting the maiden-pain into my line.

Next morning I see the incorrect dream:

I am in the Past, fall in love, dearest - alive...


Turning over pages of streets split

Of alien cities' warped bodies,

I asked the Shadow over them swirling

Whence execution of dreams comes.

The meaning bespattered cuts off the meeting

With blows of beggars and lashes of gods:

Next the flight - the sieve of partings

Will sift the remainder of nonsensical words.

I smooth the design of transmutting to tendernees

With hackneyed gestures of mannered days

Not living on negligence of empty sub-texts

For a long time, which is harsher than death.


Anew I make a date for the Past

Having gnawed by crowd countless times,

By the dream of excuses,

Unwearying, warming myself

Over Fate painted by death.

I try to surmount the meaning

On which my soul's space is held,

I writhe in life's dance -

Bottom's flares

Scatter the night of Hatred.

I drink the estrangement's beverage,

Transparent and pestered,

Diluted with ring of tears.

My yelling is absorbed with intimacy -

I conseal the hollow-cheekedness

With the sheet warped by the line.


I'm not a stranger -

I am - a man,

Love - inner changes,

Have - what I can.

I'm not an alien

Among memories -

Searching for spelling

Of supreme tries.

Twisting the spaces

Of different lies,

I melt in traces

Of pain - not to die.


SEMI - 25

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© 1996 by Steven Duplij