Thursday, July 11, 2013

Volodymyr Bilyk. Rag 'bout Vispo in Aye-Eye-I parts

There was a text. 
But no one 
payed attention to it. 
Nobody cared for just another text.
Why should they?
It will not change their lives or styles or opinions.
The only thing they'll do with - just fill the sloth of spare time.

The face of the type 
turned heavier and heavier 
time after time 
and still 
no one payed attention to it - 

until the text 
had made the
null and void.
"Now that's what i call fucking!" says imaginary Warren Beatty here.
Bubbles fly from the Shampoo
Bugle spreads the angry rag

Let's put this thing straight
now one ever gets satisfied by the result
especially when you're not the creator but the one who perceives.
That's why there's not much mr.Gaudi around
That's why there's nothing left of comrade El.
But here, in poetry - this very strange and somewhat obscure reaction is turned up the eleven.
It's almost inevitable.
And so it goes
in not very complex size.
'cause no one loves the waltz - 
so every move is marching with the wittery and cough.

But for the moment - let's imagine the world - where nothing's made and there's nothing to expect.
Pyles of constructing materials all around - do what you want - but do it so that nobody will ever be impressed by it - only notified of it's existence. 

Doesn't it remind you something? Oh, that's the world we live in. Here are the words. Combine them every way you want. Here are the arrows - they'all ease your quest for this so-to-say unforgive-gettable fire. And wait a minute - that table was the wheel - where does go? Bring it back, if possible on the plate, bring back as you brought that Leroy Brown, bring in back...

You can almost hear
this poems says to you
"it's your fault, motherfucker, it's your fault -
you're wrong, every time and you're so free -
you're vicious and you're so wrong that
"world expects a man to buckle down and to shovel shit".
And this all happens because you wanted to "feel" and "only wanted to be loved".
'cause you're bland, dull, boring nothing of the void. Zilch and Zero - Double Z.
Marvelous Ultimate Vacuum. Move over Beat Hove When World Weary is in the house.
No one understands, nobody cares.
But still everybody's thinking that some "strange kind of love" makes the world go "round and round". "World in motion", voice of the being from the "Higher Ground"s says: "...keep on leanin', ...keep on warrin', ...keep on turnin' won't be too long".
But the reaction is - "go take a shower, boy".
And the answer is "pray to the Holy Ghost when you suck your host."

You know what Lime have said to Martins before he said "So Long".

I don't remember who exactly cast that spell:
Andy Warhol or John Cage,
-heinz Stockhausen or -bert Indiana,
G. Klimt or Erik Satie - it was: 
repeat the thing until it loses every piece of sense it ever beared
on this "Long and Winding..." "...Hard Road out of hell".
But what happened i can only presume.

So -  
here it is.  The Sentence. Good and clean-cut. It states something and it stands for it to the end. 
Look closer - just like when you tease the beauty to show the other side - look closer - 
First it seems to be moving,
then it seems to be trembling - 
and in the end it's just the crowd of letters waiting for the miracle

it's just the crowd of letters who demand :
- something to be broken
- something to be mirrored
- something to be marooned
- something to be tortured
- something to be controled
- something to lie aside
- something to be ordered
- something to be cracked
- something to be fucked
- something to drill a hole in the wall which is actually a centuries-old tree
- all for approving itself as the coherent whole.

And as it usualy happens - 
then they go -
in every direction you can ever imagine
there, there, there and there and even there and also there - 
just like the big bang - and the universe happened,
shit also happens
for a start - and there's a bigger need to measure all this jazz
But it lies over the top of the threshold of the unmeasurable and unbearable treasures of mankind 
that survived a certain kind of suffering only to achieve the title which hints on obvious fact of self-explication and self-reimagining in depend for the glory of the not bright line which will be never reached.
I wonder what that means. Somekind of repent for the wasted time.
And lots of Oh No No, No No No (is that a Transformers guy punchline? oh, forget about it).

So this crowd does what can be called "get lost"
they run away
and they hate it
'cause who loves the breakups?
They had a good time together
but now they have to go
they want to disappear
they want to cease to exist
their forms are getting tighter
 their senses getting thin
and don't forget about the flies flying all over them
althrough they still move - there are colonies of them around and that sound (so annoying)
and it seems that their movement is just the dream
They're still
They stand still

Thats what happened, 
I presume - they dissolved
to wander where no word had gone before
Nothing actually happened.

It's all right. Every is going fine. Swim until you feel the terror caused by pleasure just to realise you're in the box where you're up to know yourself more than you are used to know yourself.
It's just someone mean
had morphed into the kangaroo
and started to punch you
using it's powerful legs
You can hear from him
- you gotta fly away, man, 
you got to do what i say to you, this time it's getting lost by raving without a clue because of the spellbounding discovery.

The purpose is to write off something
and to drop it off - 
To blow the head off
as many times as it's possible -
it coaxes the one who's top you're blowing.
or is it better to tear off all the upper the part of body - all at once 
for sure

Let's do it
On the corner 
In a silent way
of the missionary position
of the Da Da Da
where (I don't love you - you don't love me - aha aha aha) lies

Put it on your back
- it'll break up anyway in the near future
There - on your future back - your shadow gonna kick it
First it'll kick the knee
Then it'll punch the stomach
Then you understand - you can't bear it anymore 
but you  can handle it
And drop it
And the thing you've dropped falls and kicks it's chin against the land of the fee.
How pitiful is it?

There was nothing of it - but you thought there was - but there was none
But here come the lack
and because you're used to care - "things have changed" - 
The only thing there was now - was the problem
- the problem coming from the both sides now
only to be shot
on the run to the outside of everything
and then it jacks off the wounded knee and rubs them against its chest
then it takes it to mouth and holds it there 
so long you can make a statue during the take.
Hair can grow and hair can go during that take
and still - knee in the mouth
"a worried man with a worried mind
no one in front, no one behind"

Will you drink from your lap or you're just fibbing?

Years ago
someone was about to make you his bitch
someone was about to make you suck it down
and you know - you blew it.

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