deepundergroundpoetry.com
of Donna de la Demetra
by silly twisted dreamer persephonoff, former "una dompna soiseubuda"
Let us build here an exquisite friendship
The flame, the autumn, and the green rose of love
Fought out their strite here, 'tis a place of wonder
Where these have been, meet 'tis, the ground is holy
Ezra Pound
To Tony of land of missing , my ancient teacher, mad mathematitionon music yards..
Now i remember that you tald me of chinese wisdom
How everything in itself is independent and magnificent,
growing of it's middle; i learned the way to chinese 81
With whine wine and exercise on palindromes, we listened to the songs and smiled.
We didnt drunk month on month, forgetting all kings and princes
because i cut with music or rather i i fell in unearthy love to
one pig-headed peacock, who worked moving pictures
like dull virgin in season of hell i left my aniable friends and stop creating my phanopoeia and musical jardim
i blindly came behind him.
To come clother i amplified the long distance in trice
cos i believed Bernard Shaw, that only in long distance via exchange of letters two creature may become closer.
Our fellowship was fretfull sea, where he was supposed to be a capitain and me his "eleven"-helper?; but
since he was sick and depressed, i became capitain, i became nurse, i became trainerand most tiny sister, a concubine..
towards moi Demetra was capricious and whimcy, at once churly and daizy mistress, so that in fact he was for two years my smoogy and cynic wife.
then as younger artist i was always gentleman and treated her kind.
we talked like two ghosts, grasping eachother from half -a word. i recite him greek myths and he rejoicedevery night more and more , untill he reach ability to get up every dawn to write his fairy tale..i read them and got diasappointed . he fehlt i dislike it.
me learned in within two years everything necessary of mobīving picture making, the tastament of orpheous, teorema, mama roma, last of england , wittgenstein, permanent vacation, all with making off issue, were my free-air-academy of film.
After one year on his birthday we rised an agreement
to live and labour together our dadaistic indie short cuts.
it was very solemn talk in telephone, which was prounounceted with grace and pride and was worth of one red ribbon.
since this day i waited him commingto east, i lived in berlin,
and he exveryday said me : tomorro we will begin..
i called his homophone and spoke to him with voices of 49 sisters of ARETHUSA:which excited him mostly but he hqardly ever amused me back. he was boasting of his carriere like a junkie, alike it were some precious virtue.later i also breathed the fimiam of sacred opiats, but just to heil my feelings not to bost everywhere..
his wish were that i "make stranger smile"
when he said it to me, i i cryed, i still cry now and everymoment i remind this notion.he didnt solaced my tears
he actually enjoyed me cryingbut when we finnaly meet he heared me to phon with one guy , just acquintance, anbd he said. O, you are so popular!..so unexplicable jealous thing,in front of all to my ressurective aspiration of dead arts.
i called him DEMETRA, like greek goddess,
he always was so flattered being calling so..
and me, myself forcely was a young man, his co-worker, sojorner, nurse, a lover-my aka was persephonoff.
because demetra was either my canadian mom.
his high and notorious artsdeveoured my low little trials of my deviant antiartslike in this poem of russian poet Alina V. is portrait of my donna demetra :
bride
Something hazy,
gray,
homosexual
was in the swampy chaos of
my bride's bathrobe.
I heard
from heaven:
"She will eat you!
She will eat you! "
I was looking for reassurance
as an existential poet
In matters
like question of
French morbid half-genius:
What will save me? -
the anal integrity of
completely distraught
moneylender?
Old Italian slut,
which appeared as if
from black-and-white porno from the sixties?
And a boy, drooling, with a member cut off,
and knees, concaved inward,
like almost broken,
mechanical grasshopper? ..
I am this boy!
I did not grow up! Do you hear?
Kissing me, do disdain me, darling!
After all, I am full of those drunk
animal depressions.
At the same time -
I remembered
(From inside
I remained to be
amazingly sober) -
I knew
that there is no salvation,
And that she will eat me.
And that God resembles a hunger
of brides like this one.
Let us build here an exquisite friendship
The flame, the autumn, and the green rose of love
Fought out their strite here, 'tis a place of wonder
Where these have been, meet 'tis, the ground is holy
Ezra Pound
To Tony of land of missing , my ancient teacher, mad mathematitionon music yards..
Now i remember that you tald me of chinese wisdom
How everything in itself is independent and magnificent,
growing of it's middle; i learned the way to chinese 81
With whine wine and exercise on palindromes, we listened to the songs and smiled.
We didnt drunk month on month, forgetting all kings and princes
because i cut with music or rather i i fell in unearthy love to
one pig-headed peacock, who worked moving pictures
like dull virgin in season of hell i left my aniable friends and stop creating my phanopoeia and musical jardim
i blindly came behind him.
To come clother i amplified the long distance in trice
cos i believed Bernard Shaw, that only in long distance via exchange of letters two creature may become closer.
Our fellowship was fretfull sea, where he was supposed to be a capitain and me his "eleven"-helper?; but
since he was sick and depressed, i became capitain, i became nurse, i became trainerand most tiny sister, a concubine..
towards moi Demetra was capricious and whimcy, at once churly and daizy mistress, so that in fact he was for two years my smoogy and cynic wife.
then as younger artist i was always gentleman and treated her kind.
we talked like two ghosts, grasping eachother from half -a word. i recite him greek myths and he rejoicedevery night more and more , untill he reach ability to get up every dawn to write his fairy tale..i read them and got diasappointed . he fehlt i dislike it.
me learned in within two years everything necessary of mobīving picture making, the tastament of orpheous, teorema, mama roma, last of england , wittgenstein, permanent vacation, all with making off issue, were my free-air-academy of film.
After one year on his birthday we rised an agreement
to live and labour together our dadaistic indie short cuts.
it was very solemn talk in telephone, which was prounounceted with grace and pride and was worth of one red ribbon.
since this day i waited him commingto east, i lived in berlin,
and he exveryday said me : tomorro we will begin..
i called his homophone and spoke to him with voices of 49 sisters of ARETHUSA:which excited him mostly but he hqardly ever amused me back. he was boasting of his carriere like a junkie, alike it were some precious virtue.later i also breathed the fimiam of sacred opiats, but just to heil my feelings not to bost everywhere..
his wish were that i "make stranger smile"
when he said it to me, i i cryed, i still cry now and everymoment i remind this notion.he didnt solaced my tears
he actually enjoyed me cryingbut when we finnaly meet he heared me to phon with one guy , just acquintance, anbd he said. O, you are so popular!..so unexplicable jealous thing,in front of all to my ressurective aspiration of dead arts.
i called him DEMETRA, like greek goddess,
he always was so flattered being calling so..
and me, myself forcely was a young man, his co-worker, sojorner, nurse, a lover-my aka was persephonoff.
because demetra was either my canadian mom.
his high and notorious artsdeveoured my low little trials of my deviant antiartslike in this poem of russian poet Alina V. is portrait of my donna demetra :
bride
Something hazy,
gray,
homosexual
was in the swampy chaos of
my bride's bathrobe.
I heard
from heaven:
"She will eat you!
She will eat you! "
I was looking for reassurance
as an existential poet
In matters
like question of
French morbid half-genius:
What will save me? -
the anal integrity of
completely distraught
moneylender?
Old Italian slut,
which appeared as if
from black-and-white porno from the sixties?
And a boy, drooling, with a member cut off,
and knees, concaved inward,
like almost broken,
mechanical grasshopper? ..
I am this boy!
I did not grow up! Do you hear?
Kissing me, do disdain me, darling!
After all, I am full of those drunk
animal depressions.
At the same time -
I remembered
(From inside
I remained to be
amazingly sober) -
I knew
that there is no salvation,
And that she will eat me.
And that God resembles a hunger
of brides like this one.
Published 23rd Mar 2015
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