понеделник, 23 февруари 2015 г.

вторник, 6 януари 2015 г.


you are a world
   within a world
      within a world.


in fact,
perfection bows to you.

you are Creation amongst a trillion starborn gods in the drizzling rain of universal nonlife.

your name is Genesis,

      from you
   burst out
all days

      the infinite world
   which you are in
is your creation.

неделя, 4 януари 2015 г.



the v between my thighs
originates from the
sweaty little v
at the top of your upper lip

the v in vagina is the same
as the v in vino


before he erupted in
torrents of mad
rage, anger, fire and ash

v is the most beautiful letter
it exists in a perfect shape
a descent into the Marian Trench
of my slippery mind.


pretend to be french
pretentious is great

french kissing is not enough

french wine does not taste
as french as it could
unless you drink it
with a death wish in the other hand

pretend to be Marlon Brando
Bridgitte Bardo is good as well

ART will never go out of date

you are not smart
unless you can seem to like Zizek
although you’re not sure
if he’s Slovak or Sloven


we lost our bohem princes a long time ago

they died
when absinthe was banned
bohemia dies

as soon as it obeys


i have discovered silence with you

i have discovered myself without you

writing came back to me
i thought you brought it
but it came back
on its own accord

not because you
made my head swell with words

but because I
have unearthed the world

it was buried
underneath you
below your scowl
above your smirk
before you came
and after you have gone

i thought you were a key
to a chamber

you were the chamber whilst the key
were I

the real true meaning
of a world with
six billion humans
is not

to find one human to share silences with

but to share the silence of the world with the one human self


you make me feel

you get up
to leave
i kiss Satan

you scare me
not when you are violent
but with silence
and sighs

with kissing me goodbye
you say hello

you take my breath away

you choke
with your fingers clutching
my throat
my heart
my life

you hit the strings
of your
sore throat
you don’t sing

as always
you know
i’d run away

with the lyrical
of words we fear

You give me nothing but joy.

сряда, 26 март 2014 г.

Destination Number One

by Georgi Kamov

Once again, I am uploading this. I am uploading it because it is the best piece of Socio-Political work I have read in my short and uneducated life, because it applies to Bulgaria TODAY more than an news article ever has, because I am proud to call the man who wrote this a friend, a brother. Because this is the social innovation we all want, we all dream of, and we all need desperately. Because it is not the wishful thinking of a man, barely turned thirty, who naively believes the world can be a better place. Because it is the single piece of work, which I use anytime I need to defend realistic-optimism and the fact that we, who smile in the face of recession and snicker at austerity are not some retarder hippies, but a bunch of people, who refuse to back down when a few graphs start pointing in the wrong direction and more than a few people realistically need work and need benefits, and need help, and in other words need something new to happen to take their social reality in a new direction. Because the spirit of this work is applicable anywhere in the world. 
And, mostly, just because I like reading it.