Άτιτλο

Το κατάχλωμο Ίχνος της επισφαλούς Δόξας πλέκει το επιπρόσθετο Φόρεμα της αυστηρής Παρηγοριάς

Untitled

Ashen Visage of precarious Glory weaves the supplemental Frock of rigor Solace


                                                                                               


Translation

Ensue the ingestion

So much psyched, today, I feel. This slouching dash to the fructuous vast plains of bliss, an egress from the despondent repentant bop I have been affiliated, can only be as forged as truth can be. These small gifts are dilating the yonder, and in conjunction with the salted water spilling therein my dream world, I get hummed with reality, at last! No more cleavings to tweeked past, no fear for the ahead, no sympathy for the devil’s dew. This action of wading inside one’s innermost damnation could not endure for ever. It would, ultimately, procure impairment to the esoteric quintessential. Do I jostle my precious luck, I would say, I do, like an immaculate Acanthus, like a forsaken author being encountering a multitude of scruples down in a succulent lost hope dungeon. Are we all one..? We are all one and each is all… different encoder, same consciousness.  

The Password

The belting of a convulsion

I was hunting him everywhere. He seemed open-hearted, friendly, accepting. Always notorious to mingle. His sister was there. Ten times rawer and desolated at her earnings of discerning the earth-world. She wouldn’t offer if you wouldn’t pose. Only the image of her would form at the root of one’s eye, her eidolon. Then he would, even, state

«Can you, please, go? It’s that I desire to stay alone with the sys…, we will talk later…». He runs away and for a reason, I try to follow, to earn my right back. It is so, damn, difficult for me to accept his denial. Keep chasing him. He has everything not for him to get irritated from anyone’s present. Even on his new boat

«…Can I step in? ...»

«…Nope…», what is that my Gods, this is way beyond that I can apprehend. What’s next. Still pursuing, try to be in the cycle. Hate to be an outcast. And I did well this time, I did everything well. Why is he repelling me. At the specific box, he is the only one I know well. He is postponing it for later, but it is, definitely, fresh than that. I can perceive the summer weather around, the hospitality of nature. Me, feeling alright, in my flesh and bones. It took me a while but for a reason, I’m not satisfied. Another entity is born and will be executed. I built and then I vanish. This is how I grow. This is how I, always, do. Search and destroy.  

«...Can I come on the boat…»

«...no, not yet… I have to perform a couple of destinations…»

Fits and dough

Lodging on the floor, the counterfoil book projected hackings in between the meticulously inked numbers. The entrepreneur sped to the Moorish Tower to get acquainted with the lunatic woman, the one he would hire to become his toddler’s nanny. When he attained, guess what he saw far at the stoop.

Can you dig that

The reluctant foreman had superposed a groggy trench coat on his shoulders. He was doodling in an attempt to excite his fancy. His intellect was crawling for new conceptions to emerge. How tranquil would it be to untangle an arsonist’s docket. He was breathing gnarly after having swilled half a bottle of bourbon. The eyes were twitching and the eyebrows in constant convulsion. Who was the valet and who the delinquent. Dismay filled his heart. From the window, the strays were strolling and the leaves were caressing the ground

The prevail of the artifier

That was hilarious. Can’t famble any words to protrude my dodder. I conceited it was about to plop as a tweedle but it emerged like a kingpin. The pangs of terror sheared my smugness and hence, I have been trialling to atone by fleecing any ghastly qualms which in turn, vehemently gnaw, like hunger does, the opposing discern. I want to plunge a rigid hacksaw blade on a large cylindrical hilt in an, upholstered with subtle fleshy walls, ego.

χρονικό παράδοξο

δύο προγραμματιστές, ο Xamoura A και ο Xamoura B γράφουν κώδικα. ποιανού ο κώδικας ειναι πιο παλιός;

Ο Δαιμόνιος Καθαριστής

Το πνέυμα επισκέφτηκε το σκοτεινό υπόγειο, εκεί όπου καθόταν με ένα διαρκές χαμόγελο, ο ποντικός του Δρόμου Ντέβονσάιρ.


ΠΝΕΥΜΑ: Πως πάνε τα πράγματα εδώ; Βλέπω, έχει αρκετή υγρασία, αλλά η θερμοκρασία δεν είναι ιδιαίτερα χαμηλή. Οι ξεχασμένες αισθήσεις μου διακρίνουν και πολύ αμαξομάνι, απάνω στον περιφερειακό


ΠΟΝΤΙΚΟΣ: Έτσι πέρασαν τα τελευταία δύο χρόνια, με τη μόνη διαφορά ότι η θερμοκρασία ήταν ελαφρώς χαμηλομένη. Πολλοί μου έχουν πει ότι μοιάζω με την καρικατούρα του καλλικάντζαρου. Παρόλα αυτά, είμαι ευχαριστημένος


ΠΝΕΥΜΑ: Επέτρεψε μου να διακρίνω άλλο, για τον λόγο της παροντικής σου ευμάρειας


ΠΟΝΤΙΚΟΣ: Δεν έχεις άδικο, είμαι ιδιαίτερα ευχαριστημένος γιατί επίτέλους, κατάφερα να δημιουργήσω αίσθημα αυτοσυντήρησης και συλλογικότητας στο σπίτι που βρίσκεται ακριβώς από πάνω μας, αυτό με τις χρυσές κουρτίνες, αν υπέπεσε στην αντίληψη σου


Οι άνθρωποι που μένουνε εκεί, πλέον, διατηρούν το σπίτι σαν ναό, σαν παλάτι, πεντακάθαρο, που λαμποκοπάει το σπασμένο πλακάκι

αίνιγμα

σκληρός-σκληρός καλόγερος και κόκαλα δεν έχεις. τι είναι;