SOLEAR-Apokatastasis Panton 1. we have a courtyard made of tale where the lovers lived on her novels lines by miles of parchment papers. with the tears that we shed in the beauty of the sky we awekened by the raven's laughs from our childish dreams of clouds we we'll meet again and scream songs for chain from the lives that we pray for play we we'll meet and fly away we we'll meet, i swear. when we are all over the place of world talking for peace every mammals makes love revolutions in the kingdom made of god's ruinouses used by vibration and friction creates new earthquakes where the end comes with life and every reality made from lie sea of cry makes us smile in the sandglass! cause every desert line will burns us like the sol 2 on a wall of parchment paper has a dream where souls are lost fragment words and feelings tells the poetry of hatred reflections reveal so many lies and acrid feeling laments the moonlight if i can i will live today but tomorrow is my vice a mud skeleton wanders around the stranger moons in an anorexic dream the room's crowded and who's will be the next crumbling one and the first truth will crash the freedom now, every life that i live is a side effect of the wreck now, i'm coming back from the broken mirror the blade is sharp but you get used to it dizzy shadows, algid on the railroad, and the fever i want to know behind the mirror but i'm only familiar with tear i locked myself in a room of parchment paper here, i draw psychological mysteries all the bodies i live inside is torturers and all the faces i see is mirror bell victims 3 meandering death hitting the bells like swallowed dream’s dagger trap where the babies dreaming of daisies they’re all asleep on the thrones made of stones . divinely we cry after we die they invite us to the unsatiety gods’ feast giving births to mud-meat from lovers whose cannot meet . i forgot my name i forgot my brain out there, under the stars where our lost souls smiles at us upon the skies between the gates of truth that we’ve been pushed to be believed ’bout justice they shine for little chess sake’s they shine for wisdom of the wishbone days . when the frost kills the dust aging mothers of the dark begging in pleasure to start the fire dance in the middle of curves of pain pain, the shiny one of the memory they shine for the liberty why they shy from ecstasy? . all the people who wrote this locigalove laments in misery with lone in the cemetary every soul will be broken bone fortune till light and sound find fluent kisses on way back i’d like to fly around your neck cause my desire of love, will never end. 4 the past's footsteps in future's hands will melt all of us, like baby bones we are all fragile in the face of the gap! when a woman loves a man his knowledge leads to break the sand and we ran away mother naked cause the crystal moon, broken mirror and frame of brass lie sorrounds us as moments fly so we are standing slowly and dancing together in the new kingdom's moonlight and we burn the old fear with the night wine after all, the wise woman spoke: you are "the one" my friend the purest vision of all these chaotic possibilities chain the man who's searching for the forbidden apple in the ecstatic fear of hell he falls and falls and drowns in love and children curiously looking each other under the crystal moon they ask: when will this evil play ends? 5 salute! we said where the play ends and the life begins salute! now to the emptiness and nothingness like angels from drunken sailors salute! we said and we share the same hour hand when we kill the vane in bed salute! now let's drink the wine of love and kneel down for the sirens of death. 6 star-stairway backbone of yours like drunken sailors, i draw universes i remember thousands of thoughts that i don't know in years I find lost sketches; on the shore of memories, everlasting 'tasted the coffee of laughter Wanted to hitting the clouds: I give way to the cheeky mob my dark poem rings in my ear your eyes my love, it shines in circus as infinite cosmos from black holes your eyes my love, holy house of narratives formed by us flood of pebbles, my staggering speeches, unvoiced verses ; wants to belong you I'll weave white lilies in your hair; like a memory of a zarathustra memorandum and my hortus, is just being; unidenified desires of 'neutrons i want one last trip made by magic carpet ride and fly to the sea i, the sewing of the universes by your indian silk sentences 7 in your hands; in the feel of your fingertips and the stiffness of your knees. He sees the day, in dreams, The trigger the boy was about to pull; The head of the junkie, As a wise thinker I am in the palm of his hand against his cheek. I am in the sharpness of his elbows, the laziness of his fingers, An image of a cascade etched on broken glass; it trembles and vibrates -to the rhythm of the same footsteps. It says eight bars, Talking about peace, synthesizing love, analyzing the vocabulary of novelists, becoming poetry. A worthless notebook, 'sit in the room of victory and start coal operations on it, waiting for the next -Waiting... waiting... waiting... There is no next ; She gets on her boat and takes her child with her; she draws mandalas in the middle of the sea. She builds monuments that reach to the sky Of easy victories, Offering her knowledge The one in the middle, Not to be together What a lack! What is one cannot be together, The uneasiness of delusion Reflected in the rough walls, He sees fusion and undresses in his mind. What it means to be primitive, naked- unstable prisoner in the dreams of dreams, Without being an enemy of the mind, confined to the door of the heart; between zero and one, imaginations devastated to infinity, Businesslike, crazy coincidences, Patent leather, black, on a lightly spinning floor Dust particles, skin cells The anatomy of a murder, the murder of a thinker. He defeated himself by his own action. 8 Up and down on a dirt road; Carries kilos of weight in double balance A basilisk resembling a ridge and teeth: It brings preconceived notions Human judgment, ideas about gravity, Futile platitudes declaring becoming, Where one becomes one- What is normal? Gravitationally trapped gas and dust The shale-eyed pilgrim, The gray, white and black pilgrim- He wanders among Sol's planets; He doesn't forget Pluto, - little, he doesn't forget the missed Pluto. When he cross the atmosphere and pass downwards: He feels the cold in his bones and freezes, When undergoing hypothermia, you can't help the synthesis Planting flowers by psychoses; and waves a stick at the coming of cyclicality The stick stays in the air, he looks at it: He's already melted He sets off again, through the wormholes He sees quasars, carrying the garbage of the universe He jumps into one, falls into the rhythm of space-time, On the way out, he creates planets; on the way back, he destroys galaxies. A black double circle, its red fibers in a curved texture, in seas of white; scrubbing the observable universe inside and out. What is normal? Should the philosopher covet the words of kings? Which planet should the gods destroy; and which galaxy should he create? Struck by the mischievous sun in the middle of the desert, A psychologist who stops at the sight of Sol: Can he explain absolute acts, resistance and entropy, The descent of the vile fetus called man into chaos? I plow the fields of Akkad, I climb the castle of the god-king, I rebel; disorder in order, "Sargon, the mighty king, king of Agade, am I. My mother was a changeling, my father I knew not. The brother(s) of my father loved the hills. My city is Azupiranu, which is situated on the banks of the Euphrates. My changeling mother conceived me, in secret she bore me She set me in a basket of rushes, with bitumen she sealed My lid. She cast me into the river which rose not (over) me, The river bore me up and carried me to Akki, the drawer of water. Akki, the drawer of water lifted me out as he dipped his e[w]er. Akki, the drawer of water, [took me] as his son (and) reared me." I am starting the war of peace, I make revolutions; I overthrow and topple, I am building cities in the heart of Mesopotamia. The imagination stretching from east of the Euphrates to the Nile The unfulfilled hangover of a fitful sleep, I carry it to Alexander; I pave roads of stone, As a result, I'm rushing towards civilization. The object I knew the day before, Today I can't comprehend it, I metaphorize the institution of being a human being and knock myself over, I must overthrow me and mine -selves and selves; the unrealized you, I wake the flowers; the poppies sleeping hand in hand. I call out to Kaf. TAKE ME! Take me to the humble place of seeing chaos in unbelievers. -to the rock of the supposition, and let me lean my back on the comfort of reason, Let me see who the devil is and when I look into his eyes- 9 middle of our courtyard made of tale we're all little mirror-benders from all over the cosmos, we saw hangers of hatred 'till the end; we fight as soldiers, between love and peaceful death.