February 2005

online cultural journal - since June 2004
appears every two months

texts by >> Dan, Ada Ionescu, C., Munir Mezyed
you may also read some poems in English by Ioana Baetica, the guest featured within this issue

chief-redactor: Ştefan Bolea
editor: Sorin-Mihai Grad  

about us/for authors



as one
[in memory of Kurt Cobain & Layne Staley]

build me a temple of withered skin so that I can worship death in the cripple twilight of my youth build me a temple of fading eyes so that I can marry the night build me a temple of light gather wild flowers for my wailing bride then build me a home in the heart of the sun so that I can feel as one

interviewing the president

sunset jaws the pallor of an eastern rose cathedrals sunk in monumental void armies of pink scattered amidst jeweled ruins

the mannequins alive aphrodisiac wolves "vote for us" cried the cataleptic worm the iron curtains play for the dead such a beautiful web... the velvet skull is laughing still all rise


silence the worm for it has cut thru light I found god in the tears of the slain a bouquet of blades and a smile Jesus was tap dancing among the Jewish renegades I demand an explanation "it is all an illusion... " no more pot for the queer call the wolves my dear make no exception

@ Dan


To the Same You

by Ada Ionescu


"Look at your hands child
Destinies grow back to them.
" [F.R.]

The third and the Immortal. Tell me what you want to see. Will you listen to this choir, will you write something for me? Tremble. Shine. Regret. No regret.

I cannot do it. For I am besides your tastes in literature. I do not want to indulge. In lucid reveries. Some hunger for knowledge. Others for the Truth. You will end up believing all are corpses left to lose.

You keep telling me about some movies. The truth is that I do not want to see. Any of them. Any, my sweet so-to-be innocent one. I'm sick of all these. Books and films. I'm fed up with all trends. Manifests. Pictures. Moving pictures. Soundtracks. And, by the way, I smile. I do not laugh. Not at all. Not tonight.

I'm sick of all this age. And the previous one. Of books on fame. And of lovers of the past.

Still you should see the movie.

I burn them all until they're new born again.

Mother's Blood

And you don't have patience or to put it differently, I don't have enough time to manifest. The rest of the things that lay untouched in my veins. And I remembered the butterfly. My dead mother's wings. Once I thought I could use to fly. And it is this very night, you besides. I apart.

Broken cells. Emptied marks. Forgiveness will unveil the drowning One. Philosophy has never been my way. And I've never been hooked on any science games. You keep telling 'bout names. Of books. Of roses. And sacrifice. To die in the name of a labyrinth. Yes, indeed, maybe I DO NOT UNDERSTAND.

Tell me more. Teach me less. Show me nothing. I need oblivion.

Like your mother's hand upon scarred stars. When you really hate sugar. And actually, I hate it too. For in my mind it is linked with any idea of fake plastic life.


by C.

My last nightmare reconstructed: Underwater; lost in a less transitory place, I cannot see the sky, but I remember that the sky is blue, And that Innocence is to be lost forever. Even if there's no choice, I realise We were proudly invited to choose, A few moments after the finish line. Too bad... Unconscious within my memory frames, Pink dogs are running through my head, While shimmering waters are Flirting with my brains, whispering to me That the spectrum of humanity is limited.

Big beautiful birds without wings, Only instincts for flight, disturb my sleep, By sending me fears and pictures Of red skies and you... somehow different, Swirling in my imaginary dead worlds. Apparently, the air is caressing my salted torture, With a non rhythmic solitude breath. For all that, so precious in my wet desperation... Confused, I'm trying to open my tired eyes, Remembering that the sky is blue And that Innocence is to be lost forever. Trying so hard to open my frozen eyes... Now, I am awake and blind like a sigh.

Munir Mezyed

Journey to the Unseen

I dedicate this poem to the great poets: El- Maari, Dante, Milton, Pushkin , Boudlaire, Rimbaud, , Eminescu, Taghour, who made the blind see, the deaf hear, and the dumb speak, by opening the gate of poetry garden where we can pluck the roses of eternity. I hope this poem would be a blessing for those who preach love and peace, a curse for those who beat the war drums.

Avid for the unseen I contemplate. Falling in entrance, My soul becomes in utter ecstasy, Entering the gates of heaven... Wrapped in a celestial lace Embellished with stars, Followed by choir of angels singing, Leading me to the mighty throne... Mesmerized, I prostrate... Feeling tranquility in my spirit, I hear a voice coming out of corona Saying: "I bless thee. Upon thee I bestow my mercy, Exalting thee, Placing thee in heights, Choosing thee Among my beloved ones...! But, before entering the eternal garden, Joining the others... Let thee pass through all the gates, And behold my reward, my penalty, My blessing, my wrath!" Thus my journey begins... Walking Over a bridge of mist Colored with the colors of rainbow, I hear wailing and screaming. Looking down, I see men and women swimming In a sea of lava, Eating magma, Drinking tar... Traumatized, I stand still, Wishing I had wings... Afraid of falling down, I pray... The mist mounts, howls, Encircling around... I struggle but in vain... I surrender. Drowning into a vortex of cloud, Falling loosely into the deep, I find my self in a massive cave Enshrouded, Walled with fire and smoke. Upon the walls, Naked men and women nailed up. I run with terror and fear, Running in labyrinth of crematory With their writhe deafening my ears... A woman in the form of a peahen Appears... I start to follow, chasing her. As fast as she could run, I run faster after her.... When I am about to take hold of her, The feathers scatter around Illuminating... Grasping the feathers, I find my self out On a peak of mount with ivory color With hand full of feathers... Looking for the women, I behold her snowflakes Vanishing ... I look down... The sky is a crimson carpet Spread over a sea... The sun and stars are balls of fire, Burning away. The moon is hearth of dust and ashes Scattered... I glance an isle... I sigh, Saying, "my adoring mother...!" Smelling its fragrance emanating, Feeling its breeze blowing, I close my eyes, taking deep breath... A cry in my spirit, "This is Eden, thy promised garden." My heart leaps for joy... Suddenly, I see people in that isle Sprinkling sands over their heads, Ravens hovering over them. Hence I see Christ on his awful cross Bleeding, Muhammad feeling Mecca to Medina For his safety, Buddha traveling as a stranger, Hungry and weary, Socrates being forced to gulp the poison, Che Guevara being wanted, Chased and hunted... Lorca being cut into pieces Artists trading their paintings For bread, Poets reciting poetry for the deaf... I weep, and say: "This must be a nightmare." But the cry comes back again: "Rejoice, Open thy hand, Let the feathers scatter...!" As I bestrew them, A giant bird stands visible unto me...

I leap over its back,
Ridding it...
As we land,
The bird becomes a woman.
Every thing returns to its visible form,
The sky
The sea
The sun and the stars...
The isle is in utter intoxication,
Pregnant with delight...
Her soil is sprinkled with dews,
Having intercourse with water.
The sky suckles, clothes her.
The sun dazzles her with its golden hair.
The moon inspires her to dream,
To weave tales and myths...
The sea, a dancing hall,
Allures the stars to dance...
Where Mermaids play on their water harp
And nightingales sing.
I pluck a rose,
Kneeling before her, proposing...
Jumping up and down,
Screaming with joy, I dance.
We build a hut to live in,
A temple to pray for God for His blessings,
A boat for fishing...
Living in perfect harmony,
Plucking roses,
Watering, harvesting the fields,
We sing and dance ...
No fear, no tears, no nightmares...!
The devil, feeling jealous,
Inspires the skunks,
The serpents,
The wolves
To bang the drums of hate...
Hence I see light
In the forms of a man
Packing his luggage
Ready to leave.
But, before leaving,
Darkness comes in and slays him.
Thus the gates of Hades open,
The devil and his servants all come out.
Riding on dragoons, armed,
Arrayed with wild beasts,
Led by the devil,
By hydra, by elves,
They cast out their poisons,
And their fire fuelled with hate,
Leaving behind ruins upon ruins.
They burn the sea, the sky....
Slay life, polluting the spirits,
Kidnapping the sun,
Raping the moon...!
I wake up with smoke and ashes,
Crying: "paradise lost...!"
While the face of the devil Ariel Sharon,
The skunks, the serpents,
The wolves, the elves
Still are hunting me!
Yet, I praise Allah for showing me the doom of hell
Which they will all inherit! 

Endymion sings to Luna

I tread on your belief, Grasp madness with my hand And let the birds of my spirit Soar free... "For I long to live in a place Where I can make love freely To my beloved Like birds in the trees..." With patient and skill I weave verses... Thus becoming closer to god... You and I are one... Two embracing lovers, United, Each one completes the other... Soaring eternally together Through the universe... I looked for you every where In cities and towns Museums and bars Mounts and hills Seas and rivers Books and magazines... When I did not find you I started looking to the sky... You appear in the sky With your full brightness Mild and gentle... As you make your Nightly trek across the heavens You see me Sleeping, dreaming of you... You cast the spectrum of love, Your softest and mildest rays upon me Enticing me to dream more happily than ever O Luna,Luna, In my heart you reside Wherein my soul You mingle with mine...

# Romanian translations of Munir Mezyed's poems are available in the poetry section. sus!

©2005 EgoPHobia & autorii
Reproducerea acestor texte este permisă doar cu condiţia precizării sursei.