Eye of the Darkness

Category: Uncategorized

  • Sellphi

    Humankind

    Nothing described the humans of 21st century

    Better than a selfie

    By the light of one

    Nuke

    Reflecting a herd 

    Of blind

     

     

     

     

  • Ground Zero

    After 38 years of denying her dream
    She opened her eye 
    Reaching
    Finally
    Ground Zero
    Yet her hero was nowhere
    To be
     
    Found❤️

  • Trinity

    … the room was bathing in a mellow light, embracing the dark trinity breathing separately, reading, when Father’s dreamy voice broke the silence, whispering-
    -Terra, you’re healing people…
    -What? Why her?? She’s literally nothing, a stark dot of nothingness, in nothingness,- erupted into vehement protests the deeply spiritual first born.
    -Because once you pause and zoom in, you can be aware of colours, 
    sounds, 
    smells, 
    flavours, 
    forms
    Love in its original silhouette

  • The scent

     
    Of three peonies and one coffee 
    Embraced the fresh air
    Of two morning windows
    And one evanescing V
    Of fifteen geese 
     
    Noting one 
    Adult 
    Male 
    Full of sorrow
    That of an orphaned child
    Sleeping alone 
    In a large house overflowing with people
    Hugging 
    The icy chill of his once homeless nights
     
    One van 
    Sharing the honeyed pastry
    With the driver and his son
    Pausing the time
    Of two crossroads
     
    Joined by one
    Giant father 
    On his way to school
    Holding the hand
    Of his elfie daughter
    Gingerly
    With pride
     
    Followed 
    By seven ravens 
    Of satin feathers
    Ravenously ripping
    The leftover corpses
    Of the idea
    Of once Great Britain 
     
    Passed by one 
    “guy” 
    Roughly the age of the crown and ‘heart
    With two shoes
    Large enough
    To fit his soul twice
    And also my inappropriate wonder
     
    Despite the one
    Constant migraine
    Refusing to let go
    Knocking 
    With a force
    On the door
    Of one impatient
    Coach
    Blocking 
    One pelican 
    Crossing
     
    Resulting in my first words of that day
    To myself
    “What an Rsall”
    To him
    “What are you doin’?! It’s RED!!!”
     
    Eye bellowed
    Just like an insane poster up above
    Claiming
    “In the age of light darkness arises”
    Screaming
    FAKE
     
    For the light
    Had its way
    To touch
    Even the Nite
     
    Pulling her gaze 
    Off the ground
    Anchoring her
    In nothing
    But 
    The gloomy clouds
    For some
    For her
    Behind a tattered web of dark threads
    Dusted
    With myriads of shimmering stars
     
    Melting the skies
    Into honey drops
    Caressing
    The delicate green babies 
    Of one ancient pine
    Bathing 
    In a heart 
    Of one twilight
     
    Being the breathtaking background
    For the silver lining 
    Of two wings
    Singing 
    The graceful silhouette 
    Of one seagull
    Into the existence
     
    Painting the veils of apricots
    Onto the powder 
    Blue canvas
    Printing the embarrassed letters
    Of one blushing maple 
    To hundreds 
    Of mosquitoes 
    “Leaf
    Leaf!
    Leaf!!!”
     
    That’s when she realised
    The stabbing pain to be completely gone
    Feeling
    Nothing
    But that indescribable non-touch 
    Of her long lost friend
    Feeling its presence 
    Dancing all around her
    Insisting
    On something
    She intimately knew
    Years ago
     
    “Em”
     
    Unable to tame 
    A soft smile out of the blue 
    She remembered 
    “…first you slow down your steps
    Breath
    Hearing
    Sight
    Will follow
    That’s how you meet the silence”
     
    In a rustle
    Of one tangelo fox 
    Tiptoeing ‘round
    Not noticing her
    Being preoccupied 
    With proudly carrying 
    its Sainsbury shopping bag
     
    The same sound echoed 
    In the wings 
    Of two raven thieves 
    Stealing carmine rich cherries
    From one 
    Summer 
     
    “already??”
    Her sudden tear whispered
     
    Mirroring her Dad
     
    Asking
    The true reason WHY
    the flowers had to close their eyes 
    to see 
     
    True nite

  • Dream serenade

    2/6/24
    Was listening to serenade last night
    And so I spent the morning drowned in Grúň’s songs
    Thinking
    about this vast universe
    Filled with myriads of clusters
    of flowering galaxies
    Wondering
    whether my only daisy
    will remain
    to grow
    strong
    Or whether the ocean of the influence
    of the others
    will lend the kinetics to its petals

  • The Antarctic eye’s sheet is melting…

    “The Antarctic ice sheet is melting. And this is bad news for humanity”
    They said
     
    And so eye looked 
    at the mentioned 
    Thinking
    of
     
    Covid 
    In 2020 trotting along
    And a few
    who realised
    The epidemic of whistleblowers 
    would go on
    and on
    Casting the light on never questioned
    Therefore accepted
     
    Murders
    in East Ukraine
    Yemen
    Syria
    Palestine
     
    On human narcissistic obsession 
    with ferity 
    and sadism
    Seeing the world 
    through the prism
    of heartless
    chosen
    “Deity”
     
    Many blamed the universe
    The God 
    or Evil
    The design itself
    The present Yuga
    or the one living next door
    The velocity of time
    Or the so called “spiritual awakening”
    And much much more
    Of their own distorted self reflections
     
    All the while
    true reason 
    got a chance 
    To breathe 
    in
    Tears
     
    Of one
     
    Frozen heartbeat

  • It’s mine…

    People complained
    People cried
    People yelled
    People fought
    Their never ending wars
     
    For 
    The right term
    The right echo
    The right info
    The right morals
    The right side
    The right view
    THEIR rights
    Their life
     
    Refusing to see
    What was left
    Therefore 
    Unnecessary 
    Did belong
    To the wrong
     
    And it all began in childhood, when one failed to CORRECT THEIR OWN understanding:
    -…and this is mine, Lipo…
    That’s when Emma’s eye zoomed in, insisting:
    -But, Slavka! It’s mine! 
    -Yes, that’s what I’ve just said, love, it’s mine.
    -No! It’s mine! It’s my lunch!
    -Em, you’re just repeating what I keep saying from the beginning- it’s mine. Here you go…
     
    Yes, you could call the issue the RIGHT term, you could be the 100% echo, you could speak about the very same issue as somebody else, and despite all of that, there was no grounds for The connection or a dialogue, if one lacked 
     
    The understanding…

  • On one’s way home

    “….on the way home, it was impossible to ignore the change in “them”- the subtle was viciously turning into obvious. 
    Dry coughs entangled the bouts of sneezes, the hollow tap-rap of crouches, canes and limping, was creating an eerie melody echoing in the thick haze of fatigue.
    Suicide pedestrians kept challenging insane drivers, every couple (no matter the age) was discussing nothing but the health, each of them walking light years in preservation of their personal space and opinion, with zero respect for the other. 
    And so it made a perfect sense the fighting clubs kept springing up all around the city of London like fly agarics.
    It was only four years ago, when I travelled by the very same train, accompanied by the very same people rushing home from work. With closed eyes I could dive unnoticed into their conversations of many topics, or just listen to specific sounds of the train, following my own thoughts. 
    Eye could walk home, down the lit up pathway of family houses, bathing in silence, or melodies of many eras and countries, complemented with laughter and children’s voices. 
    Not anymore.
    There was nothing left but yelling. On the busses, trains, planes, at the airports, stations, in the shops, hospitals, schools, homes, streets.
    The defenders of the insanemanmade rules upgraded by ten levels. 
    Fellow pedestrians turned into kamikaze walkers by, seeing nothing but their highway. 
    My friendly neighbour (who, would be over the moon I’m using his exact words), decided I needed a saviour, since he was depressed, and eye still refused to see the world in a positive way despite the contagious worldwide covidpositivity, (bad bad bad, unfriendly Slavomira).
    Seeing him, after eyeing up this blinding bright cherry tree (echoing to me in petals a surprised quiet voice of one white angel from 20/11/23. “He is still able to walk??” I did not understand her surprise back then, still learning the true meaning of her words that very night.), proved to be a rather difficult task, since his usual question “How’r’ya?” got answered.
    “There’s still war in Ukraine, and my father is dead today just like he was yesterday. So how am I supposed to be?”
    He offered his knowledge of evil Putin destroying the world, followed by his empathy, since his dad died 15years ago, so he knew 100% what I was feeling.
    And yet I was talking about British government tickling the core of a nuclear war (media don’t say any of that, how am I supposed to know?!), just as I was not talking about his dad…
    “Did you have to kill him too?” eye asked.
    “No, what… why would you ask such…”
    Yes, the world is full of zombies to be. And full of friendly neighbours, who may decide you need to be saved, without actually hearing a word dropped by you. Since all they can hear is their own understanding of an event, just as all they can see is nothing but their experience…

  • The well

    Once
     
    There was a well
    Of waters crystal clear
    Inspiring
    Refreshing
    Pleasing
    Not owned by anyone
    Still belonging
    To everyone 
     
    Decades went by
    And one I of us
    Woke
    up one morning
    Still dreaming
    He was 
    More 
    Much much more than anyone
     
    So he did
    What no one even dared to think 
    before
    He stole the well 
    From everyone
     
    Unconcerned
    Uttering nothing
    But a mere 
    Well🤷‍♀️
    Since the well
    Wasn’t owned by anyone
     
    Complaining 
    Only years later
    When our taps began to run dry
    In the Land of parched
    “Thief! It was our well, our sanctuary, our life!
    Evil! To hell 
    with him!”
     
    He laughed, pouring the water down his burning throat, spelling-
    “You sold her.
    To me.
    Yes, it belonged to all of you.
    Yet it was not owned by any of you, 
    so you still dared to sell, 
    to make a damn cent.
    Nazdravie Priepasné…”

  • Touch

    -… you know, my cats, they can see even in the dark…

    Eye blinked in the darkness, following the origin of her voice, and asked with a half-smile.

    -Do you know who else can see in the dark?

    -Who?

    -Darkness.

    -Darkness?

    -Yes, the darkness herself. She perceives everything. Every little thing, even that light, capable of seeing only the darkness. Still, wouldn’t one say the light itself must be a blind puppy, a blind newborn? Since wherever it looks, there is nothing but darkness. The darkness, which it refuses to touch, believing in its own preeminence 😑 Resulting in confused people flowering, fruiting chimeras…

    -Monsters??

    -Foolish stories about the blind man, who could see, with his heart.

    -And the darkness was different?

    -Not different. It was capable of true touch, speaking the only language of the heart…