The Love Song of Lazarus Imsanlucius Eponiafrock

Hokisna donum I shosama yona hokisna muchim lusim formamain
thista awsamara harikenadi enta iminam hartsimsi I itim onlisan
megnetaisama iminim aquan totum flowinia entotum an haistimsi

lunataidim sarklisamain yona entotum an sonarlusong enta
mauthsoo ofso tham gashramain rivaranium risuamain
totum tham osanoma ofso lusim itim yona arim! Itim yona arim!


Let us bell the feet, Alpha and Omega,
When the esplanade is melting in moon light
Against the glistening mist over the unrestful rising sea
Unlike daily bloods on the aprons of beer-face-nurses
Let us walk through the sure bloom of silicamond radiance
The restless rebound
Of the tangled up tight-nights of despair or drinks
And of made up cheap champagne-myths
And the clichéd feel-good dead fishes
Where streets that run like dark banana skins
Waiting to take us all in a free fall of doom
Of no rise up of incisement or intent
To lead you to a Himalaya-question:
Yes, oh, yes, do not forget to ask: ‘What if?’
Let us just go and grab and sip our visit


In the King Midas market people buy and sell
Talking of ghosts and demons not Sistine Chapel


The dark bird-pooh-map on car-bonnets on Barking Road
The winter’s dust-bayoneted smoke rises and risks a response
Dead seed falls back broken like Jack’s Bean’s Stalk on stalking evening
Lingering in the breath of the shadow of recounting the magic of the origin
Let just dissolve upon this areal river through the crack
With a duo-flight with our torch of touch in December night’s disk
Mark some teacups with eponium touch and cascade in sleep


And indeed time, will there, roll
For the dark bird pooh-map on car-bonnets on Barking Road
Dead seed falls back broken like Jack’s Bean’s Stalk on stalking evening
There will be time, time there will be
To prepare make up to make up with made up faces
There will be time to mark and make
And time for all that shape ups and numbers in fingers
That fountain into questions on your palms
Time for Alpha and time for Omega
And time yet for hundred inkissments
And for a hundred drafting and redrafting
Before the taking up of the tea-walk


In the King Midas market people buy and sell
Talking of ghosts and demons not Sistine Chapel


And of course there is to be time
To ponder ‘Not if but when and how?
Time to bring back and ascend the sky
Even when a bald-spot grew in the bare lawn of my lost hair
(They will say: ‘How, bare his roof is looking!’)
My marked suit, still mounted tightly to my shape
My you-choose tie and modest but it has a song-like glow
(Even when they will say: ‘But how his scarred arms and legs are failing!)
And yes, without asking
I will disturb the peace of the Universe
In a minute I will reverse the time
For an Alpha and Omega rise


For I have kwon it all already, lived them all
Have known all events of times and their shapes
I have refused to mark out life with bent tea spoons
I know the voices dying without a dying scream
Out of the spread of all the markets
And yet I always dared and will presume


And I have loved the eyes already, loved too much
The eyes that fix one in a foreseeable magnificence
And when I am found in the spread of the shape and I am rising
And when I am being drunk like silver-moon-light-wine
Even when I am pierced in the middle with a knife
When I am stuck and bleeding on the table
Even then I will presume
And I know where to begin

And I have seen the arms already, known them all
Arms that wrapped in bare accessories dried dusty dates
(But in the club-hub-dub drowned in sweaty lights)
And the smell off dresses
That made me dive out
And even then I will presume you
And I will always know how and where to

Shall I say, I have walked through light-livened streets
And watched the smoke making your heart in white in the sky
Of lonely cloud-roses like my heart leaning towards you

I should have been a Forest Ranger
Breezing through the grass like dew wet rays across moonlit mist


And the time after morning, the time following dusk, forms peace a flower
Woven though fountain-fingers of magnetism
Sleeping--- napping or closed-open
Like you on the carpet here beside Alpha and Omega
I shall, after the car and cakes and running a-mock
Have strength to frame the moment into a bloom
Though I have bled and swallowed hunger, wiped salty water and prayed
Though I have seen my head (reaching out to slight boldness) on the market stall-plate
I am no Jesus- and here is no great fete
I have seen the moment in the crystal in condensed water in frost-icicle the road-end
And heard the call of being called back any-soon
And in an i-space of time I was a bursting bubble


And would it have been merry, after everything
After the breathing songs of tides, rides of cars and roses
Among the imsleys and crocuses, among some sonar connections between Alpha and Omega
Would it have been merry
To have caused tears off the matter with a bite,
And thrown the residue towards an overstanding question,
To pose: I am the Lazarus, came with life
Come back to tell you- to tell you—to tell you-----‘
If one, placing the pillow bellow her hyacinth head,
Should with universe-whole-eyes weaving out say: ‘’Tell me, do tell me, please tell me!’’
But I shall not do any such thing at all


And would it have been worth the time, after end of all the time’s ends
Would it have been worth-the-wrath- of seething life
After the collections of sunsets and the hearing of the dooryards and the rivering streets
After the poets and after the songs and the sleepless nights along the silent dunes
And this and much added to more
It is impossible not to just say
I mean the songs and the coming through and storms in the myths
But the magic lit a candle-scape in the shape of the universe in your face
Would it have been worth the bleed and beats?
If one, placing the pillow bellow her hyacinth head,
Should with universe-whole-eyes weaving out say: ‘’Tell me, do tell me, please tell me!’
But I shall not do any such thing at all


No, I am not like Macbeth, nor did I want to be;
Am just a pauper collecting gifts, one that will
Just be a slight light right night flow, write or sing a scene of two
Advise not any prince and no doubt he is no easy tool
Difference of elements equates him, glad to breathe
Profound, pondsey, and pulsating
Full of imsleys but like the letter x
On occasions, indeed, almost impossible
Almost, at times, an insane wind

My body ages! My body ages!
But I shall not wear any short measured clothes pulled rolled or scrolled

Shall I part my hair or spread? No, and I will always eat my silk redereen apple
As always I shall wear my white trousers and walk upon the sand of my beach
Where I heard and forever hear my mermaid sing and singing

I do not think she will cease to ring me, writhe me and sing for me

I have ridden my horse of wind port-bound over the misty ocean-waves
Combing the fragrant hair on white cliff-tops of foams
When the wind rests on fallen foaming aqua sheets of waves on the gold feet of the sands

We have lived in the coral cavern of the night-ocean
Fed by songs of the writhing sea-weed clasped green
Till time’s eternal lamp stops disturbing us we drink

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Candle Spires


As I was re-reading Emily Bronte
In the wuthering heights
Of Yorkshire silence in a London night

I travelled into deeper a space-time labyrinth
Than Bronte’s epic fiction
I journeyed to a different galaxy knowingly unknown known a space opening mouth-bloom


The bathroom is coloured
In soft a bright darkness
Where two pebbles speak
A tongue that connects
Light and dark in a grammar
Of something bigger than magnetism


I walked into the misty moonlit valley
And there flowed my dream
Of two quivering lips of long ago and the moonphosphorescent figure of lights

Calling a name my name breathing it out
Under the moon I ran to locate
The enigma the galaxy that came down longing in her voice like the moonmist

In the bathroom three candles burn
Candle-flowers they stand
Tall vines of lights longing
Forming three light-spires to reach heaven
Thin cold blue at the base of the lights
The white lights rise in soft pollen-glows

As I finished reading and prepared to close my eyes
I put the book down gently on the table
Mindful so much not to disrupt the candle

I was in the valley following the call
The moon lit night and the silver-grey Venus
I raised my rose-head to put the candle off

In the bathroom the wax flows in gentle heat
Hot enough to make them bloom
They burn as though living prayer-vines
Straight as lines but floral they spread
A glow of moon lit moisture of summer vines
I look and listen to the pebbles now singing


As I went near the lights of the candle and blew
My pushed out air came back to kiss me
To wake me up to wake me up to wake me up

Back into a London night of some time frame where
Candles no longer sat on the table and I switched
To switch off the lamp before I entered into my closed eyes

In the bathroom I close my eyes
I take in the candle lights three
And form two little light-spires
Two little light-vines and one little song
And I sing and now I am in the space
Where the Universe speaks only in candle lights

Between the pebbles my song now a bridge of a singular serenading wax of lights’ tears
Over the river flowing through my palms
And the bridge now ties in two banks of longing separation in a fire-silk knot
Through time-space myth and it engulfs the geographic linguistics into a new morphology
Of bringing the kite home into a beginning of a formation
A choreograph now rages like the blood in my wuthering heart on all seasons’ stage
And the dance now a bloom when my eyes are closed watching my pupils sleep!

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The Universe Song


I want to sing
Like a child like a child like a child
And build the base of a house with singing storks
And stroke and stoke and strike and sing

I want to sing
Like a man like a man like a man
And build the base of a Tahmahal with light’s knights and Tudor Roses
And rinse and run and ride and slide and glide and sing

I want to sing
Like a postman like a postman like a postman
And build the base of a yellow envelope with waiting room’s pining lights
And run and reap and risk and ripe and ring and sing

I want to sing
Like needles and brooks like needles and brooks like needles and brooks
And build a field of gold with mountain rains and valley shine grass
And dance and dive and don and dive and rise and risk and sing

I want to sing
Like a bell like a bell like a bell
And build an Island with sonar pearls and golds and frosty silver webs
And slide and slither and sip and sol and sing

I want to sing
Like the wind like the wind like the wind
And sing round Daphne under the shining moon in bloom of light and dark
And drink and rink and see and sol and sing

I want to dance
Like two light-made-living vines living vines living vines
And build my sonar diamond shape on the face of the circle of smile
And weave and writhe and write and sigh and sip and sing

I want to hold
Like the Matterhorn like the Matterhorn like the Matterhorn
And let the shape rise beyond the sky as a song on the lips of lights
And leap and reap and ripe and run and ring and sing

I want to be
Like a child like a man like a postman like a human like a flow like a glow like a bloom
And build the base of the house of notes of the universe
And rise and fall and stroll and bite and beat and heat and sit and sip
And sigh and sing and ring and rise and fall and sing and ring
And rise and fall and rise and fall and weave and writhe and sip and ring and sing


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The Tale of Indus

Before I became India’s eyes I was in the hard-cold
Unforgiving Europa’s heart from where onward
I travelled for sustenance towards the Indus land
Where there were others who I did not like much

There I was with the scriptures and powers of gods
And there I claimed my prize and settled in on top
Of all the darkish underdogs all falling in line quickly
I claimed India’s eyes and ears and installed an Arian

Soul in the valleys of various textures, vines and virtues
All was Indian Arian: the robust roost was thumped
I was there spreading all kinds of things Arian aurelias
I called the shot cooling and cajoling with gods’ grace

But be the story told I was not anywhere near Europa
When I was living in the heated hard hearth of Africa
From where I moved with a burnt out jacket before
Ice hit us in our dark bodies and eyes we became cold

Time’s breakfast-lunch-supper later we began to shred
Our jackets and had a lot of practice killings about things
That we could not resolve in our previous chords and
Discords we began to be Arian all over Europa’s body

What has not changed is this: we keep moving by the
Magnetism of food and in search of easier weather
We have always been what we made up to call our call
Yet we are not near what we ever could have become

In the filth of slimy slaughterhouse of made up tales
We are the end of lights and a bunch of benign bigots
Wherever we are we are drinking thick blood and bones
Leaving the dawns to dawn heating our hatred’s pools

Yet the kiss of sun in a different temperate topical phase
I lost my shine of Europa’s bless where new Arian coats
Grasped the body of my kin and kith who began to show
What I sung to Indian myth before she gave in caved in

Wherever I am I am not what I am but what I make believe
I believe in my price I fragrance my nasty smell and hide
My claws of hatred and ignorant imbecile misguided look
To life and the earth forgetting I shred jackets like snakes


Always to suit me to clothe me to keep me safe cold or warm
Depending on where I reach in the search of physical heat
There is nothing that I like but make hell and kill all: singing
Ignorant I am like to live in a rotten dark well willing blind

Wherever I am I like to I feel the frills of comfort’s clasp
Not knowing how deep the constant pull-push of Earth
Changing my shape size and colours that’s a live response
To protect me from heat lights dark rays of the sun and sol

Hence in Africa my look is one in Japan I become Nipponic
And in Europe I lark in the pale while in India I dye in henna
In Tibbet my tiles are toiled in less pressures and more cold
In Australia my noah’s ark is made differently than Nigeria

My eyes ears nose head hold and length and breadth all shape
Up like literal clay made vase cup or a cupid bow and arrow
I look exactly the way I ought to so that I can breath-bold
Carry on calling the shots of life and its awesome offerings

But I do not see it nor do I feel it nor am I to admit it for
I am a thick empty head where my neurons are neurotic
With ignorant pills and arrogant pride in my fallacies and fall
Hence there is the trail of blood and bigotry in my defaced face

Purple Clouds

On Christmas evening I went for a walk
In the quiet of the hours when people were
All indoors counting the short distant meal
All were in waiting to begin the hot feast

The wet expounded slabs on the pavement
Glistened in moist clarity of a peace shining
I walked touched by the transparent touch
I carried the connection that clasped me in

I looked up where the clouds displayed purple
Works of skyreal art the purple clouds spread
Keeping spaces of light blue sky to smile out
Through a soft purple screen almost lilac soft

I walked as I marked the low lights’ slow work
Still carried on in this evening that was dressed
In rain’s after shine: I thought of another sky by
A harbour and a window where a face might be

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The Green Vines on the Ocean-mouth

Three green pumpkin vines rose upwards
Onto the ocean-mouth of space fluorescent
In white explosion of lights spreading out
Towards all directions like fuel on space-fire

In the summer where things are in a hurried
Flux all abidding all abiding in all inclusive
Feast of expansion: all in a celebration-dance
Of reaching outward being in a singular song

On the fence the three green pumpkin vines
Rose upwards sparkling radiant in their green
Burning silvery soft hair taking in the offerings
The wind plays as though ocean waves flooding

In on the estuary of the vines forming them into
Three rivers reaching the sea all screaming of
Joys as they swing on fiery-silk touch of the
Wind: they dance growing upwards towards

The heaven: three slithering sibling snakes in
A race of being reaching outwards flowing out
Bound to being’s playground: oh! In lights how
They shine sway swing swim slither and sing!

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The Marriage of Elements

This fiery bridegroom who burns in fury of fire
And this enabling caring bride who helps burn
Dressed in desire’s diamonds their union went
To the unison coming together in this aqua kiss!

Hydrogen and Oxygen being two gas floating
Away in space burning and helping things burn
Yet their aqua magmatic kiss formed them in one
They form a state of heat a flowing duo-in one

Losing what they were alone they found what
They ought to be together a liquid flow of being
Flowing forever in an eternal serenade of glow
Bringing the love of seasons weathers and winds

They make love in different ways and means at
Different heat: in cold their bed is soft flowery
White in snow-flakes they float in a spread of
White falling and flying radiating soft diamond

In further cold their heat hoists them into moist
Solid transparent silver gold and they sing a song
Of tranquil magnetism radiating see through call
Of love being in a spread of cold’s radiant kisses

Pearls they spread in singing white and moist they
Sing and reflect the truth yet in the changed season
Of heat they melt in their moist coming out into a
Dancing liquid flow serenading while flowing out

Downhill and dancing singing through the space
Flowing and blowing and charging and changing
Bringing tender kisses and coral touch and there
We have all springs rivers lakes seas and oceans

All mossy and green all smiling in a velvet spread
Of thriving life all fern and moss all being in a set
Of rising opening blooming all in a rush of being
Wet moist and soft and hard and all opening gold

There the expression aqua rests and shifts a gear
At changing season of heat they spread again in
A thinner presence and they form white scarves
Of their love now in the air fathoming the white

They float in the high wind being carried out
Onto mountains and deserts and dry and hot
Lands they offer shadows of cool and winds
Have a reason to blow and they gather them

In the high heaven in the sky their soft white
Kissogram spreads they form a deeper weight
And colours they run fast heavy and pregnant
Reaching mountains falling over wetting all on

Down pouring warmth of aqua they are now
Dancing aqua-children murmuring down hill
Being in shine of falling enlivening all the way
They begin this new season again of flowing

In this states the fiery bridegroom and the bride
Now as one make love through varying seasons
Their strength of bond makes the wind to chase
A system of weather: blooming life’s imsonium

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Ideaphor

How do I clay out this coral symphony!
How do I lay my clayed words to moist
The music in what I hear surrounding out!
How do I encompass this compassless in?

Here high and low all height and all hue
Here we all in the grasp of a fragrant fall
In this hall where a waltz is waving out
See smell touch taste and hear to reach

How do I colour this cupid co-relation
In space wearing time all come together
An image it is not nor is it a melancholy
Landscape or orchestral thralls and waltz

How do I capture this nature beyond call?
This that is out of reach of just a metaphor
Where do I go other than where no one has
Been yet my boats and beats are the same

Of language, its soil, soul, myth and moulds
I am here with metaphoring marks and mints
I am in for a ride on the geometry of the rainbow
I am seeking an ideaphor to form this lone call

This is an orchestra put together as we speak
The symphony being composed as we seek
The right gradients and points and pressure
Joints: here colours are formed and notes are

Fermented: all the lights and the compounding
Darkness and their relations and the responses
Interactions: here seeing alludes to hearing and
Smelling takes smouldering touch and taste toils

Into something a magnetic mushroom that can
Only be viewed in a sphere where all becomes
One: like the rainbow where all colours lose their
Lobsters and become the flow of static motion

The audience sits under the canopy of darkness
That hung from the dome: all dazzling darkness
All seated in the rain of anticipation’s moist touch
Looking up at the stage where lights’ glows lit all

The stage static: no instrument is played or strung
But vines of luminous green hung downward from
All walls that are in a flux flow: wind played notes
Flying about yet there are images thrown in on the top

Of the dome and the walls left right and back the images
Flush up and go creating further flushing notes added
To the existing music of the vines on the stage swirling
The building is struck by the low lightning of the moon

In this valley of crickets and night flies playing low-note
In a moist fragrant silver fumes rising upwards slowly
And all this comes in as living broadcast onto the stage
The out is in with the notes and the frame of fragrance

The building top where spires rise up like willed masts
Towards the heaven where stars are staring in roles of
Open ended questions of relations and reorientations in
A wonder-strung slow motion marvel of space and time

And there comes the movement from somewhere out
Golden velvet brown leaves blown inwards through
A tunnel awash in lights on wind’s winding mouth
Blown in together in a dance: now is heard and seen

The images of that flow glow out onto the stage through
The orchestra of leaves in the wind as though a waterfall
Of music and images and speed and motion flowing over
That run towards the audience as a river that never was

And there goes the wind-chased leaves thrown upwards
Onto a domed home where they whirl up and down and
There they soak in soft touch of rain and there appears
A rainbow afar shining: the river flows towards the hall


And there fall the rain and the gold soft leaves flooding
Downhill through pebbles and stones and the gushing
Of water spreads towards a space where there is no low
Where they are in one with something as what they are

The lightning rings thunder spins and rain rinses out
A coral clasp and there the moon rises in the sky and a
Melancholy nightingale sings and the seasons open up
And a chorus of motion shakes the dark dome of all

And there comes the glowing space and luminous
Stars in the glowing dark the whole of the out rises
In live broadcast on the roof that opens a window
To the heaven: a flock of birds fly in formation in a

Rhythmic elaboration somewhere on a wall where
A shoal of fishes silvers out the pearls of motion fast
An eagle sings a call towards his lover somewhere
Far out into the forest’s breast and migrating penguins

Leave sound leaves music behind as they walk on ice
The thunder spins the lightning rings and the rain rinses
Out the inner notes of all: paintings displayed on a wall
Are nothing but cast images that falls one after another

Making marks of the music in relation to real and not
There come the bees in millions buzzing round and up
All comes the dawn and the sunset swirling up a sizeable
Cosmos of colours: call out of owls and flamingos sound

The babies laugh and the children play and the lovers
Search for the fires and silks to form the chemistry of
Poised genetic energies swelling up on their lips pushed
Up as particles of dancing enigma: all in one afire in tune


And there was the fragrance of rain vine and shine
The sounds of notes and the blended velvet of music
And the chorus that composed itself through out
The human bodies minds and spirits that sat there

And here comes spreading like the way moon spreads
The fragrances of wet flowers, blown leaves and moist
Earth and happy grass and the kiss of semi lights and
Deep dark and the impregnating music: the madness!

Audience smells of roses jasmines and bite strawberries
And they rise like the shining moon over which fly by
The hypnotized clouds carrying possibility’s rain-child
They are in the highest of note of the symphony: sung

All in one all swirling out all dancing all imaging in
All touch and taste all smell and see all hear and near
A metaphor is not enough to bring this close home
I stand up and open my mouth to call in an ideaphor

Here where we sit all dried and wet moist and hot
All cold and heated and hoisted and lowered and soft
Strong and sublime where all comes together in a liquid
Mead of marked joys: a rainbow ideaphor we are one

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