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Surfutur. Aesthetics Of The Absurd


Poetry of surrealism and futurism.

Mysticism entwined with reality, reality turned into illusion. Boundaries. It is the boundaries of the mind that turn a person into a slave. There, beyond his thoughts, are new free worlds full of Fish and oceans of energy. There, in the nothingness, is a hidden place for a new life.

Surfutur is a book that pushes the boundaries of consciousness, a book that breaks the chains from the mind. Here, in the world of mysticism of surrealism and futurism, everything is possible. There are no laws and regulations… You're the God here, the Creator God of the new world. Everything will be as you want and nothing else. Mysticism and illusions, breaking all rules and restrictions. You can do anything. You're a God. The book is useful because it expands consciousness. Now that you know that everything is possible, that all limitations are nothing more than illusions, you can use this knowledge in real life.

Surfutur is an acute novelty of images and essences. A library of strange symbols. Within the poetry of surrealist symbolism, the brain is not constrained by any rules. Mysticism entwined with reality, reality turned into illusion. Novelty, elevated to a cult. Mystical realism, eclecticism of unreality and reality.

 


   

AR

   

2.3. Floating morning.     AR AR

He was thirsty...  water or fire
the brick dream dripped silence into the palm of the day.

The phone floated in it almost alive
he silently waited to steal peace and sleep
and running around the table in fear
waves of ripples blew bubbles to the bottom
                     
And the words ran on the keys
and the thought sank but floated
somewhere in the distance somewhere in the ceiling
that it would grow some sense in the grain.

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2.4.     AR AR

An ordinary table an ordinary chair an ordinary bed
and 200 cans of soup Warhol put in a row

An ordinary person an ordinary room ordinary wonders
the trees are like lanterns with spiders weaving telephone wires in them

Elephant takes bath green fish nibble grass 
clouds creep into the brain walls fall into the void

The cigarette is finished the tea is finished the Lemonade is brewed
the whole town falls through the door and into hell

The table often laughs sprouting fresh books mushrooms
uniform music creeps mold into raw minds 

Mirrors are ears they hear everything and everywhere
like someone breeding or twitching in a loop..

Clouds steamers homes in hallways hangers and bodies
sometimes brains or umbrellas and other weird stuff

And forgetting the extra necessary only with you carrying
an ordinary person rolls back and forth in his rooms.

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2.5.     AR AR

The house is filled with emptiness...  the House has no wings
will not be able to fly out the window will have to live as it is

Thread draught patterns weaves of brick
while the shadow of the key creeps into the door lock 
                                                     
Here      connected by a cross stained    walls
their eyes were covered with darkness they were bricked up doors

Here the puddles returned to the rain splashing smaller
drop by drop they flowed away smiling at something

Shrouded in candle flame shadow looking around chilly
she wove patterns of silence and warmed herself with it

And the crest fell and ran where not to tell
through the voice only wheezed, but that did not make out.

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2.6. Kitchen antifada.     AR AR

The dishes ran away huddled in a flock and crouched in corners
she followed with her sharp gaze...  on the sides
         
The lighted wall closed the shadow ran down the bronze.
light bulb    it looked worn but still warm and alive

And the sofa in that corner is big-eyed
a rustic chair a rustic table
just a giant china cabinet.
                                              brownish-empty

Frozen landscape under the paint of day...    darkened
the parquet gleamed like ice... paled

It seemed to me like merging with butter...  he was trembling all over
and the leaf of the wall swayed...  and still dreamed         

Bricks dripping into the hole ...  water jet               
the moth's days slipped away...  slave of love
                 
He collected grass from passersby...    to give it to her
in this mysterious garden ...                                    
                               
And down there the visitor was clutching a cane.
full-length polyphonic
                            the madman was not simple.

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2.7. A typical day.     AR AR

It flowed like Spider gas...      wall of hands
he hungrily caught and ate flies...  obedient servants

And the eyelids of the walls gave ripples...        his eyes
he believed them like a child...  empty words
                     
The day stealer stole the dew from the Blue grasses
and the sun is no more    in their half-bent arms                           

How the heat dripped on the ice.
so the snow burned losing all words
compressed lips back bent tired day
sad that laziness prevents him from being even

And falling from the open window in flight melted the last tear
the fly in the Spider's clutches had a warm yearning in its eyes.

Such a kind good fortune a typical day in the palms of sleep
it rolled a little forward but sometimes the plant ended in it.

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2.8.     AR AR

In a quiet lake overhead 
a glass on a long stem sinks in the waves
reflecting the falling snow and its blue dust

Artificial peepers flutter carelessly in the heart of the cyclone
yellow crawls out    red crawls underground again

A glow drips onto the boiling city from somewhere above
it flows somewhere and then comes back from below again

Slastoverets Mr. deputy completely caressed the children of God
they became lazy fat and forgot the smell of their home

Hungry eyes teeth biting the greasy air in hunger
closed in a triangle gnawed dry it    black Echo

Droplets of light sucked at the salt-coated shadows.
obedient children in their quiet crib cage swing

Gnawed teeth water teeth water gnawed
they were terribly cold but they didn't care    lived                                                                 

at the North Pole  I twisted my arms with a bang
my tears flies to the ceiling dripped crawled there sat...
                                    and somewhere even further away then flew flew flew.           

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2.9.     AR AR

Clown evil shadow climbs in the morning in the window
pouring light deep into the face

Buckets right in the brain bastard prevents sleep
smiling reptile in his full mouth

Blue toxic cat drips like honey into the palm of your hand
smothers a frozen lump in his throat with his tail

Sheets are like water frozen by a skating rink
and then you're sliding down onto the table...

Slender cattle yells their songs
here it is beauty ...  few people will only understand 

Buttons curvature wings shiburshit
a butterfly like a tear falls and screams

In his skull a choir sings.
he is no longer alive but there are people living in the world

In order not to breathe at all, the mouth was sewn with a thread
used to be tongue weak and now ugly.

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52.     AR AR

Is  it  possible  not  to  let  circumstances  take 
control  over  you?  As  if  they  really 
obey... 

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2.10. Soft-sliding dreaming     AR AR

An extraordinarily beautiful woman lying in a soft bed
she meowed as she jumped to the floor and ran to the kitchen for breakfast.

Her satin-white skin was suddenly translucent.
and immediately all the thoughts floating in her head became visible

Disappearing into thin air is an old shabby cat
suddenly he reappeared and took the woman with him.

Brick paper which covered the room
in places it fell off and let guests inside

Some of them were sitting comfortably on the floor
and drank green tea with pieces of roasted bergamot

Spreading its wings inside the woman is a strange white bird
I tried to fly but there was nowhere to fly

Dangling our legs from the statue of liberty we looked down and dreamed too
somewhere to fly away but common sense said Don't

A strange creature as if composed of
out of hundreds of blue butterflies passed by

Her lashes fluttered slightly, barely covering her eyes.
apart from them, there was nothing on the body

The phone rang but instead of a voice
water flowed from the tube and the bell was reset

Naked beautiful woman in only a fur coat
she waved and climbed a tree.

The hunter shot the hare and for some reason immediately died
but the hare remained intact and became president.

A flower suddenly sprouted from a huge Scarlet Bud.
the Blue Bear got out and flew away to collect honey

The ring on her little finger moved and tickled pleasantly.
bit off a finger and crawled into a pocket

On the cloud grew a tree from which an apple fell
and broke the tall building on the mountain where the hare lived. 

Then it started raining which ended the war
but it became boring and the hare started a new one

In the water where the blue butterflies lived
suddenly there was a drought and everyone died

The black man bent down and waited for something for a long time
and when it was over for some reason it turned white.     

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2.11.     AR AR

Tetris in Broken City plays
putting puzzles out of what jumps and flies

Spilled and smeared on the table keyboard
fingers hammered    wrung out dilapidated like a sculpture…

How much she needed did not dream not a hammer not a miner
God only knows its delicate architecture

A completely new iPhone finger drowned in itself
although if I could I would bite my hand off

He blows bubbles with women inside the ball
they fly along the city streets ringing and chattering

Sometimes the bubbles break and rain down
from the shards of glass monsters happily crawl out.

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2.12.     AR AR

Spitting image    in cast iron    sinful Oh sinful..
the monument itself ... hung upside down
in the mailbox    silence in the whiskers of a wise Herring
a symbol of the curvature of a boat sunk in a storm

Quivering inside the brain they sprout towers
clinging to the clouds breaking apart
and crumbling down    splinters paint the Earth
burgundy and blue    with green mold laziness 

A draught creeps into the house it moves its lips
he chases and chases her and then he raves about her
squeezing the wind in the leaves rustling the branches in pain
and crumbling so freezes covered with salt

A flame floating from afar in the numb air
reminds me of clouds in the mirror of the ocean
buckets of bells noise spilled in drops
this is not a thunderstorm but definitely already a rake.

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2.13.     AR AR

You can say it was not...  there was only an outline
consisting of many people who are constantly
they crawled somewhere, did something, thought something...
some wore clothes, some had tattoos...
and some themselves in turn consisted of
all sorts of junk    proteins of cheese and even sometimes from balloons.

But the most interesting thing was something else...  she never was
the same...  yesterday it consisted of autumn leaves
with very kind brown eyes, and the day before yesterday she was
a shoal of fish sardines .... but then the fish swam away somewhere
the leaves withered and today's  people are already slowly
they began to spread and balloons began to take their place...

They were very unusual balls some were made of stone some
out of the water...their form was perfect varied from ordinary
nothing unremarkable watermelons to some complex hinges
gears and even Egyptian hieroglyphs...
but they had something in common...  they could all fly...

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2.14.     AR AR

Lightning and thunderstorm cuts the silence 
porcelain  Dragonfly crashes into the void 

Gently spills onto the floor Spider leaving its nest 
and from the depths of his eight eyes, a strangely lively warmth flows out
                                                   
In a room with blue echoes, he lays his eyes on the table
the reflection of his pupils wraps everything in a white cocoon of peace

In two mirrors a star sinks    but he doesn't scream
rolling her eyes pensive silent

Only the whisper of someone else's wings is heard throwing out the window
quietly all alone he chews his silver

Well, you my Seraphim boat drowned ...
he threw an oar into the water and swam home drunk

Where is the sheep pen that spawned you
where is the old fire that loved you so much

Mercury striped scarf wind itself killed
and so  he lay by the rocks, a strangled Harlequin.

Sand covered the window offering itself to breathe
it's a funny pity not to run away.   

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2.15.     AR AR

Instead of laundry on a line in the bathtub
fragments of a naked voice - monologue hang down
and a skin mask with a painted face made of foam rubber 

She was a soul in the former water stood
the Roman deity listened.
        nechert Sorry Not understanding

Old voices dead of fate spoke
carried religious nonsense...  solace Rotten Fed

Idleness wept like a baby her gaze wandered 
mixing neighbor with neighbor his lips caressing

Everything was boiled steamed divided into ten
in the cold, the Scarlet kneaded into a sickly sweet muck.

         
2.16. 

Bystrokhot breaking teeth itself is now called
you sprinkle it with black pepper and it remains white as it was

Thousands of his paws on the porcelain whiteness of the table.
they crawl drowning in what once lived and flew..

Cephalopod stepping carefully into the sand…
slowly crumbles and dies almost disappearing..

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2.17.     AR AR

Lips clenched.
with his rude claw
squeezes and cuts words
that climb out
          swearing obscenities
                      like miners
                          into the light of day

No one knows them 
                      no one saw them
they live in the dark
wild children of the night
walking the Earth

*
*
*

Hand with a cigar.....smokes
then naked then to the moon.....  grumbles
smiling at her washing her face
screams spin    me
                                                            deep in blue
  And then 
with the greed of a dog    in the bend
feet parchment wrapped wings 
mouth teeth will curl as if 
he is not he and there is no sign of him
who is there who heard us....... 
                              lying bastard ssssssilno
vychugun waltzes in rattled 
it burns    in the flames of time 
come out shouts for me for the fireman
set fire to suffocate will be hot I 

who would take him into the herd 
I'm not  I'm screaming      and don't
exhaled oxygen was gone
and it's still not enough for him.

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2.18. As if.     AR AR

Through the open door, the rain slowly creeps into the room
cirrus clouds with thunderstorms dropping drops of trembling

In the room silhouettes with rivers waterfalls of fire
farmers with tractors and mugs up to the ceiling

A room as small as a world as small as a box for your ring
living her own life and running away to the fields
 
The months there are confused beyond December to May
August snow and lightning January Mars-February 

As if as if 
  the Mirror became water
and spilled on the floor with a tear
it would open the door to a strange world very strange 

As if as if 
wings grew and you became a bee
the one who lost her swarm
and became very, very bad

As if as if
buzzing    above your head
became a leafy feature
separating her world  from being just different.

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2.19.     AR AR

The eagle spread the rocks crushing the walls 
a thousand tones of his glory shuddered with wings.
at first he who painted the picture thought that this would not be enough
and without noticing he drew a bird hovering over the mountains
painted mountains and rocks painted avalanches and Sky 
painted a world full of raging foam glory.

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2.20.     AR AR

I'm delirious with a line on white
                                    breathing bottomless 
dissolving into the stones 
                                        and I believe
which is exactly the way it should be 
        on splinters spilled                                   
                           
crawl
            on them knees
                    jump on them with your feet
crumble into dust with your fingers
          breathing in the whole abyss
                    so that tears already appeared

Mountain juice drink at the breast of the city waterfall at the feet flowing down
through the gorges boil the streets never ever getting cold

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2.2.1.     AR AR

We knew a lot about small things and small things we knew about big things
we did not know the simple only about the complex and the complex did not know about the simple…

*

The quiet whisper of the desert will dispel the wind of emptiness
your eyes will give me hope... 
                                                                      your words will give silence

*

The city is just a mirage    running along its edge
this is some kind of whim...    I play with him
a deserted wild beach...  I'm lying on it 
                                                                                                                                            then I die.

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2.21. Fuck David Boney     AR AR

Inside is far from empty
everything is having fun and not at all sad
a living field covered with flowers
swaying like a fish flapping thousands of their hands mouths

Happy birthday horseradish the personal has now become common
the root of the problems has grown into a tree and we are not timid 
the HSE is now a brothel and canteen for prostitutes
but this is not our business we will go into the woods and shoot    Ducks

The episode when Boney cooks dumplings in tea will be tomorrow
today we make voluminous hips    and Basta

She lives inside a peaceful atom...  life inside a molecule is not sugary
services of grain growers are expensive as much as possible    dolls as always do Nehera

cabbage with Buryak military equipment 
                          Cola    with boiling water oh how fun
wholesale horseradish goes all in a penny and for expensive you go to the squirrel

These teeth in curlers shine in the window
in them the fire flares up and rushes to the sun
like a horseman accelerating on the fly with all the dope
without talking falls into the hole at the bottom of the pan   

It's made of paper it's bad
the doctor did not tell her to burn because there will be an ass
like a molybdenum-and-tit cow 
it is very far from the standard

Nur KZ and horseradish kiss 
lips Clank and lock in the cold. 
the distance between gas molecules varies markedly

Oh, please pour more let it hurt.

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