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  • 00_marrach___bad_poet___chtin_mara_-_opus_oratorium.jpg 3.09M
  • 00_marrach___bad_poet___chtin_mara_-_opus_oratorium__lyrics_.txt 7.70K
  • 01_marrach___bad_poet___chtin_mara_-_habitus_poeticus.mp3 8.62M
  • 02_marrach___bad_poet___chtin_mara_-_in_lexus_aeternum.mp3 11.11M
  • 03_marrach___bad_poet___chtin_mara_-_amor_sonus.mp3 14.52M
  • 04_marrach___bad_poet___chtin_mara_-_de_corpora_mali.mp3 13.74M
  • 05_marrach___bad_poet___chtin_mara_-_argumentum_humanum.mp3 12.50M
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  • __MACOSX/._00_marrach___bad_poet___chtin_mara_-_opus_oratorium.jpg 174B
  • __MACOSX/._00_marrach___bad_poet___chtin_mara_-_opus_oratorium__lyrics_.txt 174B
  • __MACOSX/._01_marrach___bad_poet___chtin_mara_-_habitus_poeticus.mp3 174B
  • __MACOSX/._02_marrach___bad_poet___chtin_mara_-_in_lexus_aeternum.mp3 174B
  • __MACOSX/._03_marrach___bad_poet___chtin_mara_-_amor_sonus.mp3 174B
  • __MACOSX/._04_marrach___bad_poet___chtin_mara_-_de_corpora_mali.mp3 174B
  • __MACOSX/._05_marrach___bad_poet___chtin_mara_-_argumentum_humanum.mp3 174B

file_id.diz

Habitus Poeticus

I live inside this crazy head
I wish I lived in cunt instead
I stay in the place that cold and dark
That if you put it to the night
You'd see all stars get magnified

This bonkers shed that makes me shout
When I just want to sing aloud:

Of my love
for the birds and the bees
and the sea
and the things, that move, that kiss, that crawl
that run and fall

I'm jailed among the greyest stuff
Not in a thing that's pink and fluff
I can't see the world that's out (side)
As my headmaster forces me to shout:

My love, what have you done!
You killed the one! 
And there is none!
nada, zero, zilch, nothing
ingenting of anything!

Things that don't!
Things that won't!
Things that can't.

I learned to dream inside this bunker space
Of the things I can do if I pick up the pace
Of the ways to move the rocky mountains
Of the moves to turn black into light
Of the sounds that make dead come alive

I dreamt of the times so far ahead
When lips get close and touch instead

of screaming, of shouting,
of singing, of louting

And the harmonies of the worlds ensue
All creatures become each other and awe
Starts flowing through the veins of the looney head
It has no choice but to roll offstead

All mouths that are one
and each other
forbidden is none
whispering together

My love
I love
All one
Alone
Along
So long
No end
No end
No end



In Lexus Eternum


There's no start or meaning to this story
No everlasting, posthumous glory

When stuff gets slow
I want it all pick up the speed
When they too fast
I pray these times to last

It all just seems like sitting on a fence
Watch carefully
Don't get your buttocks all damn tense

When shit gets good
I yearn for it to turn to bad
And at the moment of this wish
There comes the torrent index sad

Left not right
These thoughts they come at night
Left not right
These thoughts may start a fight
Left not right
These thoughts they come

I hop into my lexus
Running on one wheel
I add a dose of extra
To see how it will feel

The world is getting smooth
The sentences all fall
Onto the blissful soul
I'm blessed without a call

ing,

Then I'd upgrade my ride
With double chemical
Chill flowing through the night
No goat that's tragical

Gass pedal off the full
In my pillmobile
The words acquire dull
I reach for one more reel

The periods skip sites
The commas hang on trees
The grammas join the rites
All language set free

I slit remaining package
Now floating circles five
My back clear of the baggage
I won't be stopped tonight

Left not right
These thoughts they come at night
Left not right
These thoughts will lead to flight
Left not right
These thoughts they come

Somebody touches me below!
I'm losing grasp of the control!
God's picking mushrooms in my soul!
Determined its claws as mole's!

I hit the ground my knees bend down!
The light is switched, my eyes they drown!
The fire encompasses land!
The snakes entangle praying hands!

The sweat starts running riverwards!
The blood gets clotted inside chords!
The mouth piece stuck between the words!
The wheels roll off the way of Lord!

The devil comes, asks no names.
Sowing its black seed lit up in flames.

Left not right
These thoughts they come at night
Left not right
These thoughts incipit fright
Left not right
These thoughts they come.




Amor Sonus


Edgar vigorously attacks classical vacuums
Smelting the keys to the castle of tones
The chorals of space envelop streets from Paris to Beijing

Over the Brooklyn Bridge, the astronomer, drinking, recites electronical poems

Martin passes, gets lost
The black dog breathes
The black dog howls
Setting Bourgogne ablaze

The chlidren you publically denounce
The children that inevitably cause a scandal
The ones you forget
Or you tell yourself so

Piggybacking with Oedipus and Sphinx
Into the dreams of seismographic scores
American dreams of deserted places
All twenty one and a half of them
The futures of instruments lending themselves to 
exigencies of your inner rhythm

(Un)fixed to (no) idea
Understood by none, few and all

The stratospheric collosus of sound

Alone, not native
A present for some boy's 15th birthday
None present when bird comes calling
Then too late, as is too common in things about heroes

Density as an integral part of the night

The laughter in prisms of higher dimensions
Fist fights in prisons of lower ones

Ionizations that create negative atoms at the equator
Eight stamens fueling love letters in elevators

Most standing behind their times
Most wasting their genius in minutes three
Many deaf to music pulsating with life
Many unchanged by shape, direction and speed

(There I am, Theremin)

Few know of the mysteries
Even fewer conceive

Translate my heart from sonic to graphic
Mark my voice on crystal granite
Through the looking-glass diaries, 
Through the volume of two,
Let it write itself,
Achille to Louise.




De Corpora Mali


my body is a body for somebody else's body
a haven for the dreams of animals
wolf
ostrich
rabbit
camel

a bloody field for viruses bacterias
microagressions caried out in hope for mutants

a skinned terrain for bugs and germs and insects
continuing its promise to the bitter atoms

my body is an open body
a body of a thought
a thought of a body

it welcomes through the mouth the ears and anus
all openings for things it fails to notice
pronounce or annex

a mess of a body
an error of one
an excess of a double helix

infinitely bound to desires of finite
travels through surfaced abysses and minor flats
reprise of the maps
disease of the majors

the history that's carved in subjective storage
misplaced in the cellars, objectively obscured

for the doctor
the massagist
the coach
psychotherapist

in ruins of my head there the brain takes the form of a swarm

be something
to be some thing
to sting not, plastic thought
fly a lot
oh, how it's good to become a bot

to the banks of Tigris
at the base of my tongue

we can get along
promise that we can change what's wrong

sit on my face and teach my lips the patois of your body

do good for our bodies

our bad bad bodies





Argumentum Humanum



places filled with people
crossing lands and saying prayers

becoming prey
and the ones who prey

so tired of the real
they need a piece of sky
for their
stomachs hearts and pain
the life that isn't theirs

the rest of us above
the darkest bluest sea
will have to do with
what is left
when nothing's left to do

some running low on vitamin C
others in a mob getting high on E
we all in here keep trying to B

falling

the domino effect starts with the debt 
of the superior
as you puke out your anger all over the
neighbourood area

the aid as always comes to late
when you've become thing of exterior
the languages of help can only grasp
the random bits of (your) bodily carier

unequal distribution of spaces
to get a way
forces the rest of us to wait
in turn we drink the spirits
descending with moonshine
camped out under the darkest bluest clouds
we rhyme

some running low on vitamin D
others in a mob counting those Gs
we all in here keep trying to B

falling

alone not quite, together not (yet)
bones in the dirt, noise in a thought (less) 

without subject, outside structure
a volume of formless mass makes for
a bright erruption

in the darkest greenest lands it unfolds
the deserted souls take the scene to give mold
to the present in time out of hand out of joint
turn the wastegrounds to lands without borders with points

one for those giving all of the Fs
one for those rolling straight to the As
one for us here letting it B

falling

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