Já ne-jsem z Kutný Hory Kutný Hory...kou-del-ní-kův syn!

Clock

worth of confessing love&joy

these lovely songs about that boy

remind me of Beckett's Malloy

bygone era was waiting for...

at the same time happens something like this

at Moving Station

Slam Poetry:

Boo-Czech!

Boo-Czech!

A fat one tries to gain the control of a namelesss mob

When he says- Boo- you say –Czech-

(But he’s really just a pain.)

The nicest Michael can predict a crash of trams

(Number one hits number four. In Plzeň.)

Whilst Bohdan feels lonely and googles himself

And later on he articulates precisely

Confirm. Ignore. Confirm. Ignore.

Crooked faces on his log book

A blue girl is giggling 

(when MM singing happy birthday song to Mr.President)

She doesn’t know anything about anything

and nervously shaking her bum

gig gig gig...shake...moving like a green snake

And Bohdan says very seriously:

'I pretend

laughing

when I don’t know what to say.

When I don’t have anything to say

I laugh!'

My train leaves in ten minutes.

Berlin

Říp