in Ljubljana, Slovenia, since 1995 publishes short fiction and poetry in
Slovenian literary magazines. Several books/ sound books/ e-books
published since 1998.
© 2004 Iztok Vrhovec
woman stood by the lake. A man came by.
do you want?" the woman asked.
want..." the man replied and looked towards the sky, "I want to be
touched by Truth, woman."
woman stepped closer and touched him.
palm is wet and cold, woman," the man said.
"But the truth is...a wave...a wave that touches you like a whiff
of eternity. And you are... just a woman. When you're hungry, you smile
and wheedle, when you've appeased your hunger, you care for nothing but
your own digestion. The blood of enraged aeons boils within you, and
you're a mare dancing to the rhythm of their whips."
are thousands, millions of those, man, who recognise love and happiness
and eternity and the ultimate truth in the whisper of my lips."
then, when they're lighted up by a beam of this love and happiness of
yours, woman, they flee like frightened spiders. But it's too late.
Your truth has severed their limbs, your eternity has sucked out their
blood and they're nothing but a heap of rotting bones. Only half-eaten
corpses are released from your prison, woman."
herself has chosen to dwell in my eyes, man. Why won't you admit it?"
her gasping yearning for procreation Illusion will don any mask to charm
her witness -- this is her only goal. And you, woman, are nothing but a
puppet in her hands; a gleaming vendor of her paralysing poison. What you
advertise in the guise of Eternity and Fate is but an eternal and fatal
human soul is clothed in the veil of finest lies, man. Without them you,
too, would be nothing but a pile of tedious bio-chemistry."
words are born out of the greed of Interest, woman, and everything this
hissing factory turns out is the Lie you proclaim to be the only and the
holiest truth, because you're afraid to remove its blinkers and look
is the fundamental law of Nature, man."
gives birth to more illusions, woman, and before you know it they breed
like a plague of mad rats."
am the Womb of life, man; its Keeper and Cradle; I -- and only I -- keep
a priestess of your godless faith, woman, and in your heart you carry
battalions of guillotines severing the heads of hypnotised believers in
the name of your idolatry. Your palm is a cold and slippery axe, and
whoever reaches for it is mutilated. Sometimes a stray ray lights you up
for an instant, and then you declare you are the Sun. The only Light,
Reason and Intent and Purpose and Faith. Illusion herself obligingly bows
to your masterly act and offers you a moment of beauty in gratitude; but
this, too, is part of her deceitful play, woman. You too are a victim of
her intrigues, and your hollow heart is just a stage for performing her
perverted orgies. Whoever is seeking meaning and truth in her distorted
verse. cannot be redeemed, not even by death."
fruits of reflection are bitter and rotten, man: Disappointment, Anger,
Wrath, Despair. These miseries I can't digest. I am Beauty and
Attraction, and you, man, are their inseminator. This is the law written
by Fate, and Creation itself has forever abided by It."
it seemed that melodies of heavenly tragedies were dripping from your
mouth, woman; I laughed and was sad. But now...now I know you're merely a
fancy blotch on the crucifix of eternal illusions."
chain of fettered truths can't be broken by a few miserable words, man.
Yes, it's true -- I act out my part with greatest pleasure and delight.
So what! Creation is happily stroking its stomach filled by my passions
and desires, setting me as an example to all other creatures. I am its
prettiest and most loved daughter!"
puppet, woman, to lighten its boring aeons. Nothing but this. I'm leaving
will drop my translucent veil, man, and you will languish at the trembling
of my breasts. When I wade through the ice-cold water and show you my
white nudity, Lust will put a tremble on your lips, and you will give in
to the quiver of my shudder."
a serpent, woman; cold and venomous. And I'm leaving you."
is no sweeter venom than mine, man. You'll never get away from me!"
woman throws off her transparent veil, her white breasts tremble in the
cold night wind; she dives into the cold lake and shows off her honeyed
nudity. Her white thighs glitter in the light of the Moon's pupils, the
blinding light is obscuring the man's vision. Then the woman approaches
him, her hand reaches for his manhood, her cheeks tremble with victorious
excitement, for the man is hard.
never get away from me, never, man!" comes thundering from her mouth
like deafening lightning heralding a terrible storm. A frozen branch
trembles on a nearby oak, a shoal of agitated fish jumps out of the dozing
lake, and an instant later dives back into its icy insides; then
everything is as quiet and dead as before.
you're a slimy serpent!" the man shouts and grabs her hand. "The spit
of Illusion mixed with some stinky soil, which, at the moment of hysteric
wrath, Isis's mad fingers, moulded into a venomous, crooked creature. And
the truth is not so very hidden from the eyes."
his words the creature, in which seconds ago feminine blood was so
excitedly boiling, turns into a stooping ball; it rolls to the old cleft
rock perching helplessly on the bank of the sleeping lake, and a
disgusting toad emerges from it. Its crooked legs join with the rock, and
a moment later the sickening amphibian also turns into stone.
And since then no snake ever crosses the man's path, for in their hissing memory he is but a faceless peace of rubbish -- dried out excrement blown out of their snake's cage by a sweeping blast of some irrational wind.
All work is copyrighted property of Iztok Vrhovec.
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