Critical Threshold

Lorenz

Garden of delights, visceral  surrealism 

 with Scent of filth and unnatural couplings embalmed...

Flowers of evil , troubled gaze ,vertical insanity...

Loud fart of an apocalyptic trumpet ,

sublime  tragedy ...

  Critical  threshold  .

Thread woven by a spider-like intelligence 

dancing on vaginal abysses...

 Enigma shrouded in a veil of mystery .

 You foolish,setting sail on a ship 

without anchor and rudder ...

  '' Let the poor little children 

come to me ,morbid object of envy ! ''

     Will they have the blessing 

of being crazier  of us 

beyond the critical  threshold of  lust ?

History  faltering .

Social prostitute vomiting  

the desacrated host ...

Poetry itself corrupting  the genius

with friendly artifice...

Stage of sanitized icons 

where transgression has become the shame

no longer recognizing fault ...

 Fatwa of remission in the dimension

of interchangeability .

 Everything visible in the hidden .

 divine ecstasy in the mechanical fluids contamination...

at the court of soulless bodies ,

judgment comes from trendsetters parrots

in rainbow robes ...

 Instrument of delicious torments

and medieval  disorders ...

On a canvas from Hyeronimus Bosch ,

you will be nothing more than transgender 

appearance ...

  Critical threshold .

 

 

  • Author: lorenz (Pseudonym) (Offline Offline)
  • Published: January 21st, 2026 11:44
  • Category: Unclassified
  • Views: 12
  • Users favorite of this poem: Ellen Marsell
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Comments +

Comments3

  • sorenbarrett

    Loved Bosch paintings had several prints of his framed and gave them to my son. Like a fever dream they tell the story in a dark surreal world and not only is everything visible in the hidden but much is hidden in the visible. Well done Lorenz

    • Lorenz

      This civilization has reached the point where everything goes ,because nothing has any real value anymore !

      • sorenbarrett

        Crypto where there is noting to trade but a number

        • Lorenz

          For it is the number of the man ;
          And his number is 666.
          ( Revelation 13 : 15/ 18 .)

        • Ellen Marsell

          Do we know at all that the play is already over, or are we still seated in the hall, applauding the void? A striking piece, Lorenz.

          • Lorenz

            cadavers are still seated in front of the threshold applauding the void !

          • nephilim56 ( Norman Dickson)

            great write

            • Lorenz

              The poetry of'' Seduction'' ''Connivance ''' And '' Friendship ''
              Is nothing more than an ideological lubrificant !

              • nephilim56 ( Norman Dickson)

                thoroughly enjoyed the read, ideology is a lubricant as you say



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