Pompous quasar, purple violet, or The poetry of darizism. A collection of unfinished poems, super paintings, and pickled music

Any review that could be written regarding the poems of our author is doomed to inadequacy. Why? The answer is simple. The author violates all possible laws of poetry, breaking down the fences of meaningless limitations stretched over the Berlin walls of normality, based, on one hand, on the desire for its evolution, akin to Bryusov, Marinetti, Mayakovsky, (which is worth noting, he does this more than well), ascending to new, probably yet undiscovered heights, and on the other hand — from his own internal streams of energy.