While thinking about the stories

Of the ones that truly loved

Mr. Robinson remembered a friend

From the times of carelessness and fun.

He told me he never saw anything alike

His friend used all of his magic

Exhausting completely his body and mind

He willingly agreed to sell out his life.

‘Cause he scraped the sky

For the one he loved

He broke the chains

Of her enslaving dark.

He scraped the sky

And brought her the stars

Just to keep a smile in her heart.

Mr. Robinson started to cry

I could see sorrow in his eyes

His friend was taken away and chained

Submitted to all kinds of pain

And all the torture, he calmly said

“Don’t worry my friend, I would do it all again.”

‘Cause he scraped the sky

For the one he loved

He broke the chains

Of her enslaving dark.

He scraped the sky

And brought her the stars

Just to keep a smile in her heart.

He never saw him afterwards

Some say he died some say he escaped

But every time you see a star falling

Remember this story and be aware

That’s him scraping the sky and taking the stars

For the smile of the one he truly loves.

Awakening to burning flames around

Radioactive cores

Is overwhelming

Lingering in the non-place they levitate,

Disoriented

               Specks

                           Of the cosmos

Eternal scream trapped

Between silhouettes of was and will be.

Dismembered

                 Souls

                           In a limbo

Shudder

Crawling between the bed and the couch.

The wasteland invites, but

It’s strenuous to get up,

Stuck between the longest stretch of time

Between inhale and exhale.

Peeling your skin off the fabric

Is exhausting

Stepping over crystals of light flooding

The floor

Is excruciatingly painful;

Drowning awaits.

Removing your skin from your being

Could be liberating.

So clean, sterile even, is

Tearing a hole and amputating

Your heavy skin.

Detached and stretched,

A perfect canvas to draw a map of yourself

Of your was and am.

All your sun stains and loose fireflies and

illusions

All your bloody moons and risings and

eclipses

All your shades and demons and

reflections

Intertwined in a galaxy of pulses and

Breathings.

But you need your skin

The cloak to go unscathed across the valleys,

The papyrus you wear coated with slippery wax

Layer after layer after layer

To keep all the sensations off.

Still, restless pulse will not keep you alive

Unless you extend your arms

Palms facing up

Always up so you can let the stars

Sprout and blossom again on

Your palms your skin, the fertile ground.

Let the space find its roots in you,

Let the beginning find you

Breathing in the ever longing scream and

Immerse yourself in the mesmerizing infinity 

And we shall find a pleasure

In the dimness of the stars

For as long as they remain

Up there, unknown to us

We shall find greatness

In our little selves

No bird flies in a box

And neither do they fly

Unless pushed

To meet the fall.

If I am to speak of life

The world will vouch;

In the darkness

With but a few flickering lights, 

The red moon Will rise 

Sincere in its sight,

Looking not for the top

But a voice of new hights. 

Ah, who is the strongest: 

Titans or gods, 

Kings or those in the hall of fame? 

Oh, what a shame 

What a waste!

(For even if you claim victory’s taste

That is the only question you asked) 

It's all the same

If you don' t find your true, hidden name. 

What good is it

Being tangled on the ground

When you lost the sight of the stars, 

Looking at your shadow of fading shine? 

Swaying I watch the whooshing swooshing,

the swirly whirl whirlingly swirling,

the swishy vortex of reality

swiftly whirlpooling in my cup of tea.

Wistfully I stir to stir what is within,

to wake my soul and to sway my will to spin,

so I watch white specks be swallowed by black tea

and wonder at the day that still awaits me.

The night is never completely dark.

Even in the blackest one, there's light,

be it a star shining dimly bright

or a fire's first, soon kindling spark

or a firework reaching the sky

or a lonely, dancing firefly

or an old lamp in some verdant park

or a candle on some hopeful’s desk

or a stage set for something burlesque.

The night is never completely dark,

as long as one is able to trust

the eyes’ ability to adjust.

Your impatience is making me leave my shoes at the door.

I won’t put my best coat on,

My bow is lying on the floor.

Hitting me won’t help the situation,

You’re a bore.

I’ll let the nearest body of water have my tears,

Slap my wrists and still nothing.

For sure.

My bloom comes out, I don’t know when.

Sometimes even the night doesn’t know

Why she’s chosen.

They do come out though, every now and then,

At times even a dime a dozen.

And when they do, I’ll get a little

Spring to my step, the air is crisp.

The chores get done and with the morning,

The rising Sun will feel my heat.

I watched you iron shirts

and though it may not seem as much

it made my mind wander...

about lots of things

How it feels to be the wind

beneath your skirt

and how it feels to feel

your touch

I am telling you...

the view made my heart and soul

passionately somber

And oh...

when your shoulder strap slid

just a little

it was as if Sargent's Madame X came alive

to make me confess

do not despise me

do not detest...

I am just a creature of vivid needs

and even more so vivid nature

It is just these little things

that make me wonder

what it's like to know your dreams

what it feels like to talk to you at night

and wake you up with the softest kiss

The world is horrid

my love

yet we are waltzing through

as best as we can

ten feet above the ground

millions beneath the stars

You say you are weary

and I believe you my darling

so come...

come...

let me hold you in my arms

                            Only five minutes left

All I’m doing is lying in the bed

Feeling all this heft

Seeing just red

I remember those days

Like it was yesterday

The first time I caught your gaze

And it was the only way

I kissed you like it was my first

As you hugged me tight

Now all I see is tears burst

When the clock hits midnight

This New Year’s Eve

Everyone will cheer

While I will grieve

And spill tears into my beer

Happy birthday!

But everyone forgot

If only she would say

All those words I ought

My love

alone thou must weep,

disregard of sorrows heap.

Darling mine

lonesomely thou must endure,

calm of heart to secure.

Dearest once

I beg thee still,

let those of old be of old,

let them die by

nature’s hand,

never forcefully

unamendable mend.

For what good can

out of holding come –

too close to soul,

too close to mind,

happiness in passed

past one can never find.

I promise I’ll be good

I promise I’ll behave

I won’t ask for anything

Except for you

To let me enjoy you

No hidden agenda

No hidden plan

Just you and me as friends

Just friends

I’ll forget I like you

A bit differently than I do my brothers

A bit differently than I do my friends

A bit differently than I do anyone else

I’ll let it all go

I just want you and the sun

And the sea

And the stars

And me

To enjoy our friendly summer

I know I can’t be with you

But I won’t let it stop me from getting to know you

And letting you to get to know me

                                          I promise

Words are built of letters.

Communities are made of people.

Each letter is like One Soul.

One Soul One letter.

Some letters can stand alone and by ownself and also with others and that way are perfectly fine. Those are vowels.

The other ones are consonants. And those ones are better in standing with others; they like to cocreate.

The letter U is open and is the letter of the opendmindedness.

U is the first letter of the Universe, Unicorne, U, Uniq.

Each letter has specific quality.

The letter O is a circle letter; like life.

Life is about giving and receiving.

About forGiving and forGeting.

Words are worthy.

Words are wealthy.

Words are healthy.

It all depends on how they are used and written and said.

Words make poem, song, column, prose and poetry.

Short prose is poetry.

Or poetry is prose in small.

I can paint the word Beautiful.

Rainbow.

I’ve been acting silly lately

Like a busy little bee

When she lands on a flower gently

Only to realise it was my knee

I’ve been running in circles

Inside my own funny head

One moment thinking of popsicles

The next wishing I was dead

One moment blaming life for being hard

The next enjoying every second

One moment in need of a lifeguard

The next deciding life is nothing but pleasant

It’s a tricky concept, you know

Feeling lonely, blue, and sad

Then forcing yourself to let go

Figuring out it is not all that bad

Why can’t we make ourselves

Feel happy all the time

Bring our lives down from the shelves

And even make them rhyme

Why can’t we live our lives

Knowing this could be our last day

When after all our nervous breakdowns

This is the solution anyway

I too act silly

Feel like there is no way out

But could this be true, really?

When there is always the next day and night

Life is unpredictable

And shit happens indeed

But it is also contradictable

So it gives us hope to proceed

The hope is in the sun and in the songs

In the sea, the love, and in the smiles

The hope is in those beautiful eyes of yours

In diversity and all kinds of lifestyles

The hope is in the friendship and support

In affection, stars, and kisses

The hope is in the day you finally use your passport

To visit the place which makes you feel like Christmas

The hope is in the hidden moments

When life is vicious and takes something away

Only to show us it tricked us

In order to prove us there’s a better way

We torture ourselves for no good reason

Since there will always come a day

In every lunation and every season

When all will be okay

                                     Silly little us.

My dearest, it has long been time for you to leave this place.

I beg of you - abandon your heart and forget my face.

You must follow your own path, for a world in such a sorry state,

these ruins and the things rotting in eternal night, are not your fate.

Each rising of the moon, you use the red flowers as your guide,

to bring you, as you always were, to my side.

But, my dear, I have long been overcome by my sorrow,

and you forget - in an endless night, there is no tomorrow.

You brush away the frost from my skin, in devotion, not pity,

the ice as a reminder that my cheeks have been kissed by calamity,

and each time, holding my hand, in me you confide,

as you say, „I do not remember that you have died.

Is there no way to break this slumber of yours?

My love, you need only set me on the right course.“

Silence falls, and ashes that are white as snowflakes.

Your fire breaks through as your voice breaks,

„They have not cut your tongue so I want you to speak,“

but you do not understand - gods are deaf and words are weak.

I have only ever wished one thing from the falling stars

but, see, my dear, the hand you hold is covered in scars,

and I cannot bear to raise my head to the starry skies,

for they have broken their vows and spoke only lies.

At least, I am grateful for this blinding moonlight

that keeps the cruel heavens from my sight

- for indeed, we do as they say and cannot demand,

they speak their wish, and our fate is their command,

so you are to be free, as is just, with your heart so fervent,

but the Moon is to shine, and I am to be its servant.

Only rarely, when you stare at me on your knees,

do I still remember the birds and the sun in the trees,

and my cold heart sometimes twitches to your song,

making me realize the night has been so very long.

There are things you cannot percieve and do not know.

My dear, I have let my own blood to see the flowers grow,

and I hope that one day, you will be able to forgive

- though I cut my wrists, I have no more blood left to give.

So there it is. The next time you search for me in forsaken hours,

no paths will lead you, no red petals, no strange flowers,

for such is the wish of the silver Moon, of the malevolent skies.

Soon, I will no longer remember your green eyes.