marți, 13 decembrie 2011

Wild child

Cold-eyed burning child

You walk on scavenged beaches

You hide you trust in all the wrong places

And search for lust in faded faces

Little hand drawing a sign

Growing spot- the bird flies in the sky

Your soul it took and now you shake your head

And all is fine

Your clothes are salted

Frail hair melts in blowing wind

And in your stare, the lively thought

That you might feel- if you would kill- something

You hid notes deep inside your throat

From time to time you seem to mouth

Forgotten songs and magic verses

Yet nothing moves, the world is death and silence screams

You grew in sand

Covered in scars and open wounds

Your mind evades

And when the night drowns in the sea

You dive deep

Stars shine on the bottom rocks, you pick them up

There’s nothing here again

No motion

You suspend

Time ticks happily away as the universe stops

You revolve

Look around but you won’t see a sign of life

Not even you

And when all hope crumbles

Eyes wide open

You see a soul- a twin-

And reach

Your hand stretches on infinitely

And you’d caress the child’s sweet face

And yet you press

Deadly, hard, decisive

You take a life away

And you remember what it feels to feel

The loss

Beginning of an ancient search

For the twin you’d always need to kill

joi, 8 decembrie 2011


imi plange goliciunea
intunericul ce i-l insfac din umbra-necata
invinetita piele ce m-acopera
prin valul inghetat

ma joc cu pleoapele-nchise
cu intunericul furat
linistea forfoteste prin vocea infinitului
am inrobit vidul si l-am ascuns intr-un carlig
ce-l facusem inecat

am regasit minunea-ndurerata
noaptea instelata ce se casca-n pustiul viu
inima pulseaza-nfrigurata
pana ce tacutul se aglomereaza lin
iar vidul sparge-un val

e doar al meu intunericul intins
otrava pustiirii si pustiul stins
n-am sa-l mai las s-atinga nicio palma stransa
nici ochiul zambitor sa stinga ploaia-n nor
inchid atent lumina-n chin si-o vand

noptii-i vand lumina stelei
ce-am purtat prinsa-n parul incalcit
lumina ce-am furat
iar noapte-ntreaga-o beau pe-amurg
cand canta visul prins in cui

carligul marii-l am in pas
durerea rasului fugind pe mal
si iata iara se pogoara-ncetisor
amintele de bun ramas
ce-l pomenesc prin somn cand tac

am strans in pumn tacerea
si-am facut-o scrum in linistea de ceas
ticaie intunecimea nimicului ascuns pe veci ramas al meu
si plang in ea durerea moarta
ce-nvie-n gandul dus

din cand in cand
mi-e plansa goliciunea
si noapte-ngenunchiaza prin pustiu
iar umbra inecata-n dor mirat
imbraca-ntunericul invinetit, pe veci furat

sâmbătă, 3 decembrie 2011

experiment of thought

riffle in my hands
not muffled, not silenced the gunshots fired
one by one they fall
the living and yet walking dead with their empty smiles
the lies engulfing all, shadowing the truth and the sun
my own empty hands are burning
red - the sunset falling apart

riffle in my hands
napalm is lighting the darkness
one by one they burn
these hypocrites with empty voices
their buildings, houses, cars and petty little indulgence
my own empty dreams are now ashes
red - the phoenix bird croaks

death in my hands
but no smoke arose
my lighter died
and I'm out of fags

vineri, 2 decembrie 2011


foot upon foot...walking barefoot
too early and yet past late
to feel the splinters caught in dead wood
and the blistering cold of plastic spread

encased in smoke as always
eyes flicker with city sounds
summoning a thought caught in weakness
opening somewhere in the cracks

the heart still remembers the feeling
of magical moonlight through glass
yet stained is the mind which controls it
and stained were the memories cast

a spell floats in the ashes surrounding
humane death in a thread
and while all that grew deep is left rootless
real colors seem here to prevail

the taste left is bitter yet truthful
a stain of truth on trembling hands
but as silence is hard to come by to
tomorrow will shake it aloft

cometh forth all ye cracks of the soul
the void you indulge is so grey
in sleep all the terrible screams are now muffled
and cloudy is the dungeon you scale

nothing is left for fate to rewind
no snapshot of forests once alive
and while everything goes on in circles
this dream spirals downwards towards skies

the feet walking barefoot on hardwood
are splintered by spikes in the clouds
the sounds of awakening strike as lightning
there are no clocks left to capture the time

this storms like all others will grow
and then abruptly fall in the abyss still hinted inside
to form tiny cracks in the clouds
of the dreams I walked barefoot upon