A home for butterflies
A honeycomb
A fly
A toothless comb
An endless sky?
Sep 2, 2019
Sep 2, 2019 at 3:55 AM UTC
My university notes
On the desk sleep alone
All my beautiful thoughts
Can immediately burn
I wake up in the nights
And ask them of me
How stiff is the wood
Without your only protégé
I am arranging my writings
In a book, to save them
But my beautiful thoughts
Can still immediately burn
Jun 11, 2019
Jun 11, 2019 at 4:58 AM UTC
My nights full of dreams
Are filled up with glory
And my days full of things
Are just the old story
Jun 8, 2019
Jun 8, 2019 at 5:22 PM UTC
The love is supposed to be sweet
With the roots in your soul and your mind
But everything dances in rhythm
Of infidel
L
O
V
E
Jun 6, 2019
Jun 6, 2019 at 7:06 AM UTC
Amazing how time captures the best moments
And I want to be captured in time with you
All the beautiful things, your intelligence
And your smiling face in the nights
I tickle your palms with my hair
You are my mood and my fair
You are my endless fear
And the love I need
I narrow down
Your beauty
In this
Poem
For
U
Jun 1, 2019
Jun 1, 2019 at 6:34 AM UTC
look in the face
of that insomniac
with its motley features
with its amber leaves
a park is never sleeping
so, in the night to talk
be a night-walker
with open-minded robe
be naked
no clothes
no thoughts
only a book, a friend
your park
its friend
be close
no clothes
no thoughts....
Jun 1, 2019
Jun 1, 2019 at 6:23 AM UTC
i swear
because of the logo
on my watery blue jeans
a hurricane in scala ridotta
used the fabrics in a way
inspired by
irma
katrine
or maybe florence
May 30, 2019
May 30, 2019 at 6:41 AM UTC
though coffee never
I could see in the corner
René Magritte, tacitus
handing me the lovers
lovers under a white quilt
he didn't bother
only my fingers
on the tiny postcard
induced the feeling of
evanescence
that night I was alone…
my venerated lover
which down the river flowing
initiated slowly
a strong concupiscence
May 23, 2019
May 23, 2019 at 6:24 PM UTC
papers, a fire ripped
them in halves & thirds
poets, with a quiet complaisance
were scarcely producing a grin
they were glad about the fire's
wild presence
together around it
the last pieces of memory
were declaimed
in a rowdy choir
papers, burnt to ashes
covered dead poets society
no one was breathing
or noising
though in the air the life was alive,
herself shouting
"the poets laughed
with the hope that
their masterpieces will not be used
to make fun of people anymore"
May 23, 2019
May 23, 2019 at 6:11 PM UTC
my spine coughs
pain,
****** smoke
& anger drives
my vertebrae
to get close
to the heart
& cleave it
caves
with bony blood
wave
May 23, 2019
May 23, 2019 at 3:45 PM UTC