Why do i embarked on a poem this regular morning?
Guess i was overflowed by a particular thought or feeling,
or became uncertain about existence.
Perhaps i love the charade of words.
There were people around and inside,
but the void was preeminent.
No one can claim that knows how to live or found the truth.
Its just another lie to indulge ourselves in.
Meaning is found in the unexpected.
It is how you felt about weather on that day.
Just as affection is a fault of mind,
a glitch that God chose not to fix.
I think, what the world would turn,
if you let me in,
but its only a thought.
I've never loved you,
I was a liar.
I was captivated by unconscious drive for nothing.
I've told you, how the world would change, if you take me in.
But actually it wouldn't at all.
I'll be the same for ages,
uncertain and playful.

Time shifts and flips beneath your feet.
The world revovles at a high speed.
Men are in constant fidgeting,
knowing not, what they need.
It is a job of a broken man,
sitting puzzled at the bank of a dried up river, hoping for a good catch,
to speculate on chances *******,
friends lost,
money spent,
feelings trashed,
and values tossed.
I "love" this time, of followers,
sheep-minded folks, desperate for a shepherd, just as Israelis of ancient begged for a king, because every nation had one.
I have to admit, that man is a puppet after all,
of other men or other idols,
of his own image or his own soul.
It is wise to stop the first urge.
It is wise to deny the first impression.
It is ok to stay at bay, while others swim.
It is ok to stay alone, when others dance.
So, uncool is cool!
Do you get this, fool?
Cause you have no time to mull over what you do.
Rip off the veils,
throw out your amulets,
admit you are weak and mortal.
This is your chance to get near God,
to become the master of your own thoughts.
What for, this pomp?
Of faceless mob,
which very soon
will go to slump.
Its inessential outcry
and denial of truth
seems childish goof
with no real proof.
Wait till its plans get destroyed by death.
So, is it wise to get excited?
Is it prudent to get depressed?
Neither way will bring you good.
Neither path will lift your stress.
Wait for incoming blessing
and if its about to befall,
we'll find out the turn of fate.
Does a little misfortune break
your stance? Does your world stand
on crippled legs?
Beware where to put your faith,
it might have shifty floor or ugly face.
Dont trust beauty, it's always camouflaged. You'll pay a fortune for a broken egg.
Imagine when pretty face gets spoiled by a spot of dirt on a tip of nose. It will change whole plot. Heroes will die and villains emerge.
Someone will sit at the bank of a dried up river,
pondering over a lost chance,
hoping for a good catch.
If you do something, do it for its own sake. For the artistry of moves, complexity of thoughts, delicacy of forms and deepness of meaning.
If you'd had something common with holy, you could have  been enlightened
to see that nothing is as it seems.
You could have heard God soothing
to your ears. You could have pillaged your ship built on ancient lies and would have drowned to the deepest bottoms. You would have wanted to be in a free fall, have nothing to stick to, nothing to hold to, no one to rely on. Then you would have relized that freedom is in falling, freedom is in drowning. You might splash the colors and spit the words and call it a self-expression. But you are only a subconsciousness of a sleeping oppression. You can be a fool, but still talk wise. You can be an ugly, but still look nice. Do you have something for yourself to suprise. Before audience gets bored, ready to rise. Unleashing craze with devilish eyes.
Everyone today is  an entertainer.

i trade my soul for 30 minutes walk,
at unspoiled dawn, with no useless talk,
for the silence in afternoon and tranquility at night,
may the earth consumes us all, later or soon,
i'll stay calm i won't fight.
i dont need lover's tender touch,
nor i yearn for a moment of joy.
Life is fleeting, my creedo is such.
Take your pity, take your smile, take them all!
when the relentless noise is dead as an ocean stone
and the air is thin as a string of soul
you can play Vivaldi or Chopin's nocturne
dance for nothing or listen to empty tune
In the world of constant noise,
i pray for a moment of peace,
not to rush for anything,
stay awhile at ease.
Don't say a word,
shut the doors,
stop the clock and breathing, please!
lock the mind,
that ferocious beast!

Writer’s life is destined to misery,
to be hated by what he loves,
to scribble and scribble to make a difference,
in a world with no trust.
He tries to confine sublime into phrases,
bring revelation to ignorant folks.
He builds paths, destroys mazes,
to shed a meaning to meaningless talks.
It doesn't win him bread - what he does.
His art is precious, but no one needs it.
People need lies to get excited,
the truth bores them, they choose to skip it.
Oh, what do you do these days, the honest writer!
You want to deliver a message, burning your heart?
To tell of things you’ve seen and found,
convey divine power and beauty of life,
of genuine feeling and perfect sound?

There are two weapons at man’s disposal:
one is instinct, another’s logic
whether moral or immoral
they are bound to be in quarrel.
Use the first or the last.
It doesnt matter, just be fast!
While the master up above
will roll the dice and flabbergast,
you might still have the chance,
to make decision and hold your stance

There are moments in the past,
that you want to be at
and you know, they'd never last
- it's so sad
because the present is a line in the sand,
between future and the past,
between ocean and the land,
between river and the bank,
that will never come to end.
And tell me friend
what's the use of being sane.
in the hours, that remain.

i hate morning broken with the stink of socks. when my idyllic view of the world becomes troubled by the sheer weight of doom. as the whole life shrinks down to a spot on my finger. i get drawn to the mood of despair, with no memory behind and no hope ahead. What a dread, to feel that way. Like i was dystopian all night and turn blue by the dawn. ***** you blue sky, ***** you blue moon and **** the politics, that brings me gloom.