let everyday
be one to remember
  with gratitude
i am
    lightbulb
eventually fading out
but today,
  rays of joy
shine

I pour beer
to my half full glass

the composed glassware
fulfills
to its utmost extent

second class beer can
sits in its shadow
refusing to empty
become obsolete
pressed
neglected
recycled
today

patti austin, let your faust in
let the vinyl play
pour whiskey, ***, gin
anything upright, if you may
little drunk, play that funk
sink the drink, sunk this drunk
hey boy, this is savoy!

every morning i crave
to sleep tiny bit more
at complete peace
pure exit lens

and every night i wish
to stay awake little longer
at complete ease
pure existence

i fell from abyss,
to a wistful
post dinner rest,
laid down
next to an angel like brunette
for the first time i knew,
we gazed each other
much, like lovers do,
then softly
on her arms i
lowered my head
and kissed
her grown tummy
that carried life
is it mine? i asked
while
her new man
did the dishes,
(who was this simplicity, that she said to have chosen, for the pure easiness of it?)
and with whole
worlds unselfishness
she answered
how would it make you feel?
i stuttered...
she smiled
while warm safetiness
was injected
to my veins
by the pure
stinging self power,
she had just shown me,
right there
i knew,
i felt love,
i felt it...
for the first time
in my life,
a moment
that put aside
a lifelong doubts
if there was
such thing,
i had witnessed,
what so many
preach of,
what so many
die for,
and so so many,
write about,
i left the apartment
soon after, walked
down the stairs
and to my grief,
never
saw her since

by the heads
of the ******!!
should i ever
be offered
an answer to earthly secrets,
then atleast,
i have been given
my question:
who, was this woman
of my dreams,
and why love came knocking
past bedtime?

I
you could be,
the most sweetest muse in the world,
one above,
the invented meaning of words,
oh you could be,
what few of us dare to dream,
a secret to so called comfort,
oh yes you could,
and the way i see,
your hazel brown eyes sing,
while your lips are sealed,
you preach and i listen,
a melody only few understands

II
double inhale stress relief,
ex wants me back in sheets,
while old crush, offered me a kiss,
one i, politely declined,
ask and i'll answer,
i barely know, whats going on,
for somewhere in the corner,
a lost lesbian, got jealous of me too,
you'd think it took time, no,
a day in life, under dim lights of a bar,
none of them knows,
yet i told them so,
theres a girl i like, one i'd never hurt,
one better, than stories to be made,
so let us be a week, a month or years,
know you can sleep,
with calmest of ears,
for every tear i'd make you weep,
would pour down twice from mine

III
thought it was the sirens,
that confused me,
see, i got lost here,
and its been too long,
but i remember the lighthouse,
and signals, it once sent my way,
and while the signing goes on,
i know i've been here before,
familiar song never changes,
it goes from ballad, to ballad

light of life rose above the desert,
as salomon sang the blues,
traveller felt the eyes of Ra, as he passed his last hurrah,
now left to be judged by rattlesnakes,
zikhi-zhii-zii

journey of lost soul,
only echoes voyages of past fears,
to rise against the dark he dared,
was it for blues, was it for Ra?
know not, but courage to travel far,
the traveller sure had

how you keep a secret,
when you run out of space to hide it?

and who do i tell, i don´t miss you,
only parts of we, and role you played,
in this crush extreme...

and why today, when years have passed,
does window present a morning twin,
of time long gone, that lost its bling

and who do i tell, i don´t miss you,
only parts of we, and role you played,
my sweetest muse

the **** we doing?
I am frustrated, angry,
this wasn't how I planned it,
I was supposed to change the world,
saw all the unlogical behaviour,
the problems,
only to become one?

I turned into a poet, a writer,
to describe, change ideas of the future,
now I read back and see,
all I described was,
another beautiful night,
a cruelsome heartache,
how juniper curves, and song it sings,
have I fallen into a category,
of what I, used to loathe,
the tales are magnificient,
yet, do they tell a story,
of better tomorrow, for you, for me,
to go about?

I must search, the shadow of my roots,
escape the cage, of settled protagonist,
my heroes, past truthsayers,
look down on me now,
I will rise once again,
for liberalism!

I am the nemesis,
of bold new world,
the last mohican,
who remembers bloodstained history,
of humankind

they come at night,
in hopes, to erase stories,
of what they did,
who they forgot, the untold mystery,
of those left behind

but I've told you before,
and I'll tell you again,
this spirit of mine, you can't take away,
see free folk knows, the ***** secrets,
of evils mind

so say your prayer, and know,
from the fire of your lies,
I was born, and now,
I am coming, for your death

it seems most deities,
are derived from basic human relationships,
fear of father, love of mother,
respect of brother,
etc.

It amazes me
like Angkor Wat
standing
in morning aurora
the perfect view
I can't escape
(I haven't tried)
the nubility
of melancholic, doleful eves

And it amazes me
why beauty of sadness
appeals to this man
like magnets of my mind
were once mixed by their poles
could it be
the explanation
why its tough to navigate
and feel a bit lost in this world
my beautiful world

there's life between the lines,
in paradise and hell, a life
between the vines,
next to drugs and sobriety,
between the lines

there's life between the lines,
beyond sea and land, a life
between the tides,
in love and hate,
between the signs,
in our life and death, a mile
between the sides

look what free speech has done,
over 100,000,000 books written,
laying in shelfs of thrift shops,
given away for free,
since 99,999,637 are not worth reading,
to be honest,
I blame parents, and teachers, but most of all,
the wannabe bohemians,
with their designer clothes and artisan beer,
giving applause for friends,
who just published their debut work

sweet child, do not go up the stairs,
tomorrow polaris dies!
as only memoir remains,
in the melancholic skies,
virtuous child, spare your veins!

so you couldn't resist a shooting star,
you're not a failure, you're a poet,
come meet your kind,
in nighttime rooftops, we wait for you,
life's beauty, you will find!

brothers, sisters and all minorities,
I call you not to arms, unless forced,
but to gaze upon undersigned and thyself,
let us lay our forgotten senses,
in the hands liberty,
escape,
the long ruled captivity,
of forces that reckon no humanity

see the sea we are gasping our air in,
the false beliefs they are airing,
hear the fear of our siblings,
from the earth of castaway feelings,
and feel tomorrow of rescued society,
unity of you and me, for you are me,
and I am you, should we ever melt the globe to one remainining matter, wholeness.

Sun darkens and heats in east,
balance of powers perturbs,
it'll be a sad story,
in books of history

last poet will finally cry,
and with delicate soft hands,
one, which never did a days job,
must poet carve a tear dome,
for past times, humanity and freedom

*** and July
   gives tingling heat,
paves way
  for all romanticism,
and poor Rudy,
wrote a letter of love before dawn, and as expected,
           she adored it,
  never were they told,    
Romeo and Juliet is a ******* tragedy!

Female, male, novi-, pan-, trans-, cisgender,
questioning, agender, non-gender, alia! inter! apora!
    andro, bi!
chuckchi ne'uchika,      guevedoche,
  maverique,      winkte,
xanith...and approx 60 others.

When list is done, perhaps we can finally just be

From days past, a remembrance
has escaped,
It is with deepest of griefs,
I shall tell you the following:

where touch of cheeks,
or small kiss on a forehead would take place; a physical world,
is where following does not make its stand! no!

another starborn-lullabyworld, the mind! is his forest, undiscovered by earthly wanderers, place of magic, wonderful poems! earth saving ideas!
the greatest of lovestories!
here he lives and everything he touches, diamonds! oh how poor midas would be envious!

but it is with my deepest of condolances, I have to reveal such magic, for nothing in lullabies, exists in daylight

and touch of cheeks, only turns to sleepless nights

...empty stage,
confettis cry their glory past,
life be like that sometimes, you see?
who remembers the one,
under raining stars,
when mars is the future gar-,
-den of thieves,
and when do we cry, our glory past, Prince's niece?

they say memories are a shadow,
incessantly by your side,
now that I think of it,
'twas me who said it,
beautiful metaphors,
as few word shelves higher,
must be why most women I choose,
fall in love with me,
alas for a night, nevermore,
they realized, never understood,
I'm a dreamer, not a dream!
I rarely even sleep,
I just get enough of the day,
enough of the shadows...

I am,
my favourite writer, poet, storyteller,
my words, speak not in riddles,
they do not lie, I know them perfect,
my words, you are a true friend

when rivers flow upstream,
I wish,
you could see this dream,
this masquerade of sacrifice,
understand my choice of life,
reality, surpassed by reality,
how the stars tell their tales,
and make me have these ales

kings and queens,
they die in satin sheets,
farmers pass away,
next to beloved sheeps,
and poets,
they walk amongst the dead

you take me to asgårdian lights,
rob this novice from his sight,
see these flickering reels,
steal real feelings, at ease,
and what is left of me,
offers nothing to goddesses,
whom now walk beside,
                                 undersigned.

Poets stand tall,
by *****-7 waterfall,
drown the miseries,
of mistress and Ms.,
heaven and hell,
in our storytelling

I am surrounded,
by people close to death,
waiting to be reaped,
and a young woman sings,
a song, none of them knows,
and their dance, is long gone,
for this might be, their last song

Should I tell the most gruesome tale:

"my love, my eternally falling leaf,
promise queen, listen,
I hate you, Summer Seethe!"

And summer's come and go,
to put it simply so.

black and white rainbows,
everywhere now,
my colours I left there you see,
up for grabs, and I knew it,
but **** I miss red,
how it made my heart beat,
and ******* blue,
beautiful and rude,
and for you green,
no hard feelings,
all or nothing had to go

misunderstandings,
****! i hate misunderstandings..,
they have ruined...yes..,
like clouds ruin beautiful weather,
yes..like clouds..
they have ruined,
something that could have been beautiful,
our weather, you know..?
the one with the colours,
where colours make no justice,
for these colours were unseen,
collision, of two rainbows,
cause, i like blue, and you like orange,
hope one day i am blessed to see,
whatever they call blange

In the ruins of freedom,
there remains speechless,
where fear no longer exists,
it lives a life of everyday wanderer,
and we,
who have gathered around umbrella,
have forgotten the chaotic sound of,
how drops of evil rumble,
to the thin layer of canvas,
known as peace

A martyr, dead by his flesh,
with pink-red jawline,
and rotten lips,
has peculiar pull for me tonight,
so I make my way closer,
as he sizzles that snake like tongue,
and with my soft mouth, I make love to his,
bite away part to reveal few teeth,
just enough to pull them out,
underneath, I find the letter long searched,
but oh,
disappointed at reveal, as letter states:
what you search cannot be found, my friend

A small rumor that whispers a promise,
delivered by summer wind,
of womans touch seen,
in a glimpse of a dream,
can make a poor mans soul,
keep going for months

Isn't it ironic,
I, try to size up shoe,
when we knew,
our love, never felt true,
lost at the sea of ours,
I look at sirens,
wishing, I was wise too,
seeing now, why is you

It starts with C,
we all know the abc,
then comes delta,
we forget all,
spike me, **** me, penetrate me,
and now nobody knows abc,
it's new letters, new syllables,
and I thought I go mad,
on poetry, philosophy, but no,
world has lost it's mind,
now,
we all go down together,
battling, mostly each other,
what has happened to the world,
to you, to me?
we used to know ourselves,
our sensibility, on shelves
will you be my friend?

would world tear apart,
if lonely got their part,
of love,
would it be a sin,
if shy found their kin,
for once

it's not about how happy life you live,
when you're dead and gone,
six feet under, all alone,
see, happiness don't mean much,
it's solely things you leave behind,
chirping any meaning at all,
to those who stick around few more years,
sure happiness makes the journey easier,
nevertheless it won't build pyramids,
make poor anymore rich,
or nothing, out of the ordinary

would you,
trust blindly,
help a person unknown,
where would you stand?
if situation,
can't be verified,
is a chance,
to save a life enough?
and what's moneys worth,
if they're lying...?

as sun goes down and nocturnes play out,
thoughts, they calmly sail, I,
reach new age bacchanalia,
garden,
of modern day failure

in 'Cáfe Orbit's End' line,
we wait for, forbidden wine,
the sweet taste of freedom,
now echoes long lost kingdom

tell me, lovers of time,
has any, met amatorculist,
worse than bitterest wine,
who stains tablecloth finer than,
one they named as lost poet

raven, raven fly to me,
mighty winds be her guard,
can you catch, the sound from sea,
longing song echoes from past

raven, raven wait for me,
half a soul stayed for thee,
by the river, by the sea,
desperate lovers can be seen

would leaves never fall,
if wind kept its blew?
cold winter leaf, hmm...
perhaps it hates colour blue,
i know we humans do,
cycle of leaves seems wiser,
they know to bury themselves,
when winter's due,
but aren't they arrogant!?
to go out in such style,
like chameleon parachuting,
seriously, who does that...

the most important person in our lives,
is not our parents,
not our friends, lover or our children,
not even yourself,
it's simply,
(ready for it?)

a person who you don't want to be

a poet doesn't cry through their eyes,
but if you look deep enough,
you might see,
how tears fall from their soul

the way rain beats dry desert,
birth of flowers,
creation of installation

and a poet doesn't write,
but if you look deep enough,
you might see,
how they paint gardens in shape of words

hello my child, and remember,
you are still and steady swamp,
in heart of a flourishing woodland,
you are mirror, to reflection of hatred

do not exceed your capacity, my child,
surface of time, divider of life

when you eutrophicate,
are hell and heaven divorced,
mirrors broken,
and images left on the wrong side,
will suffocate,
for who breathes hatred,
shall drown in love

so rest tight tonight sweet swamp,
your destiny is much to endure

Queen of waves,
relinquish poor ol' *******,
set world free,
forgive ol' debts he owes,
******* he was born,
no name in gravestone

by drop of ink and wave of feather,
would he rule the fleet,
emperor of new bold world,
destroyer of rights

poor ol' *******, blood in his hands,
dirt of the sea must be brushed, everyday,
whip must be whipped, on a stormy night,
as violin deserves to be played,
and grand orchestra has to be born,
on a beautiful day

poor ol' *******, destined to suffer,
melancholic tears fell from the sky,
the night,
Moirai sang the fate of poor ol' *******