Tie my happiness to the sky,

Where everything remains,

Unmoved.

Another star dies,
Another day is gone,
You think it wouldn't matter,
But to us it's all there is,
Now lost poets, who once loved
Gather around these stars, watch the universe,
To write this same verse

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

What a time to be alive,

New day, mask on,

The eyes, they don't lie,

Is your character off/on?

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 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

As I'm laying in your bed,

A sleepless night has turned to morning,

And as you go through your routines,
I, lay there, adoring your beautiness,

You give me a smile,
Not the ordinary smile, no,

It's one of those that speaks through life itself,

One of the rare moments,
When all there is, is in this room,

You and me, smiling at each other

Once carved to a window,

With finger, and breath of intimacy,

Comes alive, on a frosty day

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

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

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...

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

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

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

I often sit on the moon,
one, real as any afternoon,
a place, away from here,
in my beloved atmosphere

views come soon after,
some vague and quick,
some remind me...
corners of painting, yes that is it!
where nothing happens, it's like,
silent waiting, for one warm waving

but when sun hides behind my moon,
and shadow of my palm covers the earth,
there's days I wave the sign of peace,
flip the bird at ease, then are the days,
it's all just old rock n' roll ways

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

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

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

You cruel witch with a poisonous arrow,
Left me here to suffer,
Wonder where the antidotes are now,
And as I'm laying in the gutter,
Venom running in my body,
I cut my limbs off one by one,
As only heart remains, I cannot,
For it is not mine to cut,
My heart, is yours, cruel witch

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

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

I've come to find,
there's two types of poets,

-ones that can't write a word,
and ones that are stuck writing-
in their childhood room

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

Love is a harbour,
Oh god, Amor!
Almost wrote another love poem...

Love is a Haven,
Oh goddess, Amen!
Well-nigh wrote another love poem

flowers in my soul pray for rain,
tulips, orchids, roses travelled through vain,
roots, leaves, thorns dried in the ground

lost glory of summer breeze,
ease before colours fall,
tall they stand, in abyss of time

where captains scream,
To starboard! Time of glory is upon us!
battle ships at storm,
waves splashes to neptune's wooden angels

cry for love! cry for peace!
my dear Star of Greece!
shed a tear for summer breeze!

Underneath iron dome,
lies truth of humanity,

between ask uncle elon and delusion,
lies truth of humanity,

somewhere in you, truth of humanity,
lies

So sings American Robin,

Seeks no time or place,

The idea, of great voice,

Well nothing truly, remains forever

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

you find a person,
and get caught,
in their broken life,
this is when,
you should turn away,
walk away,
with good consience,
and when you don't,
you are,
but a good person,
**** their sorrow,
to your already broken soul,
for there seems,
to be,
room for some more,
every last drop,
you ****,
and when they,
finally smile,
this is when,
they walk away,
wonder why,
and when,
you have changed,
cruelty,
of being,
but a good person

...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?

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?

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!

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...?

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.

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

That coldest winter night in mind,
She found the person of her kind,
Deceiving words by the man,
Made the woman lose her mien,
On a bus stop I saw this all,
I talked with her before the call,
Said to me, this man is obsessed of her,
I kept her company for a while,
She thanked me for reasons unknown,
And her knight came but not in white, nor in armour,
Black dressed, hanging suspenders and envy on his face,
Oh, how we silently.. laughed at the façade,
She joined him to the cold dark night,
I was left with a hope, she made her choice right

Death,
is no worse
than a cable guy,
who shuts down TV
for unpaid invoices

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' *******

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

hours pass by,
I guess days sometimes change,
months, I haven't known in years,
somewhere deep inside my mind,
words howl once again,
call me to write once more,
I don't want,
not now, not yet,
time shall come when its due,
paint pictures of a world so new,
a magical place,
we shall all be in a queue,
a world, not ruled by a few