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

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

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

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...

Oh how the ruins of romance are sad,
kissing in the rain, wet, cold, just bad,
dancing in the moonlight drunken, just fab,
wondering should this turn me on,
or I just embarrass myself,
in front of Hermione, next,
comes morning and it's due,
screaming        
                             "nevermore!"

I open the attics window,
For I crave a cigarette,
I see trees,
Clothed in snow,
Under white dots,
That some call stars,
It is cold,
While cigarette clothes me,
And warms a poets heart

Tie my happiness to the sky,

Where everything remains,

Unmoved.

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

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

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.

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

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.

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

*** 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!

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

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

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

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!

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

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!

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

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' *******

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

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

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!

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!

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

...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 two roads
diverges, hoax!
there's a lone crow,
on every highway,
one that i vow,
resembles,
a modern day poet,
breadcrumbs,
in a blistering,
debauched sphere,
thy be our totem,
post-mortem gravestone;
"death by thousand poems"

You took my love afar,
like video killed a radio star,
left me standing in the shore,
no more ice cream in my cone,
what a beautiful trick, by dondurma man

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

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

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

read Bukowski
make mistakes that twists your gut,
lay on the shower floor,
so cold, even warm water doesn't help,
make eye contact, when you're death afraid,
drop out of school,
lose some friends,
how else would you learn life

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

Once you, you and you,
made me cry in my room,
and when I say,
I'm happy for you,
I truly mean it

And all those times,
I curse you, you and you,
late at night in my room,
and you're all dead to me,
just know,
I don't mean it

As there must be,
balance in the world,
there are you,
and me,
writing opposite word

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.

I've had my fair share of travels,
touched, the most glorious flower,
been, in the unforeseen sea,
lands of gold, peace, never to be reached

                     -

what lies now, at home,
nothing here, yet all thee,
within me

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

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