Two streets away
I imagine myself walking
Rubbing the sleep out of my eyes

Waking up with the world
As its beauty is still pale
Not yet mixed with the car exhausts

Two streets away
Is the silver wavy water
As it tries to imitate the sky

Bike wheels floating above the roads
Runners racing the sun
Music spilling from that one headphone.

Two streets away
I imagine my blouse fighting the morning breeze
The benches filled with the flowers' happy tears

The streets hinting of awakening,
As the shy face of the peeking sun
Warms the hidden chilliness 

Simplicity is the key
Without man's rough hands
Everything is just being itself

***** feet,
Asleep on yesterday's damage
Not yet awake to indulge in more*

● ● ●

It's Saturday night, 4 o'clock in the morning. And I'm believing I just had the best night of my life.

I never drink for the taste, but for the small percentage of freedom of my everyday life.

Disregarding what I do to my children and my wife. I drink to black out and I drink to forget life.

Unlike my father I never drink to black out. But I also do not drink for the taste, everyone needs a escape.

I will stand there with a girl I don't know, and I drink slow to drown and torture my sorrow. Hoping one day my soul will be hollow and I turn out nothing like you.

Let me go first in the cave
to see the hollow-eyed, bird-face,
my ancestor, relic of reclusive
committment, eaten by hierarchical
grass, inch by inch.

Calories burn to free the bones
from the green pond, beached, skinned
and fished alive for a weird ritual
offering rice, flowers, tamarind and wheat.
Bald, hungry eyes were looking at approvingly.

I was searching unself papyrus,
to print the tale of agonising
travel of a small colossus, from
night to night to track a dragging sun
in mud and water.

O, groaning seed, you are the paradox.
Neither tree, nor root, only a promise
to destroy the fear. I will wait till the next
sun-eclipse, when you turn
outside into inside!

Lay man
Poor man
Struggling
To
Survive!

Who
Is going to Help You?

Help you in this world?

There is too much opposition...
Trying
To drown US!

They
Don't want ME to survive.
They
Just
Me
To
Drop....
Dead.

I
Won't
Give up my struggle
I
Will fight to survive.
I
Will
Carry on fighting
For
My Rights.
I
Will
Fight for others like me.

So,
Laypeople
Struggle no more.

Poor man
You
Are RICH!

The
Dialogue
Is
Never ending.

If,
You put a full stop
Where
You
Wish,
Then do so.

The beginning
Is
Always
Starting.

VIOLET.

My wrist hurts
Occasionally
From where he pushed me
And i tried to catch myself.
It has ached on and off
For three years.

My ankle twists
Occassionally
If i step on it wrong
From where he grabbed me and pulled
When i tried to run
The fourth time.

My shoulders still hunch
Into a flinching form
From people whose quick and too close movements
Were intended to hurt.

And I'm ashamed
And embarassed
But i know you get it,
But there's more that's left me
Less than before,
Than what i've told you.

Hot sassafras tea and shortbreads
Served by weathered , loving hands
Beagles introducing the postman
Water Oaks shedding their color
Dirt roads went on forever* ...

She said, " It was the best of times". He said, " It was all in your mind". She said, " How could you do this to me? He said, "I needed to be free."  She said, " I gave to you myself!" He said, "No! You gave what was left!" " Think, I didn't know about him?" I even caught you with her, You tried to laugh and play-it-off but I saw.... her tongue deep in your mouth---- and as for him ....what can I say; I walked in on you going-all-the-way." It was the best of times for you, cause all you wanted was to *****. It was the hardest time for me.... 'cause I loved you wholeheartedly." Boy! I love you!" Is what she said." I'm a man, that boy is dead....He died long-ago, the day I realized you were a **!" It's now the best of times for me, because from-you; I'm truly free!