You are an antique , a relic or maybe an old bottle of wine,
every time you ask for me , I get shivers down my spine.
Your aura is the reason I'm nervous and unsure of myself
'cause all I want is to be a silent observer on your shelf.
You say "there is nothing to loose other than yourself", on the news,
but how do I believe in this when I have your motivation to loose.
All I care about is still intact and fueling my happiness
so maybe I should imitate you again and be the "casual selfless".
Sometimes I feel I can look up to my reflection in the mirror and feel good :)
I cannot compose brilliant poems, sonnets, or verses,
and I cannot speak to you in Latin or Greek;
I cannot move you with any language made up by man.
Love is the only only language I could touch you with
If you only knew how much I could love you.
If you knew I love you;
If I were brave enough to tell you at all.
You’ve known me since I started looking down at myself.
What the hell were you thinking when you said : “ I’d be there for you” ?
Isn’t it funny you were actually there to pick up my midnight calls,
Isn’t it funny you were actually rooting for my crusade against the trolls.
Well, I fed on your optimism, twined around it and faked my smiles.
You could’ve gone along with my act but you chose not to.
You’ve known how my dry frown turns upside-down
And yet you make me figure it out by myself.
You please yourself by seeing me out of my comfort zone .
You are selfish, you use me to tickle your funny bone
But I know you mask your good intentions behind the sly wink .
I’m no fool, turning a blind eye to the things you do.
You’ve known places I like to go on a Friday evening
But you take me to the hole I won’t even visit on a Monday morning.
It’s uncanny to face someone else’s fears with them
And you have walked the mile in my old-dusty boots.
I sometimes feel that you’ve reached out to my roots,
Reminded them of my unique existence or maybe resilience.
You’ve known , yes you’ve known it all
And you decide to stay and continue the journey with me.
What’s your intention, motivation, illusion ?
I used to ask these questions and found myself in delusion
But I don’t care anymore about anything and everything.
I’ve known too, maybe not enough but I will always try.
A fire on some distant mountain under the grey sky,
the beauty of it's shape halting every passer-by.
I hope it keep me warm during a stormy night
and shines my path brighter than the moonlight.
The fire, a solitary goal for every lost soul,
fills the void of emptiness that takes a toll.
Survivors have named it "The Illusion of evasion"
and preach, it's the mind's creation to end desolation.
Am I a fool to have jumped into the common crowd
and reached out for hope sailing on a fluffy cloud.
This grand leap might bring me a merry evening
and let me enjoy my tea in Japan's pink spring.
The scenery I see in the fire has set me free
and I feel destined to become it's devotee.
My happy place is my reality now,
dancing like a symphony on the seventh heaven.
It's the kind of joy, that'll keep me warm,
when the fireplace freezes and blisters surround my bruises.
The merryland is not greeting me too long
'cause the reality will take me to the peak and spin away.
I can sense the free-fall charging towards me
and hurling my life back to the ordinary way.
I'd be a happier man if my happiness wasn't real
and if it was a dream that has decided to stay.
Dreams never die, they're like vintage honey,
the sweetness is complicated but it gets better each day.
I can let my summer go on for ages
and lie wasted under sheets of pleasure.
Living the dreamy life will make me a clumsy ******
but will let me hold on to my life's treasure.
There are some stars that shine brighter than others
but they're too far from here to be visible,
they hang in the sky like flowers in a busy courtyard
that's hosting expensive suits and leather boots.
Summer evenings keep the imperfections at bay,
as a setting sun with orange sky won't let the warmth die
which I need, to survive a tired and forsaken night
striped off those stars that stay hidden behind the bars.
Some dreamy nights make the beautiful people shine
and take them to heights from where they get brighter,
to replace those stars that I never see
or expose the ones sitting in the cabin next to me.
To be among them is stirring in my dreams
and helping me pack for the jet plane
that is bound for an unknown upward ascend
with plans to take off but never to land.
Eyes so wild that you can feel the thunder,
Soul so free that you can sense the splendor.
What’s holding him back from unleashing his zeal?
Is it the Gods, who don’t want him to unveil?
An era, starved in caves like the stray
Pleaded for a leader who wouldn’t fray.
The clan’s ‘Hope’ hid in the shadows of darkness
Anticipating about all the power he could harness.
These manly thoughts injected into his goodwill
Paved a way that went straight downhill.
He had a charm that glowed like the stars
But was reduced to **** covered with scars.
He often dreamt of an angel during the day
Who would remind him to climb up the stairway,
A path that would reveal him, his might
And propel him to an unassailable height.
His life finally entered the autumn season,
When, all he loved was charged with treason.
The angel he dreamt of started making sense
‘Cause all his emotions had turned intense.
Blazing with fire he rode the chariot of wrath,
Condemned to hell were those who obstructed his path.
He disdained all, whose actions were abysmal
As their glorious fates had now turned fatal.