I am drinking coffee,
and it's not the best cup of coffee in the world,
I must say.
But I am not complaining,
I had it worse
and in comparison,
this one is just okay.

And I remember
when I couldn't afford a cup of coffee.
Not long time ago.
I thought it was impossible for me
to go broke.
But well, in life
you can never know.

And I am grateful
for the one I am just drinking now,
though maybe it's not the best in the world,
it's not that bad!

Partying hard
every day, every night
at the Festival of Poetry -
the festival of my life.

My bracelets
are flickering in the moon.
I'm kissing
the flowers, they make me bloom.

I'm drinking
the sweetest wine on earth.
I'm dancing
with a naked silhouette.

I'll be dancing
until the very last breath.

There will be no hangovers,
no regrets.

Talking to my demons -
it makes more sense to talk to them,
than fighting them.

Just need to find the way
to make them listen,
to convince them,
that it would be better for us both
if they go away.

Just need to find the way.
Need to find my way.

Where are the eyes
that never cried?
Where are the ears
that never bled?

Where are the hearts
that never broke?
Where are the mouth
that never screamed?

Where are the men
that never hurt?
Where is the woman
that never been sad?

Where is the hope
that never died?

Where are the eyes
that has never been blinded
by the light?

Where will we go
if there's no heaven
we can hide in?

Who will shelter us
if there's no shepherd
among the frightened hoard?

And when we reach the destiny,
who will be brave enough
to open the heavy door?

There is no cars in heaven,
just bicycles
and maybe a few scooters,
unchained,
for there is no looters.
No trains, no buses,
for no commuters.
But walkers, and joggers,
and dog lovers
and cats,
no pigs, no rats,
no suspicious bats,
no labs,
no jabs,
but love
and lot of laughs.

They're trying to keep us quiet,
but our mouths
will never shut.

Yet we will stay amazingly silent,
when they will want us
to speak up
or shout.

When they win a race
the light of grace is on their face,
but soon it dims, it fades away,
and they feel like losers.

I am not like them.

One day death will come and take me.
She will give me a place to stay,
she will feed me and dress me,
not knowing
that I will never be her.

They died long time ago
in now-forgotten wars.
And no one knows them here.

Though someone,
somewhere
knows.

Pandora wasn't just pretty,
she was beautiful.

But it was a paradox
that man couldn't marry her
without her mysterious box.

The box was made
of jewels, gold.
Her husband opened it.

The evil was inside,
and it spreaded around the world
with a great speed.

Well, the cat
never kills curiosity,
but the opposite.

Let's not talk about war,
let's talk about more pleasant things,
for example
about how beautiful we are,
and how beautiful is the world
we are living in.

No, we won't lose,
we are too proud
to be enslaved.

We won't be told
what to do - by the media
and the government.

Yes, we will win,
we are too beautiful
to waste away.

Money divides us,
but Love will unite us
one day.

uncertainty
absence
end
freedom
coma
clash
collar
riot
black
survival
threat
output
understanding
trap
bleed
report
truth
beginning

You say your life *****
and that you are a mess.
Yes, life could always be better,
but could often be worse.

Magic carpet
made of the Autumn leaves
takes me up
high
to the place I would rather be.

Take off this stupid mask,
I want to see your face.
I want to see your smile,
I want to see your grace.

Take off the plastic gloves,
I want to touch your hands.
I want to feel your skin,
I want to feel it again.

They tell us what to do,
They tell us how to live.
They want us to obey,
they don't want us to be free.

But life is way too short,
much shorter than we think.
So please don't look away,
don't run away from me.

For life is to enjoy,
to smile, to dance, to sing!
Were we born to be free
or to live in a constant fear?

So please, take off the mask,
I want to see your face.
I want to see your smile,
I want to see your grace.

Take off the plastic gloves,
I want to touch your hands.
I want to feel your skin,
I want to feel it - again.

Because the moon
and because the stars.

Because light matters
when it's dark.

Because they need
a bit of silence
to survive.

The best prayer is when you pray in silence,
talking to God like listening to the rain,
when you have this feeling -
when you know that you know
that all the loud prayers are in vain.

Poets think,
poets write,
poets pray.
Poets live
in the bright
yesterday.

Poets shine,
poets don't fall far
from grace,
because poets
have no life
--- to waste.

Tomorrow
- it always comes
too early.

Yesterday
- it always goes
too late.

Today
is an impatient 
 waiting,

for silence
after the heavy
rain.

I often talk to walls,
I know they listen.
They hear my every word,
my every whisper.

I tell them everything,
my deepest secrets.
I treat them like good friends,
I really need them.

If one day they fall down,
I'll fall down with them.

Some girls are pretty,
but she is beautiful.

She doesn't have to take off her clothes
to turn me on.
She doesn't have to look into my eyes
and bite her lips
to make me drip.
She doesn't have to say a word
to catch me
listening.

We will never be
strangers
again.

Even death
is our love's best
friend.

Rusty padlock
on Heaven's door.
That was not
what we were hoping for.

Was it worthy
to take this trip?
It is so easy
to believe.

Rusty padlock
on Heaven's door,
wrong keys scattered
on the floor.

So we're not the first ones
who made it here,
not the first ones,
who have been tricked.

It's not her fault
that she is beautiful.
It's not her fault
she has a lovely smile.
Don't blame her for
making my life so full.
It's not her fault
she makes my all deaths die.

And when night falls,
the moon is out, in lightness,
and silence comes
and whispers to my ear:
It's not her fault
she lightens up your darkness.
It's not her fault
that she is all you need.

They say: "Without you all
the world would be a better place.
No dead bodies washed out on the shore.
No guilt of those who failed to help."

We are like grains of salt in their eyes,
they wish we didn't exist.
They say: "We can't help you,
it's impossible to help you all."

But when they see our boat
sinking under our weight,
something tells them to send the patrols
and bring us safely to the shore.

There are lines
between the lines
and the lines
between those lines.
And another set of lines
inbetween of them.

Don't worry if you can't see them,
if you don't know what they mean.
One day you'll read them all
and you'll understand
everything.

We live
on behalf of someone,
who lives
on behalf of us.

We claim
stranger's prize when we die,
and stranger
claims our prize.

And you may feel
like it's you,
who chooses
and picks the stuff.

But it's someone else
who for you
makes choices
in daily life.

There is nothing but darkness
on the other side.
Black night, like an ocean,
with black moon,
like dead man´s smile.

Nothing but darkness
at the end of the tunnel
of life.

The flickering flame
of darkness.

Some people
call it light.

One day they will join
their brothers-in-dust,
and live together in the box rooms
under the ground,

where no tables, no chairs,
just beds,

simple beds.

My shadow
it wants to be me,
it's jealous,
can't walk and can't sleep.
It thinks
that I'm living a dream,
and to be me
it would do anything.

Be careful
what you wish for
- I say to it.

The gallery is closing soon,
hurry up,
don't say you will come
another time.

I bet you want to see "Sunflowers".
You say you can wait.

You can? Okay, but
what if they can't?

Maybe I would have stayed,
if they told me the truth
why they are there for.

And maybe, if they tried a bit harder,
came clean and smelled nice,
maybe I wouldn’t have minded.

If they knew how to speak to me,
if they behaved like gentlemen, not ******,
maybe they would have had me.

If they showed a bit of decency
and a bit of courtesy,
an ounce of a dignity,
not spying on me,
only with lust in loans,
maybe they'd have me all.

If they bought me flowers
or sang me a song,
or played a sweet tune,
made me feel like a Princess,
maybe
I wouldn't have said No.

Some people say they know when
the world will end,
the exact time, the exact date.

They say: Get ready you lot,
The end is coming,
ready or not.

But the end of the world
has already came,
it is happening now and here.

Just look around, can't you see?

Now when I'm done
with running,
we can talk.

From now on I'll have more time for you,
I'm not that busy anymore,
not hustling, fighting
against the time.
No more running
like a blind,
chasing my own shadows
I'd never find.

Now, when I'm done,
we can talk,
anytime,
just let me know.

I'm all ears,
I'm all patience.

I'm all yours.

Only Love matters,
the rest is a clutter
you won't take with you
on the journey - Home.

The sky
yells at me,
I don't yell at the sky.

I used to, a lot.
But at some point
I stopped.

I shut my mouth,
I wiped my tears,
I got up
from the ground,
from my knees,
I looked up
and smiled.

No more yelling,
no more yelling
at the sky.

This poem
won't change the world,
but it will give me a courage
to take another breath.

This poem
won't help anyone,
but it will help me to survive
another day
outside the paradise.

This poem
won't save anyone's life,
it will go unnoticed,
not read by anyone,

but
it will make me think twice
before befriending Death
and sending Her
flowers or smile.

One day,
one day you'll see
a smile on dead man's face.

One day
they will come after you,
but you won't be there,
you'll be far away.

One day,
one day the sun will shine
for those, who have never seen
the light.

One day,
one day you'll say:
'So all this pain wasn't in vain'.

One day
the unsung heroes
will sing themselves.

One day.

Just him and his pen
against the whole world,
he'll lose many battles,
but he'll win the war.

Let grey skies brew the rain,
let children play,
let men drive their cars,
and let poets sit and stare
at the stars.

Don't try to change them,
they won't,
they don't care about cars,
they don't want to die old.

All they want is to dream
and to write,
and to love, feel the love,
fell in love at first sight.

Nothing else matters to them,
nothing else counts.

Let poets be poets.
Thanks.

The day I met her...
it was a sunny day.
No clouds on the sky,
no chill in the air,
and zero chance of rain.

Some need a prayer break,
but I need a break from praying,
as the time I spent talking to God,
seems like was spent in vain.

They hold me tight,
they kiss my lips,
my eyes.

When it's time to wake up
they say: "Don't worry,
stay in bed.
Keep dreaming,
keep dreaming,
don't let anyone wake you up."

The biggest ever lie is
that I don't love you.
The biggest ever lie is
that I don't want you,
that I without you
don't lose my mind -
that is the biggest ever lie.

The biggest ever lie is
that I don't need you,
that - when I am without you -
I don't cry.
That I am happy,
when you ain't with me -
that is the biggest ever lie.

Butterfly
till I die!

Tyrants
are architects
of their own demise.

The body I temporarily own,
I cherish and I adore -
it'll be taken from me,
I will become
free.

The eternity I crave,
my nothingness I try to escape -
she will offer the shelter for them.

To the mystery of life
she will find the clue,
and the child who will die in me,
in her belly will move.

I won't take anything with me
on the unknown journey,
when I die,

but I will smuggle the image of her
under the eyelid,
closed, closed wide.