It is not that hard
to ignore what you don't know.
Much harder is to ignore
what you know.

But it's worth it.

Just him
and his pen
against the whole
world.

He'll lose many
battles,
but he'll win

the war.

I am the best thing
that has ever happened to

me.

Go away, Misery,
don't make me feel so blue.
I was lost, so I've let you in.
It was nice not knowing you.

Go away, find someone else,
there are billions of people. Why me?
For I was the only one who opened the door?
Oh, to Hell with you, Misery!

I don't need friends anymore.
Leave me alone, Misery, please!
I got rid of the ones I had had,
for one day they turned enemies.

Go away, Misery,
don't make me feel so blue.

It is too late now, you are already in.
It was really nice not knowing you.

At night,
when all sounds of life disperse
in universe of silence, in the distance I can hear
arising, painful scream of the earth,
like a howl of a pregnant woman
whose baby is being cut from her womb.
Unbearable howl.

It gradually dies
with the first ray of the morning light,
with an airplane engine through the sky,
with noise of cars, people's rushing steps in the street,
happily singing birds, and pop music
from a window.

The motto
of one of the Inquisitors of The Church was:

"We would gladly burn a hundred,
if just one of them is guilty".

Sounds familiar?

My time has come before I haven't had. So I sat in Oxford Circus
and watched men without home as they were passing by,
taking pictures of big screen above us,
where Katie Hopkins smiles.

My time has come and I didn't ask why I haven't come yet.
Who is to ask? Who is to blame, when no one knows the name of the game,
they just want to play, play, plaaaay.

I headed down the Regent Street
where hundreds in store and out store mannequins
were making a fuss. And man on the bus I looked at,
he looked at me but it was more like a glance.
Don't you wanna look at, or look inside? It's waste of time?
OK, so bye. Enjoy your ride. You're not from here, I know. How?
I know it, right?

I'll better go back under Katie Hopkins's smile,
where high and dry and where I can wait me never coming,
watching like broken mirrors shine.

If there's no heaven, then fine, cause I've found mine.

I am in love with the country,
which doesn't exist anymore.
I am in love with its people,
for they have renounced the war.

I am in love with their women,
for in their modesty their beauty lies.
I am in love with their language,
for the alphabet of death never dies.

I am in love with the nation,
who didn’t **** in order to survive.
I remember that day very well.
It was love at last sight.

Running away from the barbaric land,
where eye-for-an-eye is the only law.
Running awayfrom the blind hatred of its people,
from my own home, which has been besieged.

Fleeing the wars and heartless bombs,
hollowed eyes and kidnapped souls.
Runnig away from prophets and preachers.
From life after life and death before death.

It's like discovering a ****** island,
inhabited by people who you thought never exist.
It's like finding a city buried by time,
hidden away from present tense.

A busker in front of the Abbey sings
"There must be some way outta here",
and every step I take along the glorious church,
every breath of a air I taste standing on Pulteney Bridge,
every second of the peaceful silence my soul fills up with
tells me
that there's no way out of here.

*28.08.2016

More you want,
less you get.
More you try to remember,
more you forget.

More you try to be happy,
more sad you feel.
Less time you have left,
more time you ****.

The wiser you are,
the less you know.
The more you desire,
the less you own.

I'd like to be
a nightingale.

Nightingales sing
the beauty of the night,
the moon, the stars,
and the starry light.

Unlike a man.
Man sleeps at night,
only snores to the stars,
only gasps to the moon,
hate its bright light.

He needs to wake up at dawn
and wash his face
and hurry up,
and chase the bus,
do things he hates.

That's why
I want to be a nightingale.
In fact, I am.

Every death is unexpected,
takes us always by surprise.
Darkness always falls so heavy
from the red Pompeian skies.
Never ready for her visit,
she will come to take your life.

Even if the holy fire
comes to wash your sins at night,
it will wake you up and frighten,
it will make you run for life.
Suddenly, without a warning,
all your dreams and hopes will die.

Young or old - it doesn't matter,
man or woman, noble, slave,
saints and sinners, bankers, poets
will end up in the same grave.
Our bones won't be discovered,
unless by an accident.

Everyone has the volcano,
sitting over their town.
One day it'll unleash inferno,
even when it's quiet now.
It will follow you, if happens
you decide to leave, move out.

Every death is unexpected,
takes us always by surprise.
Even if you say I'm ready,
you will run and try to hide.
But there will be no escape
from the red Pompeian sky.

Everyone needs Peace,
but not everyone has the courage
to admit it.

All we really need is on the other side.
Everything here is a clutter,
brought to us by a random tide.

We see this world
with strangers' eyes.

Everything here is in darkness,
but fear you not,
for every darkness turns into light.

We have no beginning,
and even if we had,
we would look for it
in vain.

And that knowledge saves us
from the impossible
pain.

Forgive yourself,
if you don't know what you're doing.
I'll forgive myself,
for I’m the way you are.

No, it's not my fault
that it’s dark and I’m crawling.
No, it's not you to blame,
for not seeing the light.  

I would like to stay strong
on my desperate journey.
I hope Lord will forgive me
and will give me some strength.

I would like to believe
that you too keep on searching.
And that one day we will meet
at the narrowest of the gates.

This moment will be gone,
before I blink my eyes.
I'll take this moment with me
to  the grave, the paradise.

I'll cherish it like my baby,
I'll sing it like a song.
And you can call me crazy,
I'll stand by it proud and strong.

Oh, ditching it in the past
much easier would be, no?
But I will make it last,
I will not let it go!

This moment, one of a kind,
it'll never happen again.
Against the odds of time,
timeless it will remain.

You don't really need a car,
do you?

Good Morning!
It's quarter past five.
How are you?
And why are you awake?
Early start?
Or something else?
Tell us everything
about yourself.
Tell us who you are
and where,
and most importantly, why.
You don't know?
Hahaha. Fun guy!
You are a star!
Have a lovely day.
Bye!

I have tried to quit writing
many times,
but I couldn't.
Even if I could,
I wouldn't.

I have been writing
since I was twelve.
Asking me to stop
is like asking me
to **** myself.

Cold is the morning
and I don't feel like going back
to this awful place.
Will anyone notice my absence there.

Poor kids, they built Heaven and Hell.
Now they are running away
to the safety.

I wish I could say what I think,
without hesitation, second thoughts.

I know we have freedom of speech,
but something makes me bite my tongue.

Wise men say silence is golden,
but dead men say silence is gross.

I wish I could say what I think.
I wonder how some would react.

I wonder whose face would grow scarlet,
and who would laugh in my face.

How much do I have to lose?
Shall I just say it out loud?

Or wait until they tape my mouth
and cut my tongue, close the case.

Oh, then it will be too late.
It will be a bit too late, I'm afraid.

They thought it was easy:
they tick the boxes
and we dissapear.
But it didn't work like this.
It never does.
They should have known it by now.

The problem is,
we aren't just boxes to tick.
If you **** your nightmares,
you will forfeit sweet dreams.

They hate everything what is different,
but on the surface
they are nice people,
who wouldn't hurt a fly.

Haven't we all got two personalities,
good and bad?
Heaven and Hell in one?
At time it makes us dizzy.

Some of us suddenly switch
way too easy.

You thought you were strong,
and look at you now,
lying on the floor,
yelling at the sky.

No one will come to help,
you kick them all out,
warned that you'd ****
if they dare to come back.

You laughed when they left,
now silence laughs at you,
and your body, like a shadow
in the empty room.

There's nobody to save you
nobody to help you out,
not even to pass you a rope,
a gun, a glass, or a knife.

You thought you were strong,
now you know your strenght,
lying on the floor,
waiting for - the end.

She lives next door,
she never talks.
She never cooks.
She never has visitors.

She never comes out,
I only saw her once or twice,
not even sure if it was her.
Maybe she is hiding.
Maybe there is something I don't know.

She doesn't go to work,
I doubt she has a job.
How does she pay her rent?!
Or maybe there is something
I don't need to know.

She doesn't make any noise,
she never gets on anyone's nerves,
no one ever complains about her.
And still she makes everyone around
move out.

Or maybe there is something
I don't want to know.

Meditation
is the process of removing
goals.

The sky is blue,
the days are black.
No, it's not a song.
It's life.

The grass is greener
on the other side.
No, it's not just a saying.
It's a fact.

One day we'll die,
no matter what.
No, it's not a mourning.
It's hope.

If you want to learn
the art of flying,
ask angels, they are experts after all,
for people,
though they fly sometimes,
can only teach you how to fall.

Time to embark on another journey
through the islands of words, avoiding
dangerous pitfalls and **** the desire
to look back, knowing well what it means.
And no one wants to go back to the square
one, to auto-da-fe everything what has
made us. We strive for engagement with
the light—the mother of all lights. The source
of inspiration, the fuel, and the weapon
against the darkest nights spent waiting
for something, knowing that it will never
come. Knowing is evil.

Another day, a mission impossible to complete.
Whether the apple has been eaten, or no,
we would still be dripping this light
on our journey to the unknown.

It wouldn't be bad
to not remember anything,
starting each day from the scratch,
believing that life has no end,
making a new choice every day
deciding whether to bite the apple or not.
It wouldn't be bad
entering the unknown  tomorrow
with hope and love in heart,
without black boxes of the past
where everything is written down
from A to Z,
from dust to Dust.

Oh please stop swearing,
here is the coin,
put it under the tongue.
It should calm you down.

You were so quiet all your life,
and suddenly this.  

I know,
it must be hard -
missing the world,
the wound is still fresh.

But what about others?
Will you not let them to get some sleep
before the dawn?

Have you ever made a cup of tea on a lazy afternoon,
sipping it and getting lighter almost like an air balloon?
Have your cold hand ever searched for another hand like for a glove?
Have you ever needed a shelter? Have you ever been in love?

Have you ever cried when Spring came and touched a death man's face,
and he opened his dead eyes, and the flowers grew from them?
Have you ever seen a seagull circling skies the sea above?
Have you ever watched a sunset? Have you ever been in love?

Have you ever crossed a river, knowing there is no return
to the places you have graced with your doubtful confidence?
Have you ever found the answer, when the steel push came to shove?
Have you ever thought you were nothing? Have you ever been in love?

Is there something you remember that keeps you awake at night?
Who is to blame for these tears? Maybe you just care  too much?
Is there someone you are missing, even if they are with you?
Oh, I know this awful feeling. I am missing someone too.

Love doesn't exist,
until it comes.
Then is too late
to take anything back.

Too late
to leave the home
and hide
under the stone.

Falling,
falling has never been easier
than now.

Falling,
falling has never been more pleasing
than in this very moment of time.

Leaving
everything and everyone behind.
Getting rid of
this heavy burden of eyes.

The waves
crashing into rocks, I will let them die.

Falling,
falling has never been easier
than  now.

Poets remember
snows in July
and unbearable heatwaves in December.

It was yet another damning ritual
of waking up to another ******,
looking for the evidence and the witnesses,
It will take another twenty four hours, at least. - someone said.

And then it all started again:
interrogation of the local drunkards, prostitutes
and ****** addicts.
No one dared to probe and torture the good men of this town,
like if they couldn't have done it.

If there is way out of this mess, 
we need to punish the murderers.
But first we have to find them,

while someone is trying to hide them.
Typical.

Stars know
that you are beautiful.
And they know
that my heart is in bloom.

Stars are happy to die
for our wish come true.

They know they won't die,
they will always live
in me and you.

You agree with me, saying
that I have taken them out of your mouth.
Yes, correct,
like literally.

I dared.

I'm not scared of the rain
and storms.
Yes, I am guilty of being a dreamer,
so what?

They dragged my naked body all over the town,
in front of the manically  joyful crowd
of clapping morons.

But none of them has made me the horseman,
none of them has made me the knight -
none of them has given me the name
and the freedom.

So I didn’t feel any pain, any shame.

Prisoners
know more about freedom
than us.

The gift you haven't asked for.
Sometimes can feel like unwanted.
Even if, it is still a gift.
Someone has made an effort to please you.

Sometimes you don't like it,
but you wouldn't sell it cheap,
let alone give it away for free.

Then every day makes you thinking more and more
about pulling the ribbons and see
what is inside.
And if it can save you.

I overheard this whisper,
this gentle, peaceful chat:
Look, happiness is easy,
it's them, who make it hard.

Yellow leaves
falling
from the trees.

The quiet river
isn't calling my name -
it's calling me.

And when it starts raining,
you know it will not stop any time soon.
It grabs you, the feeling
of being alive -  but how long for?
A second, a minute, a day,
a week, a month, or a year?
The tide will turn, you will change.
The raindrops will dance in the puddles,
like nothing else has ever mattered.

And when it starts raining,
you know it is time to say good bye
to the places you have visited
and to the all things that have kept you alive.
And even now, it feels like
it is a beautiful day.
For what does it mean to be alive,
anyway?

Waist band
shaping the waste land.
Wait, time!

Peace is just a tea break
between wars.
Make sure you have a sip
before you have to go.

Last sip of water before I will go back
where I came from.

Please tell my daughters that I'll buy them flowers
when I come home.

No, I can't stay, take the gold, take my body
- I won't need it anymore.

I had made my decision, long time before I made it.

I'm not thirsty at all.

Oh, don't abandon me, Athene,
for you are the only one
I care about.

If you forget me, Athene,
there will be nothing I can live for
and I will die.

Oh, please don't leave me, Athene, alone,
at the mercy of pigs  in the mud.
I will be dead lost without you,
and nothing will make me alive.

I wrote few poems about life,
and the rest of them were about death.
I always tried to look on the bright side,
but every time it felt like a theft.
Every day I was left sad and bereft.

I wrote few poems about happiness,
most of them were about sadness though.
I always wanted to be joyful more less,
but every time I tried, the joy told me No.
And the sadness never let me let her go.

So I stopped writing, I thought Well, okay,
if it can make me happy again,
I will throw pen and paper away.
And I did, but it doubled the pain.
Since then I lived a life of a dead man.

Oh, stop swearing, please, here is your coin,
put it under your tongue,
it should soothe you.
You were so quiet and tranquil for your all life,
what happened to you?
Sudden anger, frustration, rage.

I know, it must be hard for you to say goodbye
to the things you adored and worshipped.
But there are others, what about them?
Will you let them to get a bit of sleep,
before the dawn comes?