Benzodiazepines corrode my gums,
Grey fills my veins.
From a dull journey
I'm coming back
to the House of Alive.

Thought it was a good idea,
Never been so wrong, my dear.
Benzodiazepines corrode my gums,
Days filled with scattered drums.

Benzodiazepines corrode my gums-
-Days filled with scattered drums.

Time to tell the truth.
As I do so, I won't use
the poets' tricks and tools.
Simple words will do.

My poems are a cry for attention.
A cry that hopes that
one day someone will see them.
        "You are writing poetry? Wow!
         You are truly an insightful,
         sensitive, open-minded and
         artistic person. You have a gift."
        -The words I want to hear.
         Yes, deep within me.
               Time to tell the truth.

A hope that someone will:
•see me gazing into a nature
•watch me while I'm gently smoking a cigarette
•look AT my deep eyes
•see me reading a book(a sign of intelligence,
                                                             obviously.)
•see me with my eyes closed, meditating
                              (a sign of self-awareness
                                               and sensitvity.)
A hope that someone will say
I'm intelligent and
A p p r e c i a t e   me.
Constant shaping. What is real? Is there "real"?
Nowadays, I strongly doubt that.

All these things
I've seen through
& through.
I've investigated their roots,
deep within the silent earth,
I've looked at every fossil,
and analysed the course of evolution
Yet they rule(d) me.

I'm leaving it all
beyond the glittering doors
of the Acid Poem,
with a corpse of ego.
I'm abandoning my-self
and all my theatre roles.

A homosexual man had a dog;
His only friend.
He loved him, his warm sun ray.
They shared laughter
and used to go for walks
                                         everyday.

Then, one evening,
some angry men
approached them in a park.
They beat the man, laughing, and
          killed his dog,
and left - made a mess.

He had his "punishment",
                            I guess…

The battering ram
Smashed incredibly hard
Against the metal shell around me
-My fortress
               My heart started to beat faster.
          "It's time to go."
                       -sword fell down
                         and killed it.

The lake has melted
wind and sun
stroke the surface
slowly
and birds play there
(deceptively seems the same)

A switch
a 180°
Different realm
A Parallel dimension



    Leaves and misc. items
    are burnt in the gardens
    they crack and disappear
    into the smoke
    (last clear-outs)

            Winter metabolites

    Rain falls
    and cleans the air
    off all the sluggish-dark things
    that accumulated
    through this bad time

            Winter metabolites






Winter leaves a mess
which we're meant to clean

"-I can see a Cosmos in your pupils.
         -Yes, a neuronal Cosmos."

Macroverse | Microverse

The Secret.
Will death unveil it?

Time, Mind, Life
Family & Friends
Love, Anger, Hate, Days, Years
You, Me, They, Us, It
God, War
Childhood, Job, Death, Tears
Religion, Politics, Money
Wind, Leaves, Sun & Rain
Children, Joy, Moment, Eyes
------- ----- ---- --- --  -  -   -

The dusk
Villains of the summer night
leave their places
and roam the streets of town.
Beautiful chaos and freedom
Dressed in leather,
Swirling Raven's feather,
Sweet black night

May's nightair
Cold and dreamlike
Come to me
Come to me

I've not forgotten
how your thousand
kisses feel like
Oh, I've not forgotten
        I've not.
-Your soft name
  means to me
             a lot

Uncountable things happening
covered by you,
swarming in the
heart of yours,
in the jungle
          of yours.

A chill spot in summertime
Sweet'n blessed
I had a slightly long hair
back then
Some wind was blowing calmly
Shopping for a tent
to spend the Summer nicely
Time, time, time
This special moment,
when Summer is chill,
wind blows,
mind stands still

O damaged ship,
Voyager of the vast waters
for years and years now.
How many things have you seen?
Storms you witnessed,
Islands visited?
There's a certain beauty
in the way your body is scarred
by time.
Sail on, o elder ship.

How can we dance
when the birds
are dead?
Cut the tumor
out of my mind
(not my soul
-it is pure,
            beautiful.)

I woke up too late,
my train has left.
         That's how
             I feel.
2000 years old train
Destination: City of the Sane.
I will catch it,
however, I'll leave
before the final station
Is reached.

I don't mind
roaming the woods for ever,
walking the meadows
and climbing the hills.

     I refuse.

Sitting beside methane sea
Gazing at the Saturn
I wonder why Beethoven
  Sounds so good in space,
     In a place so far away from home,
        full of cold and loneliness?
         Yes, sounds of piano definetly
          fit the silence and beauty of the Cosmos.

So, so far away from home,
in cold and quiet
beside the methane seas
On my own - I find my peace.