I sit in an ordinary seat
in an ordinary office
with an ordinary will to live
and a cactus
I am surrounded by people with ordinary habits
and clothes
the window is opened at the usual angle
and the volume of the ringer is on default

we look at each other in an ordinary way
(No love/ no anger with a dash of hope)
we have families, lovers and cats in ordinary numbers
(They calmly invade our minds on our tea-break)

we work shoulder to shoulder sweating
with no fear of Evil or God
we have no ink in the printer, no problems, no money
no elevator

we have similar names, ordinary haircuts and shoes
we have a receptionist who eats carbs
the second floorboard, the one on the right as you come in after you punch the code and give it a good tug
is squicking

I am told that’s new

...to all that crushes a spirit

cutting through my thoughts
like a knife through still flesh
you stop in the middle of the room
with a chessboard and no corner unturned

I, ivy climbing through
every window of your soul
burst into green shamelessly
and have you surrendered by life

we praise the silence and seek each other’s arms
through centuries
and if there would be thunders instead of words
the room we sleep in would echo:
I like it. What is it?

...words are futile. Love is <3

the hailstones were falling like dragons
attacking the windows of the North Tower
it was a New Moon, the beginning of a golden era,
the end of a long shift

his arm stretched, brought the sun from the dungeon
tied one of its rays, gently to my little finger
and nailed it to the sky with a swift move
the clouds collapsed like a pack of cards
(Queen of spades fell to pieces, like it never existed)
and then he held my hand, his sword and shield
leaning peacefully against the rest of my world

once again
I watched my children play ‘it’, my women washing linen
in rivers flowing into oceans I never knew I had
while men sat in a circle quietly sharpening their arrows
straightening their bows for tomorrow’s hunt

is there anything you ask in return milord?
my fingers touched his arm
for the first time in a thousand years
his eyes whispered in love-tongue, his lips kissed my handkerchief
which gently fell to his feet and caressed the earth he stood on

it was late and we had to close the gates until the next morning
when we woke up, drank coffee and lived
happily ever after

diligo est...

poems with you start like the breeze on wild shores
there's salt in each verse and their words taste
like lips smeared in chocolate
before breakfast

poems without you are houses
ripped off at night by thieves
they are the empty souls untouched
by God
tombstones forgotten in winter

some poems are poor and some
are rich
some open the door some close it
some are bonnie & clyde
some jane & john doe
and some don't even rhyme


my poems come my poems go
rhymes laugh out loud or grieve
but from this poem on you'll know
why you should never ever leave

(I wonder if I should post this)

* this is an experiment between real feelings/ a poet/ a muse and their story...

Motto: "There's a little girl's voice that sings lullabies in my guest room closet but don't mind her; she died years ago. Here's your blanket"


the night squeezes moon juice into my dreams
and I lemon my way through thick syrupy words
going round and round above, in my head
like a dotto train
ding ding ding!!
(Luna-land here, everyone off!!)

fantasies of the weak
begging like potato chips in a bag to be crunched
at least once
in a commercial with a second hand banner and no pride

trouble was waiting in paradise
like paint in a pot
ready to be splashed over an Aston Martin’s window

how we laughed at this scenario, oh, baby!
how many times
we giggled thinking God is away on business
and this time He is, He must be
and He must have left in charge
Brahms’ lullaby, her frail mind
and someone’s little finger

one by one
they are pressing the button for more
I nod and
talk to them with my mouth shut
(my mouth is full of popcorn and wisdom)

I tell them to walk through fire with grace
save your words and
bring me an edelweiss - my eyebrow says
show me how you catch a ray
your bullets are buried in the snow above me
stop shooting blue birds
they’re made of plastic and
no thunder can save you

now and then
my cave is filled with the helium of silence
there you may take me hostage
while you dunk your biscuits in a cup of peace
magnolias grow without asking questions
do you think my big stick is a silly-Billy
or God is wearing white socks?

...dedicated to my team <3
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