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it's been a long trip since innocence
the distant city of joy
where my tongue believed in candyfloss
my footsteps in lyrics
sugar coated moments wrapped in colorful layers of truth
so many layers of truth

I since took a degree in doubt
they taught me how to earn a living
feeding fear to babies
selling carrots to dinosaurs
how all immortal things
are shiny posters on double-decker buses
running over bridges at night

fantasies are clinging to minds
like fluff to a sticky tape
when church bells ring till death do us part
I sigh, lift my pint and cheer:
another graduating photo.
the world is at my feet
people are stones
houses, shops and government buildings
are shells
when I move
they crawl sideways
like *****

I am a quiet Big Bang on a purple blanket
the sun chases me over the sea
and I like it
can you run in those platform shoes?
I'll race you
to the end of the world
poem by the sea front...
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...
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