If it would be up to me
I would be facing now
...
Rocks

Cool elegance
formed by the flexuous splash
Wild is the temper belonging
to the change of the impending season
the bleak-dark growing deep inside
A passion higher than the unreaching
tangent of a sharp urge unable to cut
by a smoothing of a creamy surface
Opaque by nature
hiding explosions inside
Bearing mysteries of the swallowed sounds
of seasons

Seasons of all the knowing
Covered by  ...as if
the fabric of the unknowing
of the autumn waves
of the sea that grew teardrops
Washed away at once
by a fierce Splash
Shifting the mind
as the slapped face of the shores lamenting
remerge
Covered with its courageous green
A regenerating variant elongating savor
to the nose coloring the mind
by the help of a long Forgotten
rush of the algae unseen
diffusing Joy
drifting the rhythm
of a piano of a Turkish contemporary
unlikely to be heard through this maddening
storm where I am standing tall at the edge
In perfect effortless balance
Saluting the gusting and the turbulent
of all sides encircling to provide
the stillness of a home at hearts
As they used to do

O
My friends
Stay Stay this time!
As if a song
flourishing
the smile inside
As I used to do
gestureless
and they would see

But I will need to cross soon
the horizon approaching
Vertical
I only came to see you
One more time
embrace you
the last time
walk with you
through the bazaars and bridges

Our memories trapped in tidal fluctuation
Spanning generations over the Bosphorous
traces of dolphins patiently carrying
holding on to the edges
of old fishing boats
Wood hardly bearing
these ashes made of stars
Waiting to be born again
by my one look into the water
like the first one
A cry of eternity
and Today
I am heading home already
crossing this place only
where you brewed me to love
in this old drawing of truth
plainly framed
hanging
on this play
for a farewell

Ashes to alight to the sky
sculpting the light of poetic alignment
of you and I
in the eyes of the loving

A deliverance of Enjoyment of the being
Shall be my duty says a passerby carrying
The matchmaker's match for all
Until the final journey
where I shall eternally Stay
Stay this time
but
I am heading home now
I only came here to set you free

"Don't pop yet!
We all know who you are!"

said the blue balloon to the red balloon
as they elevated by their nobility
to embrace clouds.

I have never seen such a star before!

It shines
by and to
the sides of my eyes
but only until I’d look up
to see it Fully

It has never been there maybe!

or is it its nature to just disappear
when
and because I look up ?

or are we
playing a game of
kika boo
to test
a rhyming faith?

which could
become a melody
to the lines of darkness
uncloaking us

once or thrice
does not seem matter
to the form of my observation

sheltering in a multicolored ice

Catch this subtle point of luminosity
Now ! - If you can

and once you have it
Set it free
or Stay there
as if meditating on headstand
and clear your mind

before night diffuses into light
and shines through a crystal
with a hidden star inside

I cannot prove If eyes are not be made of its
material
and only a deluded mind  -Alas !
questions

such useless
doubt of difference
of the other
by the other
about the other

And the other
always and only
drowning
in the corridors of beliefs
and thought-constructs

but
Is it not pointless
Trying to catch
a star
Camouflaged
in daylight ?
...
and sometimes recklessly
at the tip of my nose
makes me giggle just
as if a **** tickle
at a mystic corner
on a lover’s lip
longing for its kiss variant

then
I look down again
Tired of the silly mind game
Just to feel it by my side
A sweet friend
A sweet love
Made of my trust
Only appears
to the side of my eyes
So what!
A needle tip sized glitter
sourceless
Living only
in the reflection of the reflection
of a night sky
Shining on my window
behind which I hide now

Fume of the mystic air
flows to create
an invisible lodge
a harmonic rhythm
of knowing the other.

Sanctuary of Love
shelters the Kiss.

Received touch
makes up
points of  Desire
as flesh and blood
from the etheric.

She,
A fluid transparency
made of interchangeable
unique crystalline particles
of unseen color,
Reflects
an indefinable atomic structure
Draws contours of a  body
that subtly shapes along the kiss.

‘Kiss me’
is a thankful whisper
‘Play me to a oneness’
gratifies the breath
along  her neck,  
lips, forehead  
and knees
an anechoic chamber of limpid breeze
rectifying bliss
an irrefutable awareness of joy  
a gifted  Unity
an honored desire

She feels the
colors of zephyr and without visualizing
grows into the derived equivalence
of emerging pinks or  jutting greens
she is destined to remain as invisible as
his’… not owned - not reserved
interdependency

‘nothing stays nowhere
a thing is not received  if you are not there
A blessing of the moment  is everywhere
you are drawn to where and what you truly were’

As the body gets formed
miracle gets real
As miracle gets real
the body gets formed

and mutates
a lucent gate
towards a universe
so The wind can pass

At the edge
she molds
to …
…. a
……….something new

The lover the love
The now at now
senses itself  
in white lines
a bridal delicacy
‘A flower’
tales say
with myriad petals
living at the edge of the universe

She reads the volatile coolness
of the warm colored
differently sized light trace  that
the fumes,
the kiss ,
the breath,
the blow,
the zephyr,
the lover
has become for her

she traces
his ever expanding Trace
so that perpetually  he shall progress
for the universe
while she remains
and observes
as her nature requires her to be
as their dual existence is conditioned to
as is nature’s one
unconditional
or Love’s

She,  the precision of  joy that he creates for
the eternal witness of bliss
Colored by divine light
of rejuvenation
of freedom
of truth
breathes
at a place beyond thoughts
at the edge of a universe.

Bloom had a gravid heart last night
She could not relate but meditate with leaves up

Bloom received a thicket from the moon
While she froze in a posture of  
‘a gift to be presented to ... but for whom?'

Fitted well in length on both of her parabolic curves
as if a newborn glume

a galaxy made of a wood flower
a heap which once a cycle blossomed
same color as the fragrance of a lover's desire
in a deepest clearing at the heart of hearts
at a holy spot where a ray shone
Just one night falling on one cycle  
to awaken a moonflower

She sings the magic wood's tune
to matchmake destined lovers
living in such mirrored cycles

....

The golden  bunch which she then gently grasped
until a fist would became its skin and pulsate
in mindful rhythm

reintegrating the nature of nodes within

reanimating the beat from and through the leaves

delivering health to All its unitless dimensions

The nourisher and the rejuvenated
the heart of joy
a flow
to  find its way this way
along the equifying particles
on one smiling body

she dreamt of

....

Next morning I got up early
seeing the municipal cars aside
with stacks of healthy roots inside
all to be planted in a day
to grow trees
in front of her little house  

and yes she could relate this time

first with bewildered eyes
then with bewildered mind
then with a breathing belly
then with a full heart
she smiled

....

*She was a mystery studying  facts only

the holy sand from holy lands somewhere in the multiverse brought by us accompanied by cows and rainbows as we do yoga sinking golden droplets of sun on horizons to bless and adorn as dawns on lands of parallel universes all of which we watched sitting at a beach on our yoga mats sipping the ambrosia of all tastes resembling a dance of romance of a summer spirit that starts and ends fitting to two marking rays both celebrated by the sun unquestioning but in full awareness of burgeoning of a rhythm of breath driven by grace  we are the players of this video game appearing here and there the travelers of Satya crossing time teaching timelessness.

• X is the one in your mind
• Y is the one that you see
• Z is the anonymous

a. If you slowly start seeing Y in a different way than what it used to be for you because of X;
then you have a new way of looking at Y because of X and X is the one that makes you realize a new self in yourself which makes you see a new Y.

b. If you start loving Y if and only if a. is true then it is also true that X is the trigger where love comes through

• This may mean that (me) the one that loves, has actually been willing to love by the foundation of a new self through X either will it be a thing (tile, candle, tin, window …) or living (elephant, boy, girl, teacher, …).
• So love becomes an inevitable thing for the one that loves (me).

c. If the interaction between X, Y and of course (me) makes (me) slowly realize the existence of a ‘Z’ then Z becomes what I have been longing for as the new love and life combines.

• Z is secret and as a result discovered secretly.
• The secret discovery is by (me) and this is also what creates Z as a truth – a truth only perceivable by (me)as ‘freedom’ – which (me) will be able to communicate to others (this makes Z exist for others but in another way than it is for (me)).

So then the question is which one is my Valentine? X, Y or Z?
Or even (myself)?

Notes:
• X is the one in your mind and not the one that you have seen
• Y is the one that you see and since the discovery of X you realized that Y has not been the one in your mind anymore

when the moon
draws a shape
maybe a flower or a heart

along the homogeneous equivalence of an
asphalt – oh are you driving so fast?

made of the frosty glitters of the night

show the generosity
to accept a gift
a gift that can make a difference

it’s been set apart for you
and only for the blessed you.

he is five in one
she is consecutively
one two three
changing
pitch
treble
pressure
intensity

to fit perfectly
in his one  
composing time

one divides to
all the replaceable and irreplaceable
limit approaches to infinity
parabolic ends stretch
at both ends
of all planes
at all frequencies

while
delivery
these two
shall not see
or hear
which of which
they themselves
be

their love making
the lance of
the invincible shape

bends the universe
to embody
the immutable verse
the supreme sound

where
none is
the undefined bearer
of the material
of love
of one

where
lovers
sacrifice themselves
for each other
within each other

become
a material of generations
to be activated by
a conscious flash

just a Joker!
reborn
from a hum
and
Alas!
the cycle of time.

Good morning!
You have been greeted by pink and orange roses this time.
Do you mind?

We actually have everything here!
They shape as we wish
under colorful prayer flags.

Flags receive their color
daily fresh from
rainbow harvesting lands.

We have dots of hopes breathing inside.

Look! here is one drawing,
etched by a child for you.

She says it is you and her
walking hand in hand
entering a building
which would look like home for you.

She says if you look carefully
you won’t feel lonely here.

They do shine really
these dots of hopes
She too is a dot of hope.

You just don’t need to think
It’s that easy
so they can outline with you
even almost literally

A cool warm indigo spot
hidden behind the imaginary walls of an igloo.

An igloo is made of living frosted color glass
We call them our red blue green recharge huts
similar to your dreams:

it is something like
when you would see a remote tea-light
with the side of your eye
and make it an ardent nautical sign
of an early morning
that fades to a call of
a nameless  
well known
yet unexplored
future memories
while
it is still so still

slowly then
yellow catches up

our sun
outpaces dawn
and mixes up jazz

an ensemble we are then
something similar to your differentiable landscapes
but ours are nowhere-differentiable

so please hold that little girl’s hand now
She will teach you home
this time.

Farewell my bike blue
I know the day would come to say goodbye
as it goes with any loved one
My eyes still searching like a hungry creature
every point on the street every blue is you
a hope of light but I know you are gone

I mourn today and share it with the world I live in
the blues that my heart sadly sings is for the departure
of the synesthetic joy we exchanged
during the star-years of change

I received the learning of each and every moment
by seeing you again amongst many others
standing there humbly
waiting for me
as if one of the others

We always knew a secret to shine for each other
You as the blue of the morning sky to release
the heaviness coming from the mind to deliver
a shine of hope in less than a moment of recognition

so way I convert to a light to alight light
and fully become one with you again

we come from a world of soul
you and I
not different in the essence of awareness
definitions separate us just
In our world all things are alive

I knew this would happen soon
three days long I received signs from the universe
that you will be gone
could not /did not want to believe
I did my best to keep the key in my heart
and until today
when a moment of courage was lost
when you were out of sight
and I lost

learning my new body unsupported
collecting  my new mind like
laundry spread on a field
a field where I wish to  kick a ball only
they say you become normal finally
like us you can cry
like us you can feel tired
like our period wish for chocolate
and halt and stop and accept that you cannot swing from a star
why not add a bag of chips to it and a TV screen
I politely refuse each time
I say then I have my bike blue waitin for me sorry I gotta go now

They try  and I try
to understand what they say
Do they mean they can learn things without becoming things?
but do they -those who assign normal -
not know that I have not enough intelligence to do that?
they also see I fail each time I try
as I failed today and also yesterday and also the day before
I don’t believe in normality definitions
no  we cannot be normalized as such or domesticated
but love
because love

Today when I got blurred he showed up
as predicted
at the side of a shadowy street
he gave me a slight sight look just
In the suit of Mr. Passerby
one of the innocent silhouettes doing as if he is not meant to be a silhouette  i said
not suspecting the angel of separation
they always take an appearance of someone
it is for a reason I know and I shall not cry
but I even cried

the reason let me prepare you well at least
for your go last night
It was a sign of a bird
so I cleaned your seat
changed your cover
emptied your bag
tidied your reserves
adjusted your saddle
on my return you were gone
with the key

I sang My Bike Blue written for you all night
still feel you under that star
and I know
I will never see you again
but the song brings us back
to salute us on your moves forward
let they be blessed on their journey
then I am happy - peaceful
each time a joy felt
I am touching your spirit again

Hey! What a cool man you are!
I sit here and realize for the first time.
Looking at the red horizon of the sunset
Tunes of red flights in my ears
make me flow along its fumes
Peace in my heart and  yes I realize
only now where I finally am
Fully one with my red *******
sitting cross-legged on a red carpet
noticing the red sleeves of my shirt covering my wrists
expressing the redness of the nail-polished finger ends
stretched playfully
above the blue green octagons
holding a physics of the invisible
as if a ball made of color
pushes blissfully towards the interiors of my palms
contrasting the red squares of my long colorful winter dress
I see the red almond heart on top of the last heart shaped dark-chocolate
left on the table just and wonder if I should eat but I leave it
as a memorial piece of my flowing composition
while I polish the red of my favorite *** with my thoughts
accommodating a gloomy **** before the fractured rays
As if I see the reds that she once saw
before her eyes got blurry somehow
As if these reds haven't been red for ages but now
where I fully am - as I now - can see again
So I take a mirror and put on a blood red lipstick
wiping hopelessly the gush off the irregular contours of my lips
till it fits perfect
somethings never change I say relieved
I still don't know how to put on a lipstick
and hurriedly grin back to check
if all sits okay so that I can start looking at me now
with your eyes and lip
Hey ! What a cool woman you are!
I sit here and realize for the first time after sunset now.

I said goodbye

she helplessly cried
full of me
for the first time

Teardrops of
the other
by the other
Not to impress
or annoy

the canvas
of the truth of I
remained untouched

but
this uttermost cry was
maybe a cheek warming
Silent expression just

in the conscious presence
of both

embraced by both

Goodbye to this roof that welcomed
our dreams…
Goodbye to this roof that
accommodated our flows
cries
highs
ties
pies
spies
allies skies
I s
Eyes
Aiaiai s ….

All of her dramatized stories
that agonize
are
to be capsized
to emphasize -
harmonize -
energize
so that
I s
are re centralized
re authorized
along the curly hum
For the game!
like the newborn tree
growing inside of me now
of
Me ?

me again?!?

but

I need not much of these anymore

and such are all things
that gave breath to us :
the in/sentient
courageously left behind
for a cry that bore generations
and such is her’s now

A means
that helped me grow
towards this no thing thing

and You

You ?

But you…
…?

An immortalized posture of a shoulder shrug!

Nothing more
and nothing less

You - as love apart
but still with me

by each one of my shoulder shrugs
like the nameless sage of shoulder shrugs

In the western ‘who cares’ style….
We are so good at that!
So …

so ?

Be proud just!
to be commemorated as such

I will Never
pick a wildflower again
to place in my beloved vase
I did it only twice
Shamefully
Watching the truth die
Instantaneously
and no we do not like duality
But there will NOT be a third time
for such sad action
You have my word on that

I walk now alone
content with a song
of a bird welcoming
my accord

Carrying your light
in my heart
Plainness is my courage
I know you now

Your love rains
beads of truth
shaping words
of peace
that I read
incessantly
as us

knowing my duty
I go
go now

Taking nothing
Needing nothing
Leaving all
Things and
Insightful of
no things

I am you
With you
Listening
Just
to these
final
immaculate
droplets
of hers
before she willingly dies

you can’t find
between the lines
it’s one poem only
reshapes consequently
desires knowingly
breathes simultaneously
collapses memory
forgets willingly
to be delivered by love

where every question bears
the shape of its answer
or of you
and I

yes it’s one poem only

you were fire in my dream
fire made of color
I say fire but don't know really
maybe you were color looking like fire
dancing in a space
changing shapes
perpetually
it looked like dancing to me
but it was more of a performing an unknown reality
I watched you from afar
A far as near as half of me
static and icy
sitting maybe
but also performing a duty
as if
hmmm
cannot tell what really
more than the awareness about our compulsory duality.

Deja vu
of Deja vu!

Activated by a reading
about some voluntary
and involuntary ...

and an awareness
about it...

Questioning still your role:

as something
slipped through
the cracks of clouds
whose unknowing
is helplessly known
and as synchronicity of love
slowly oozes to disappear
now

for good

and unfolds my soul ****
to the last remains
of my desire for you

in shapes of

as if … etched on aether

May these be an aerial view
of ancient landscapes without history
drawn by primordial eyes

A simultaneous action
engulfing
Karma

as white blood cells would
do to an invading agent
and digest to purify it
as a source of themselves

or like Martian waterways
as a mirror
adequate for life improbable
for unchanging minds

When it comes to forgiveness
In truth there is not a single body
to be forgiven except for your own
Let go of that self with an inner smile
Let these subtle flocculation dissolve in the pipelines
By inner knowledge
and flow Down the back
drawing the borders of the levator scapulae
On Both sides of the neck
where both lines shall meet to run down
through the gutter of the cervical curve
A clearing and space created for it by compassion and
Skin Replaced by the regenerated cells of the mind purified
And that pseudo-self delivered from the sacrum to the ***** of mother earth
with a truthful farewell.

I go on a trip to get a true
beating heart now
Like all the rest %of you
For all the rest of rest %
l shall pray to the divinity in you
like Swami Rama
I go on a trip to find out the la
part of my name
Being a part of someone’s
body-mind and heart
ain’t good enough for me
I gotta  irrevocably be
me me me
outta this painful duality
I gotta be free

So yeah I go on a trip now
hanging behind a sky blue
backpack
To embrace her thankfully
and unite us to the truth of us.

Thank you for your cautious courteousness
Thank you for sincere friendliness that  made me feel like a true girl at times  
And a puppet as such is jolly maybe and even pretty but a halfish heart
ain’t enough for me
No
ain’t enough for us

Thank you for your sisterhood and chivalry
For Such beau et bold souls I have sung for and through which I have become
I  go on a trip now dear all and won’t show up again
I go on a trip now dear all and won’t come back
I go on a trip now dear all to receive a heart of true like all of you
and for you and for us
I go on a trip now dear all cause I gotta be free
and free
cause we gotta be free
I go on a trip now dear all I am blessed by your good luck

that blond girl
with long long hair
is a color
of delightful luminosity
glaring
by a precise
poetic sensuality
of the tongue
tapping the palate
hitting the right note
concurrently
manifesting a tone
an equivalence of a smile
in all worlds

She –
made of lustrous transparent rose skin
is a goddess of temptation
the curling ice queen
on a museum floor
manifesting ****** to
not believing eyes
once dressed up
in tightly packed dark clothing
unfitting to the straight torso

jutting out the shine of
her far away alluring looks
the porter of ancient nordic landscapes is her eyes
which you’d choiceless fly through

She – the divine breeze made to softly aerate
angelic locks –
innocence of youthful dreams
joy may you call her laughter -unheard – freezing time
rebuilding traces of an unlived dream

She is here today

to harmonize the thought chords
attuned by the subtle passage
made of blurry sets of colors and lines
flowing at a readable rate  
along the dark November backgrounds
of an intoxicated Sunday morning

Red is still red in the neon
as if too early to be awake
clock hitting the afternoon
wall of fame signs rolling lonely
to haunt ghosts of yesterday nights
which have never come alive until they got brighter than the stars

Dark that shall make the silhouettes forget and reanimate
the never starting and neverending play of zombies
looking for a pure soul

always somewhere else
failing to find one

Flashes of illusion swept by the persistent horns

to be replaced in their place
not as divinity
but as an administrative layer of impurity
All replaceable at once
while everyday stays the same
while everyday they think is different
except for the old man

the old man doesn’t think
wearing a cap
sits there outside
at the most invisible corner of an old theater café

He sees everything he has three eyes
He hears everything he has three ears
He reads everything always the same newspaper
turning the pages in the same tempo of this chimerical dream

I am being observed I know
while writing beside him
and he says silently :
I don’t wanna read yours
but I can read you
if i want to
and he attempts to go
many many times

while I write I wish him stay
as if keeping an admirer beside my words
an anonymous faceless friend
and I speed up as I walk fast with my pen I fly
and he gravitates back to his chair again
restlessly

I want to finish this up quickly and walk away at once without even looking at him not even once
that’s the perfect scenario I think mixing up a reality to a dream
considering the urgent importance of this line makes me immerse and see nothing other than the self  but alas the traffic lights turn to green

and She – the profile of my beauty queen
holding a beaker to go
raises her head dancingly
arcs the neck
and in slow motion
throws a laughter to the air
whose weight should be a blissful wiege
for my loving looks –
made of a shape of a missing
of what I could have never been
– halving her pink coat in well fitting blue to her jeans

and she steps forward to fade away
leaving me chained to the glorious gravity
of this untouchable dream

on this invisible island of mirrors
which neither she nor anybody else has ever seen
but me

hopelessly sculpting now
a reflection of an illusion
made real
through the weight of these words
me is  a sad melody
of an autumn leaf
falling for her dream

this subtle passage
is the rhythm of
appearances of deserts
crossing horizons
sweeping mysteries
melting duality
to a mirage of
one day I will get it  right
type of longing
while silence remains
in one self-similar coral just

The sun shines
Skin becomes light
drawing shoulders
towards the earth
straight
dashing lines
Pull
gracefully
One part down
towards the red
One part up
towards the blue
straightening the neck
Fronts well aligned
with the back
While a lift
of this healthy tension
spans
from the middle
out of the hips
Joints know well
How to turn
and sink the distal
fronting a bliss
that welcomes in
a thrill
towards which I remain sober
as the music
softly fills
this temporary
Summer like air
I listen to that all

I never knew
trees move
always
with all of their insides
along horizontal lines
and towards vertical ups
in curly circular
turbulent motions
and never keep still
reach to the tiniest
veins
on top
one by one
time by time
non stop
and unitedly
create wind
All of the winds of the planet!
I thought it was otherwise
I thought they kept still just
Wait to speak somehow or mumble
until the winds would show up or
bow their heads
until they'd be swept away
choicelessly accept move or die
but no
they move as such ...
by all their insides
so that
winds are created
upon their dance request
It is a call to ventilate the earth
and they have eyes !
different than ours
they can see multiple skies
they whirl
so clouds can pass  
faster than we know to see
they see
as if we accelerated a camera motion
but also they see more skies than one
not like us ….just one
not like us …...only when we look up
cause their eyes make the clouds and skies pass
and all that they do  is all they can do
because they are rooted to the earth
fully …. here they are
always one with the earth
always supported by the earth
only to create that curly vertical
neverending motion
so that it delivers
same frequency creatures back to the earth
I never knew that they are so busy
always at breathe is not easy
for simpler ones like us
imagine not a gap alone
oh no
I never knew
until I became
a tree
alone
:)

we shall test once
this ‘nothing is coincidental’
bias
to sense all senses
as if not ours
to fill a bucket full
of thoughts
as if not ours
to place the body
temporarily
in a tree
as if not ours

and connect
these lines
to a wireframe
as the collaborative work
of the ingenious director
and the engineer
both of which
staged their dream
as one complete piece
not longer than
all that could be perceived
in one lifetime

“so much work
oh so much work
still to be done …”
s/he said
in the meantime

yet 5 minutes should  just be enough
for that ...resolution
without wondering and complaint

you know what to do
you walk the path
like a tailor
sleeping and waking up
working on one garment just
tagged as life

tailor that will sleep and wake up
until the garment is unpatched
so they will disappear all together
a garment that makes one invisible
when cycles are dropped

when autumn leaves shower
to show off
what they can do for me -jubilantly
as I pass
because I pass
I hear the twithoo
of the nobly circling wild bird
resonating from far aways and depths of the
valleys that are known so well to both of us
one of us though  forgets sometimes:)

She
the bird of wisdom is there
to remind me of
who I truly am
once again
patiently
by the sharpness of the sound
that contours the visibility of the thick mist
as friendly monsters of childhood dreams

and I look up

Sky is
while you would be reading these lines

No you can’t disprove me
nothing is coincidental
but I still like to play the coward sometimes
and incidentally ;)
hide under the safe blanket of your poetry
making it a patchy garment of you and me
that will be dropped someday
non coincidentally
for one love only

What is a day when you wake up in meditation
this body is inseparable from this light
and the mellowly blowing signless flag
singing only to one side
and the brown edge
beckoning
nothing else than its edgeness

Skin having already freed itself from the weight bearing traces of the dust of my mind
capturing smooth
the light –
melting differences over the bumpless
recalling velvety longing

not for the sake of the material but
Saluting
the freedom that has once recorded this twin light
long ago
on such surface

for its manifestation
…

bringing awareness about the tempter
on senses
and again imploding its imaginary cavities
on the touchless curves of a sofa
newly displaying the angle of
its wooden edge
drawing a perfect eighty five degree Invisible line
in space
towards the webless corner -just noticed-
where the eye gets relieved by its neatness
and relaxes
becoming the point of a trivalent stillness

This – the edgy- is a sister of these Sofa legs
Four in all

implying itself as a sexiest part of its couch –
couch of a type – as it says
owning each other
now
Like body and sense
in one posture
and in its remembered object name

and maybe ready to unfold memories Alas
if there would be openness to listen
or if I were what it could allure me to be for its charm

but No – it says nothing this time
mending time through fractals of its becoming my spaceless space
with the old radio set aside
never playing more than its silent tunes for those skaters in an etching of an ancient landscape hanging on the wall above since …
since before the internet age
showcasing a memory that nobody knows and can see or hear but smell maybe
beside a winter blossom
flourishing its inspiration

not understanding each other but requiring the same attention as my body does
or as the realization of a thought that I could not run up that hill as fast as that dog –

a dog being observed behind a glass and I am unsure if this observation could have effect on the style it puts to the run

or if my observation is being observed and that may be a reason of its action as such
as if it does so to show off – Really!
unknowing to who or what
and then again still …

AaaaaW !!!! Shut up!

No no no ! I should stop now

what may make a catch less of a catch
putting things of importance of a day on a scale of indifference
and then again what is this nosy urge
unallowing
interfering
asking for order!?!

It is a play.

See ?!
even if you like it or not
I am in and such is
You yOU YoU

A play as true as the one watching
Same actually –
Same as the one watching

Watching or steeped in
Space in Space

and/or
No Space

and/or
non of these Things

nonetheless
A day remains
Unending
as the mind fades to embrace
Wordless

*Like the day
rainbows are manifesting
from the heart of this inspiration

Oh the kiddos outta there
whoever again dare to call me names that end it with a Girl or a Mademoiselle

You at most reflect an image of me to fit to the level of your potency
same as to a ridicule of your fantasy
weeping and spitting big turfs of
-at most admirably-
musical words
as your age allows you to be

an equivalence that functions still
OH THE WOW in most efficiency
only whenever the rhythmic pumping ejects seedlings
to swim up the rat-race
from your reptilian starship  
parked at sacred ocean’s depths
crossing a few inches behind thyn abdomen
towards your jellyfish brain

and that’s shorter than TIME
oh the poor whining with BIG Holy One
hidden in the oaths of your monstrous
zombie-town

so now listen in PURE Attention to me (if you can)  

It’s True my first kiss was at age twenty three
HAHAHA and yet not even a romantic one
at most an obligatory
who knows maybe a task
from the higher self
probably to teach me
or the physical body -

YES and the last one at age forty
that tried to **** all the ****** futility outta me
the rest and the in between remains dark and edgy and thorny

who cares when it does not bother me
what business does relate to you oh my Sexuality
or the inherited ****’ beauty
but that makes not less of me when
I am now almost 43  
my coal black hair made of Sea Breeze
grows the beauty of my aging color
to the creamy WHITE topping of delicious wisdom cookies
baked by my peaceful wishing
the joy of my child innocence remains
to fire Passion and Desire
which I reserve
to one/ single poem only
who made me realize the truth of me recently  
that I  haven’t yet dated … a Monsieur
who dares to call me a Madame
with whom I can fully be Me and grow towards a maturity.

I feel naked when I look at  the moon today
Why ? Why ? What is there to hide?
and are we really so far?
Such a destitute gaze
alight to sky
Glaring with its brittle skin
Under which she knows
I hides
as a drifter beloved
Always lured
by
the world’s tides

I wonder so much
What kind of talk that was
held in secrecy
The one shared with him only

He knows that ‘I OF SHE’ knows

But not me!

It could have only been me  instead
and the ‘EYE OF SHE’...

Knowing now
EYE OF SHE is me
or ‘I OF SHE’ is EYE OF SHE

And I and EYE and SHE are all the same

So all are me  
or something like me

In essence ...of course
In essence...only
where
‘I am’
is same as
‘I is’
(this is not always the case)

but He
He also knows
even before me!

and maybe even
even his friends know!

And still and not yet I /

Yes I also suspect that
It is a possibility

A collaboration
says
‘For a divine reason’
presumably

But am I a conscious part of that collaboration?

Has that reason already been shared with me?

I mean the Me me me ?

Has that already been pronounced openly
that time...while in secrecy?


I wonder that ...

And yes
And still not I
Not yet
but
At least this part is clear now
Clear enough to be confirmed as such

But Why?  
Why on earth
did she choose for him
and not me?

I know there must be a reason
I know she does not make mistakes
But I only also hope now that
she does not really make mistakes

Or does she?
Or can she?

So I wonder
Wonder still
And so much
What kind of talk that was
Held in secrecy
The one shared with him only
And why
Why on earth
did she choose for him
and not me

O sappy daffy incongruous frog
Waiting for a beauty queen
to be kissed by
to turn to a prince in your dream

You want some lessons
on art?
You want some lessons
on art?

then come to me
For ye it’s gonna be for free!
Oh come to me
I can teach you how to read
Poetry
in manners that are non-slurpy
and slimy
As your automatic long tongue

I be a friend and a lover and a teacher
For the manifesto of our Love

We’ll read  as loud as we can with our combined reptilian heart

Let’s shout until we silence
Let’s shout until we can be heard
as and by and for the silence of the spirit

Without defining
Gentleness
to be assigned to any poetry

Let’s trespass these fake borders
of the image of our predefined
Body
in our  
As boring as can be
shells
made of the phrase
Only clever birds sing it as:
“This has been done already”
before
Your shout would silence
My Palpating heart

Please do not misunderstand my
Love word
and traditionalize

As mushrooms grow
Under rotten
Floors
Of urban flats
or lies
Like
La la la lies

and pathetize
Yes Pathetize
my words
Without understanding what they’d truly mean

When words
Combine to a phrase with the spirit
Truth shouts
but not the cynic

Like a poisonous
Venomic-Tonic
Made of the scared sound of your blood

which should have instead been sacred
by the earnest of our lovership

and
Without any of your definitions of poetic

You shout
You shout like politics
Which is meaningless
For true ears

A defined silence
has no power to trespass
Boundaries of conditioned
aesthetics of your
Learned poetry

Let's dare to read love now
As plain and clear and straight
As can the truth of hearts be
without the need of any gelatinous stickers
or the chess board tattooed
Along the skin softness of
our sitting bones

Let you go now

after weeks of insomnia

cause you've got a heart at last



hope it brings joy for a while -

my aftertaste...like:

'Oh the sweet bitterness I truly zest'



the wind talks wisdom today

so Let's just Hooray!

'maybe a heart kills but dies not.

Celebrate it grow 'n it will immortalize'



for A heart worth dreaming about

I shalll wait.

a thruway  Along the lightyears of ages

until you'll arrive.



Arrive at where we’ve first met

t'ween the Dead Ringer Gate

One of good and one of bad.



and be sure it’s not gonna be a next life this time!

We will  head on hand in hand along a secret path back home



so...until then

I remain

with Love

A

just Before
she approaches the counter
to scan and pass
she hears a sound in her head:

‘Don’t take the short cut

because it is convention
because it’s easy
because it’s top technology
because it pleases the tired body’
…

because oh because
kinda excuses  
humming and rhyming  
different ways
of sayings of  a
‘that makes sense’

all meaning the same
sung in a metropolitan opera
by the inhabitants
of this city

makes you up or your body
decorated by a lost lamented self
in a brand new glittery pack
made of your shell

empty inside
belongs now
to some stupid force outside

made existential by the soul sellers
visible to soulless just

you as much as of theirs
and by their approval
need to cross
scary landscapes
to accept the glittery pack
until and  if and when
you can witness
to forgive yourself

and that only when
you’re back
to yourself

again
once more
sadly
lost it all

at the end
of your life
standing still
at the start
of your life story

just
like I
but
who cares the I
if not I

your lives inside  
gone
while years erase a memory
of the futile
search
which could never become like
theirs/
promises /
illusions

so think twice
before you scan and pass

Compared to your heart’s road
how  long that short cut really is
when you are so far away from yourself.

I won’t find you through poetry
You are engraved in my heart
I don’t search

Standing here above clouds
my beautiful clothes
in tones of  blue
fitting well to the charming veil
colorless transparent
an accentuation just
for the deep darkness  of
crystal  black
long long hair
I comb every day
beside a mount steam
waiting for your appearance
as love
singing a song of ripening desire
to the creatures and things
accompanying

some lie aside to cheer
some shy away - Hide
behind rocks to listen just
I smile to all the innocence
there is
knowing all is living
made of you and I
As I of you and you of I

then molecules shine in air
things know
they can see and touch that smile
made of my fingertips -
the bearer of all healing

my eyes wear a makeup
made of the finest pigment of wild mountain flowers
tuned to materialize
by the blue glitter of the holy dress of truth
made of my love for you

my perfume is what I am is my skin silkened by
that fragrance of wild roses 7 levels above the sacred sleeper
that makes you forget of all things but the fragrance
then you wake up and say  
as if - as if it smells like roses everywhere

You stand there in a shelter of pine at my  doorway wooden
smile in such way that you are the carrier of all universal attraction
I give my hand to you
the soldier of truth - WE
we are one standing under that pine
making us both invisible
You smile  (in the house of love)

There I met you once
There we keep each other
Only there I will see you
again and again

without stories of the mundane
of cycles
of lives
experienced

I close my eyes
not to see you through
the iota of the sedimented
delusion of records yet to be formed (by you and I)
not to touch you
stop my burning desire
let it  burn in the scariest of my own illusive deception
let it burn with the impurity blindly beard
so is I what cannot be wasted
so is I what I reserve for you to deserve of you
because  WE
we live in a timeless tale of love
one moment of love
we exchange in silence
where you are the sun I am that one  crystal for you to shine through me
and create

*

And so I go now again
return to my life story
cheerlessly
but a must
for our common goal
of excellence  
without you in it
my duty is highest warriorship
for all
I am the green eyed invincible warrior
made of a zero or one
I go in wisdom and light
Peace is you in my heart

Hi
we are two monsters
stuck to the edge of the mirror
not needing support really -not to fall down
but
a spider recently threaded from our edge to the wall edge
a long thread to show off he is here
because
to show off also that
he really is inspired by
how we look like

Hi
we are two monsters
and they say we are look-alikes
we have different color
but we are look-alikes

Hi
we are two monsters
and we like talking to each other but
we have never seen each other

Hi
we are two monsters
we are stuck to the edge of the mirror
and we have never seen each other

Hi
we are two monsters
we talk all day long to each other
We wish to see once
each other
but we are stuck both
on two different edges of a mirror
and
once
She has seen me through the mirror
I haven’t succeeded to turn my head yet to look inside
but I have seen her aaa aaa in my mind…
and

Hi
we are two monsters
and we are so nice to but
we have never seen each other
we are both stuck to the edge of a mirror
and apart from each other
we talk all day long to each other
and she has only seen me once
through the mirror as she could turn her head

Hi
we are two monsters
can you help us
see each other
once
?

Farewell Sickness
You left me!
Invaluable was the darkness cherished
the beloved heart
body, mind
and half of my age
all of it
devoted to your love only

and secretly

You crowned me to your queen of darkness
I grew up slowly in our palace
where
I could hide
and
Stay
if I wanted to
always with you

Our home
the holy eidolon
…
but a shelter for me
as long as you were there

There
was where
we honored  shadows
by becoming shadows

The Black Mountain
of your teaching
was made of the absolute
Color of our eternal love

but Love
You forgot one thing
or didn't you know me well?

Dedicated by desire
I climbed that mountain
Kept my promise
To see  the irrefutable
To be the unconditional

No
You weren't there

You haven't made it that far?
or was your share to have me ebb

There was Black
as absolute as you said

Stroke my face apart
and I fell
at once for another
at an opposite end

One I became
with the luminous cilia
of a man
a plain man
made of brightest light

All of a sudden he came
All of a sudden he left

Seeing all of me was possessed

That loss slowly turned me to a sheer pain
covering my home
with an opposite color of white
I got petrified
by an equal fever to your love
and
A battlefield were my heart
lodging the war of the tantamount
of identical charge
repulsion of the supreme
dematerialized matter
cracked the eye
and I died

Colors of all wavelengths
between black and white
fill that deserted heart now

Yet there is a new spirit
sleeping inside
Soon she will wake up
and sing
an ancient lullaby
of life
not remembering
but with a knowing:

*I am of dark and of light
not necessarily of good or of bad
whatever you make me
I will be
which matches to which
by any color of absolute  
you’ll be bewitched
but virtuous
make a difference
by your poetry
let me be your
one magic word
until truth is met
in heavens

I play a game of chess with Marcel Duchamp
Stripped bare totally but with looks still in the mood
I make a final move to rook him into my moan
'You know I want to be the darkest queen of your dreams'
He lifts calm his queen as his eyebrows but without really looking at me
picks up my rook contiguously
deepens some of his penetrating basses and whispers playfully:
' You already are my sweet Rose Sélavy and shall stay so eternally but …
you know … for now...'
and that 'but...for' mutes my **** mount line
highlights a grin of an ingenious rhyme and briefs a victory
on every strategic corner he knows to reach so well to
at once turn me on at an endgame pattern of check
to mate
'... c'est la vie sweet Monsieur S' he whispers
' I want to be the lone king for my queen'
and pushes solid his queen towards my defenseless territory.

I am sitting here with you
sipping a cup of coffee alone
how interesting to save energy and space like that
using one body what used to be just mine.

how contemplative peaceful aware and full of wisdom we are  together
as I could be on my own before my fall
a fall -  a period  
equivalent to  intervals of states of innocence
after the fetal  and before the restored one.

communicative is the body in creative balance
walking on a line of  harmony
beyond a metropolitan valley
because it can afford derived fun
so to create surroundings by dance  
so to create matter.

speaking under the dimness of a warm bright yellow kitchen light
its morning with you now alone
I made a thyme bread for us not to eat if you don't want to but to awaken divination
the suggestion of taste by smell
the act of cooking
to trigger a required natural physical reaction
imagine.

I serve it beside the coffee as dry bread
maybe not for us but for the birds outside
as if it matters: the I -  the you or the birds
one sips - the other beaks
and the rays of universe weave

that's all about it I guess

this way we broadcast our mute to us- never heard by us - laughter  through a November mist towards a galaxy  where families live and can receive ours' as a synaesthesized pulse and can learn from - the way to become happy not like us but as a cause of ours'

He
purposefully
misses
letters
of
words
that
resembles
us

to receive
my ethereal
kisses
that shall replace
the omitted sign
on his skin
.

As I walked
the usual
dark alley
unhurriedly
I looked through
the living room
of three figures
standing around
a table
under a huge
glassred lamp
discussing something
maybe about the glow
which seemed nothing important
to discuss about
but crucial
to keep them together
implying the warmth made
of their circular bright light

I did not slow down to look further
just rendered quickly
the visible to eyes subtle details
of their well chosen wooden furniture juts and
the color combination fitting well here and there
to complement the tones of the woods as if
things were meant to be useful for them
were in fact secretly placed to color

I will also have a red lamp when I grow up I said suddenly

Just the fool’s remark longing to reserve a
placeless thought in my mind
Placing me in a long forgotten abandoned time
in no time
smiled
and realized
only after they all passed
as  if a ship faded
I remained
within an illusionary mobility  
swept in waves
dizziness like sea-sickness
reminded
through a fresh splash
of tiny airy droplets that
I am already grown up

Were these the call of the stars
I looked up
and left a frozen smile amongst

No I am not intending to own any red lamp very soon
Owning things require an objective responsibility
to build their unleashed memory
to be passed over to nexts
by smells by touches by lives to commemorate  

Stars justified just
They were my ceiling since a while really
of streets that  I live in to dream only
about tales about houses about little things mostly words
then again cannot really rely on or be relied on

Words follow each other and not always can I stop to pen
I immerse and be one of them
that’s then home for me
for a while for a moment
temporary
as is life without a purchasable red lamp
or haven’t I yet found that very roof  
made of all of me’s each fully longed
there is one obviously one
sometime
sometime when time is not questioned
and that’s only when I can make one
maybe yes make one
is an egress
like she always says
draw one
write one
as I do now
or maybe one physical one
that may be the dream of someone
who knows
as long as it grows
to something that can be passed on
full heartedly
with its imperfections
signed by the spirit only
for hearts
may they interpret it as freedom
and yes that’d be something
to travel with
further than the reckoned
counts left from now
39 maybe
if I am lucky
and for that kind of measure
if I am one
now
there still is some 18 counts more to go
till the Red Lamp
would that number also be good enough for growing up
Right?
or was the logic vice versa
hmmm so
obviously there really  is a subject matter of growing up still
the fool was right  in the end
right again in fact
with its flourishing heart
so I can then also stand to see
the you
in the glow of my red lamp
with me
Would that be in the light of eternity?

AiaiaiAI!
I broke the bads ****!
beyond the saddened eyes of a Notorious Funkyman

As if me were you
just to catch an incognito glimpse of you

Oh how I wish that'd stayed a joke in town
haven’t ******* like a bird on my head n  convert me to a punk
cannot turn't back
such an irrelevant inconvenient run
was dark dark
dark brown
beyond the thickening curtains shattering gossipers
at hours before the break of dawn

I don't do with tarot cards
my heart longing burning for your mirage
allows me not visualize

truth as is cruel
so I blow a puff
high tigh tight yotabye
n bluff you up
only how I wish was that a dream now but no man
t was no funky man
although with a funkyman
was so bad bad
and I!
after
as bad as you can be in hearts
and still me is so  good in dance
nobody could score us! ...Once we have had fans.

Read you thru the minds if not hearts and broke it open now!
saw yours was not true talkin to me
although remains so lovingly
eyes with  glittery in memory
as sad as it can be
if you not yourself convert it later on to … jokingly
I say ... like you
keep this a secret itsmak for luck only
then I knew what you meant...
then I saw what you saw...when you looked at me

I looked at him not with fake eyes of you oh love me true
and said Goodbye.
ie rolls a colorful bead - its a gift
with a who knows what future brings
me nodding agreeably
for the phrase only
Nay its neither for you nor ie
future a farewell at most
to include you both
and me
and I promise me
never I break hearts by puffs again
will stick to tarot cards  
keep tis a hard learned lesson past
where heart allows
if not minds.

There is a number that knows itself
Logic has predicted its numberness at most
but logic does not know to what it matches

Within its coordinateless space
beyond the mind
the number has formed itself
at the expense of fixing
a masterpiece about a lover
made of the shape of one’s desire
becoming that one pure desire
of and to and for  All

or simply invisible
known to none
matterless
formless
filling
temporary silhouettes
until
silhouettes collapse
unknowingly
about their
barbapapaic nature
to the unknowing

so
what you call

‘grand’  
‘poetry’

the combination of chosen words
made of letters
presenting duality
between me and me
made of the sound of the form of one’s
ever changing body in one’s mind
Vibrates

in such frequency that
when one reads
one connects one to one
( like in maths –
and a bit more complex than that
considering sensual feedbacks etc :))
and transforms
almost vectorial  to

some resulting frequency
of an irreversible altered state
and a doses of future changes
but such occurrence cannot take place
when once known

OOPS!

such occurrence takes place
if it is irrevocable of the finite shells
of time

a true joker
has a pure skin as such
through a veil of pores
nothingness floats
towards its knowing
keeps oneself as is
unknown to all the separateness there is
Thus the program forgets
(:D = thankfully)
or runs infinitely  at a place :
‘this could be heaven and this could be hell’
as in Hotel California

so
you should know for yourself
if you wanna make it love  
because

If you not
It’s then someone else
because
It is always someone
as reasoning goes

it is a manifestation of the self
a contextualization of a narrative
as story requires
as story unfolds

I always remind myself to
keep up to one reason just
which eventually are no words
but sound or silence of
a reflection on an expanding
surface of a bubble in pure
unfixable color

Oh
words of preconditioned unoriginals
manifestations of self adorations
what is there to be said or heard or grasped?

when All stories are the same?

Shaped extensions of one source
sticking out repeatedly to tell one thing just
expanding the bubble
within the bubble and the bubble

just
to be heard
once
as big as a
Hum

en route exit as scriptures call it
but am I gonna be able to hear it?
(or you or us … )

I won’t ask you why
when my knowing knows
why  

beyond stories
I am
an extension
of
unfinished business

answers to
Q&A; s
precipitate
as mind bound realities
on mundane plane

while all stories remain
mutually exclusive

when angels get deadly bored in  angelland
they decide to matchmake yin and yang
a breathtaking game of -love and hate- kicks off
their watch broadcasts meditative brittle glitters
as expected from the dutiful glitter brittles

finally they also have fun
oh the glorious common hearted one

but for a while it remains
and ubiquitousness escapes

within that while infinite loop
while with
condition always returns
true
  
assured  they are
to have hoarded a concept of none
because only none can break the program

it runs
through
curls and whirls
attracts and repels
hums and vector sums
bubbly groans
made of sour cherry wood drums
asymptotic shapes of ascension moans
'Oh yes this surely is miraculous!'

one for fun
one for ‘oh please be my hon’
Stay at the jolly night of proms with us
we are so heartily amused!

They travel beyond ignorance
to a pointless point of their own absence
‘for the land’
they repeatedly say
from far far away

lost words as such
slowly produces by-products
made of tingly-wiggly bugs
capable of delaying holiness
of now
capable of creating time
for no one
with a halt sign

until game of supremeness bears a ...
break!
made of HUM
a Sound
like none
heard once
along the aileron of  a vitreous dome

while
the unheard stays
with the one
and which is of one

wipes off that angelland
for the better I guess

you can’t do this when you do this for that
I said

she was Folding

oh so hurriedly!
all the time
in that
Eraserhead style

brr!

only to be replaced
for the next

only to be replaced
for the next

which is not here yet
and will never be

you can’t do this when you do this for that
I said

like a chorus to her verse
of each of these layers
she blindly holds
as if in her hands

with a duh! and a ****!
my layers against hers’
finally she hears!

and at once
transforms
to
her dress
socks
shirt
*******
blouse

one by one

by
my song

such a hard hit
only once
tinkles
now as a mantra
in her head

unfolding

all her
hidden
layers
slowly
and  patiently

I am fine you know
having just one
everyday still is a different day
by the light
I shine

takes a bit of courage maybe
but she will  learn
someday
and
on that
heartfelt day

she will
be
an  earnest
puppet
like me

and sing
just as I say

you can’t do this when you do this for that