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Irina BBota Jan 2019
Don't want any songs of a gun,
don't want to hurt anyone,
don't want any endless run
no more. I've had enough. I'm done.

No more indomitable tease,
no more spirits in chains like these,
no more falling on our knees,
don't want any war, no more, please.

Don't want any debt to the danger,
don't want a family picture with me as a stranger,
don't want to be haunted down by a ranger
no more. This is major.

No more unreasonable favours,
no more not knowing the food's flavours,
no more fighting with the neighbours,
don't want any more bodies arranged in layers.

Don't want any legion just for feeding my pride,
don't want any more crossroads inside,
don't want my happiness to be denied
no more. Too many people had died.
Irina BBota Jan 2019
I left my thoughts on the pillow
and started waltzing on the carpet barefoot
just to see that wicked smile of yours
while the cloud's throwing out its soot,
making alliances with the purple storm,
unwelcoming the beauty of the darkness
the one between the stars,
keeping us in the fortress of unfulfilled dreams,
leaving us all behind stainless steel made bars.

I left my thoughts on the pillow,
the bedroom sins remain in the night,
your kiss has left all my senses in turmoil,
for I was and I am a very old soul inside.
Charmed and crowned by Madame Tempest,
looking for a bone of guilt,
expecting the unexpected at a wedding's breakfast,
a brilliant book of menace she has built.

I left my last thoughts on the pillow,
and then I left the other dark half of mine
that annihilated this restlessness from my soul.
Now I can shout out loud: I'm alive!
Irina BBota Dec 2018
Ask the sun why it's so yellow,
and drops gold through my bare arms,
among bunches of white clouds as a
powder of the blue sky above the farms.

Ask why the water had just been pumped
on the fields, thirsty for green, and then
it turns into an embroidered silk skirt
balancing the years of clover's petals again.

Ask my arms why they have opened
to embrace the wind blowing through my hair
and gives to the forests green, silent lungs,
to beat the time that shows us a truth that's rare.

I know, one day our skin will have wrinkles
like the bleached petals, spoiled and faded,
and our youth will disappear between the walls
towards the nightfall with a lot of love invaded.

I know, even our brain will erode one day
like caves sculpted by the water that's thin
and will wipe out the crucial parts of us
to make room for things that are about to begin.

But... although our bodies will decompose,
they will rot right next to each other,
surviving the apocalypse that will convince us:
that our life was not a lie... but a wonder.
Irina BBota Dec 2018
sins in a suitcase
the revenge and betrayal
building false houses
Irina BBota Dec 2018
If your brown eyes because of my longing would weep,
it would leave on your soul black traces of mud,
I would fly like a hungry bird, I could not sleep,
from my blue eyes, the sad tears would grow in a flood.

If your palm would look again after my warm body
among the grass that is crushed under horse hooves,
the crystal of the night's skyline would give up its hobby,
on a curved field it would show you its moves.

If your ears would miss my voice in the summer breeze,
on the gravel of the path, among the crystalline rain,
you would hear the wind screaming among the trees,
your heart would beat faster, to relieve you from the pain.

If your lips would be kissed by my tear surprisingly shaped,
you would think that you are at a date in the sky's empire,
from the house of soul, even the verbs would have been escaped,
the vows would no longer burn like an intense fire.

But wait! An angel comes and your spirit will lighten up
in a world where things don't get old and die anymore,
to lure up beginnings that crowns our love, it'll be a new start-up
for us to be two stars uniting their destinies like before.
Irina BBota Dec 2018
When I shall pass the threshold of non-life
I shall be swept away by a soothing confusion.
I shall be a tamer of souls, a fearless wife
who shall sleep in the shade of a blooming illusion.

When I shall close my eyes for the last time,
don't get sick with black sadness, if you please.
Think that there was a girl not committing a crime
by speaking tenderly to your heart, on her knees.

When I shall sleep my dreamless dream
I shall stop from everything, invaded by a chill.
You shall find broken lines of mine in a song-theme
about our hearts beating in unison, as a thrill.

Don't let yourself be overwhelmed by the pain
and the chaos that might install into your heart.
Sip eagerly the air that covers the silence in your reign,
for I know, one day we will give our lives a restart.

We shall continue then together our afterlife,
we shall be able to look through the truth.
The time of rinsing dreams will be sung by a fife,
for renewing our vows and regain our youth.

There shall then appear colourful stripes on the sky,
the world shall think they are shadows of the past.
Overwhelmed by delusions they shall say goodbye,
for we shall be reborn, this time our love shall last.
Irina BBota Dec 2018
There's no one on the streets...
Just him and the Moon,
a few stars, now paying in advance
to Heaven for leaving him alone,
tonight... no one cared about him.
But, although the morning air is chilly,
he feels light, not like in the pain's fortress,
on his own, listening to his own silence,
waiting for her to come back...
for sleeping together the immortality.
For the soul speaks to him
of unblemished paths
when his eyelids go down
into undisciplined dreams.
Then, through the sound of a guitar,
the Moon whispers about a hungry love
that announces his longing.
The heart sings its sorrow in trembling poems,
he listens to the rhythm of the crazy whispers.
Swinging through some lyrics and music in his ears,
thinking of her, as he lost his soul mate.
He's watching the night loving the shiny stars,
missing her lips, how she gave him ephemeral kisses.
He wants to know that he still has wings
and the right to fly again,
don't let him leave from the wonderful life's scene!
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