Where are you?
Let me find you

Leave me a sign

A handkerchief on thorny roses
A candle on your window
A note on my porch
A scarf with your scent
A clue with a friend
A carving on some wood

Open up

Say something that discloses
The tears on your pillow
The reason you torch
The letters of contempt
You chose not to send
Although you could

I don’t get it

What can be the causes
For burning me with sorrow
For making my heart scorch
For making it attempt
To willfully upend
This beautiful cruel love?

I need a signal..

I am gone
But here

My memory
Still lingers

Like the hint of old perfume
And the noice of afternoon

I am here
In your moves
In the passion of your words
Like the waves of calm sea
And the wind behind the dune

I am here
In your deeds
In the soft beats of your heart
And the giggles of a child
All the muses of the moon

I am here
Still with you

As I string words together
From existing thoughts
Aiming at shaping souls
That will make the future
I ask…

Will there be more questions
Will there be more wonder
Will there be more action
Or just more plunder

Will there be more thinking
Will there be more linking
Will there be more sinking
In the depth of life

Will there be more focus
Will there be more locus
Or just more shrinking
In the width of sight

Will there be less shirking
Will there be less cringing
Or just more complaining
About the strive

This side
Oppresses in one
The center of the universe

That side
Oppresses through the many
The chosen ones

Injustice happens in many ways
At least let us choose

The saboteurs
Are not only those
Who tell lies

But us
Who help them
Defeat us

By closing the window
And blaming the sun
For not shining in

That…
     is a bigger sin!

A wise man once said
Strive for knowledge, not money
Because knowledge guards you
While you guard your money

The aging woman
All her life
Striving so much

Not only fixing bodies
But hearts
She spent her life

Where am l?
What happened here?

Are we still free?
Do we write poetry?

Are hearts still broken?
Have we resolved confusion?

Are friends still apart?
Is hope an illusion?

Are memories pestering?
Is loneliness still bitter?

Are souls escaping?
Do visions still jitter?

What happened here?
Do we still write poetry?

I was not here
You never saw me
We never spoke
You never told me in spring
That you don’t

I am alone
This never happened
I never did this
I can’t give
What I don’t own

I never will be there
Maybe you will
But I shall not
And I don’t care

Seeking
In my jealousy and laziness
What I want to be
And when

What do I find?
That I can one day!
But never will
Because I don't move

Why?

Three cubs
The cutest of all
One little girl
And two older boys

All action
Swirl winds and storm
Roaming around
The small kingdom

Three purest souls
The wonders of life
Make you wonder
About your own

How to protect them
From harms of life
Feeling helpless
My heart like foam

They will be here
Soon my wonders
Lots of trouble
And joy at home

Here comes the strom
You have been hiding from
For years...

Your soul is jittery
And your heart
Vapour

The expectation
Of your ego
Like a landslide

Yet life
Is waiting for you
After the storm

Yet hope
That the rain
Will purge the droughts

That fire
That will eat
The ailing trees

And you
Making it out
Alife

What will happen
If you
Survive?

The well of poetry is dry
And the oasis
Who was once blooming around
Dead

Where is the rain?
At least the soft wind
The brings hopes of verses

Where is the night
That at least
Cools the burning sands
Of thoughts

Lost in the desert...
Of poemless dreams

Stories help your heart think
About the wisdoms of pain

About the plots of lives
And the ends of fights

We are not broken...
We are still fighting.
There is a huge difference!

Those who know how to lose
Can never be beaten

Our story is our fait
We write everyday
By standing up again

I don’t write with golden pens
I write with feelings woven in insomnia  
Inked with the darkness of nightmares
And the long thoughts of the night

I don’t climb mountains
I fall off cliffs
Past my escaping days
Into myself
And find nothing...

Breathe deeper
Maybe the air will escape the abyss
And release you...

She shall live on
In you
For lives are poems
And poems never die

The heart you plant in a soul
Is eternal

I am here
For you
How shall I help?

What type of balsam do you want?
Sweet injections for your ego?
Or bitter sirups for your soul?
Or maybe an operation in your mind?

But an amputation of your sorrows?
I am not qualified for that!
You have to bear the pain
Pain killers will **** you
Let the feelings sore on
Rot
And fall off

I shall collect them
And throw them away
To the dogs of forgettable times
And the snakes of ellsuive memories

Let them feast
They are hungry
For smelly things

You limp away
And move on
For love can grow again

Looking for the light
That glows her life
Inside
Quest after quest
Until she found it

No stranger she was
Just clearer
Shimmering her heart
Like a shrine
Removing all the dust

Ascending
Closer to the truth
Each tread steeper
But secure

When the tears taste more bitter
The soul becomes tender
And sweet

A journey of love
The ultimate
Named after a hero...

There you are
Glorious and mighty
Proud in every smile
Defying every plot
Of the darkest nights

There you are
Crushing all hopes
Of your demise
Malicious wishes
To undermine the sacrifice
Of your people

A push does not suffice
To throw over a mountain
No one can hijack a beauty
Guarded so closely
By thousand and one knights

There you soar
Higher than the sky
City of Titans
                        My Baghdad

She plays him
With her finger
A few movements
Seconds

Hundreds of miles away
She lifts him
And then throws him

Into tears he falls
A feather’s worth his pride
Full of doubt

The butterflies on his face
He doesn’t notice anymore

The antelopes in his steps
Only mountain mules

All the little birds
Who whisper his presence
Chatty little fools

He does not hear
The flowers bowing down
Nor the leaves and petals
He everyday walks on

He loves a dream
A nightmare to him
He plays the game
Straight into oblivion
And calls it love

While she...
                      Won’t pick him up again

I shall return.
From my poetic death.
One day.
To light the stars.
And be enlightened.

Look at tomorrow
Pink and blue are your eyes
Achieving the horizon

The fingers tremble
A sign
You are onto something, divine

The shift
When the mountains roar
What do you find?

Slow
Sweat
The wisdom of the tree

Together
We want to see the truth
Begin

Rectangular
Nothing in particular
Just a tiny nasty thought
Trying hard to fit it in
With some thoughts, triangular
And some loops, circles of sort

All the time my mind just crunches
Like a puzzle , crack that code
And the sweat and the headache
Going on throughout the night

And once I am finally done
I destroy everything, cold
All memory of it gone
And it start once more, again

The bones scream
Hard
Louder than the night

The mind dances
Obsessed
Round some trivial thoughts

The body burns
Alarm
No sweat can **** the flames

Insomina
The eyelids close
When morning opens eyes

Smelling the sunrise
All the new light
And the chances
That are ahead.

Feeling the wind blow
And its freshness
The soul of the world
Coming to life

When the dreams
And the nightmares
All die of
All as before

When your loved ones
Are around you
Or you remember
They are not

When you wonder
What just happened
How it did come
To what is now?

When you ask yourself
Where did all the years
And all your goals
Just disappear?

Smelling the sunrise
And the new days
And the bad smell
Of your old ones

Smelling the surise
Is how your life smells
You decide
If good or bad...

Come out now
It doesn't seem like it
But it is over
You are free

I don't know how
But you made it
You are strong
It doesn't seem like it
But you have always been

Come out
Let the sun shine on you
Or you shine on the sun
Let your light defeat darkness
And gift the future a ray of hope

Drink
And wash yourself
The water will clean you
But only your face
Your heart does not need washing
It's clean and pure and grace

Breath
You have been under the rubble
Your lungs full of dust
Embrace the space
Say something
And relieve life from its shock

That look you have
That look is killing
It is a death sentence
To the conscience of humanity
To be hanged by shame
And sorrow
And failure

Smile little child
But before that, cry
Cry out loud
And weep your pain out
Uncover the criminals

What did they do to you...

My mind is in an abyss of oblivion
From not believing what I see
A poet believes
That a word is worth thousand pictures
But some pictures
They are worth thousand nightmares
While I am awake and gasping for words to breathe
I can't imagine how I should feel
When seeing all the things I see
I can't realize what to think
Caught by a tornado of dispair
As helpness as one can be
To survive, one must have a heart of steel
To admit that the pictures are real
But all I manage to say is
It is not fair....

Minimal
Live could be more optimal
If you let go of things, trivial
And focus on the real capital
Time and space, the memory
Of experiences, friends, and family
Nice gestures and charity
The joy of clarity
The depth of sanity
A better grasp of reality
More options through more money
By spending on what matters

Minimal
To love people and not things
To be who you are and not what you own
A tidiness in hindsight, in the mind
A sense of being light, feeling right
Another understanding of freedom and slavery
The slavery of things
When you don’t own things but things you
Because things hold you back and therefore
Freedom comes from less stuff, not more

Nostalgia?
But here is the thing
Memories might die
If you cut off their wings
If you capture them in things
And lock them up in dark closets
They live in your mind, not in items
They need to be free
Fresh, revived, preserved
Through presence, not hoarding

Memories live
Through pictures
Digitized in devices
Always in your pocket
Cherished in your mind

Memories live
Through words
Written by you
In diaries worth keeping
Which take you back in time
But don’t fill up your space

Memories live
Through stories
You tell others and others tell you
Face to face and soul to soul
With some coffee in-between

Minimal
Clutter is not optional
Get rid of worthless stuff
Boxes and countless little toys
One zillion paper clips
Sad chairs and old clothes
And all the dusty things
That occupy your life
And turn it into junk

Spend less
Less things
Think more
Be free
Live life
Minimal

War in the air
Love in the soil
The patience of water
The seeds of hope
And an understanding sun
The gardener knows well that
Peace grows slowly
But is flowers smell wonderful
Fruits so tasty
Determination...
To feed the children with juicy fruits...

"Make the air fresh again!"

Men cry too
But quietly
Their sorrows are loneliness
Like acid burning into the silence
Of their disguised troubles

They sob too
But you can't see
Because their tears
Mix with their pride
In face of atrocities
Soaked in salty tragedies

They cry asleep
When the nightmares come
Suffocating their throats awake
In a pond of sweat

When their tears dig
Like shovels
Ditches in their faces
To burry their feelings
Under the look of death
In the hope that pity
Doesn't fire a last shot
In their motionless corpse of emotions
Decomposing since years

Men look sad too
But only when their sun goes down
After a tiresome day of pain
To leave them with a dim expression
Falling into the lost thoughts of the night

Men cry too
Alone

Words in my head
Stir up with the thoughts of the day
Mix into torment

I am looming around
Nowhere but inward
Deeper into the oblivion
Of unspoken poems

But they
Eventually
Will be out
Explode in sparks
To rattle the existence
That wraps my destiny
To set me
Once more
Free...

I’m back
Though never really gone...

Broken in pieces like thin branches for wood fire;
Worn out like a cloth fifty years old;
A trunk invaded by termites,
Rolling down a hill full of rocks;
A carpet walked over with ***** shoes,
Covering the floor of a once busy hallway,
Now abandoned and invaded by mold;
The paleness of a ruin one thousand years old,
Submerged in a thick sea of fog;
The rust on an old broken truck,
Mixed with dust to form an adhesive substance,
Eating the metal through to its core;

Combine this all together,
And imagine it's a feeling.
That's how I am feeling right now...

Acid in my eyes
Writing, reading, researching
Leaf in vast ocean

Today she said
To herself

'I love you'

And broke in tears
She has been shamed
Without knowing
Lived in fears
Not realizing
Fear and shame
Has been eating her up
From inside
Forever
Without her
Having a name
For those deep pains

But in these days
After writing poems
And  dreaming awake
And feeling things
Not felt before
She now sees
With clear mind
What hurts
And why
And that she could
In fact she should
Have a better life
In which she strives
To explore the land
She call home

Herself...

And rebuild it
With beautiful words
Only poets can create...

How does it taste
My hand...?
The hand that fed you...!
You have been chewing on it
Through and through
For a while now...

The hand that hurts
From providing...
So much
That it came close to breaking
Just to protect you
From starving

The hand that hurts
And shakes
So much
That I can't even eat with it anymore
And as such
Will remain
Hungry
And probably die

I'm angry

I am angry with you
But the worst thing is
That I can't hate you
Because hating somebody you love
Hurts even more

I am angry
Because in my core
I was sure that you would do that
And all I did was
Ignore...
And you thought I didn't have a clue?
I gave you the cue
For this to happen
And I didn't pull my hand
And accepted for it to remain soar
Full of marks from your bites
And the endless nights
Of providing..
For such a long time
Telling myself
It’s fine
Because the bite
Of somebody you love
Is sweet
As honey

But now you are full
And it doesn't matter if I pull
Or leave my hand there
For you to take a last bite
You are just waiting for the fight
So that you can run away
And never look at me again

How does it feel
To be a traiter
How does it taste?
Bitter?
Only my tongue
My hand is sweet

Hand biter...!

[...]

                       ;..'

Photography* is poetry using light.
Poetry is painting with words.
Painting is sculpting on eyes.
Sculpting is music for stones.
Music is writing through feelings.
Writing is pottery with thoughts.
Pottery is photography of clay.