In the musical magnificence,
Bright-blue reflector movements
cover the melting color of the sky.
Darkness forms a space of eating-
No silence, yet.

White lyrics root in our soul spaces
allowing the vascular happiness
to ‘hold on’ the feelings as being in chains,
as well as in the rhythm of time-
No sadness.

The feelings swell, and branch
in the flowing sounds.
They embellish the souls.
While sparkling, the sounds
spring out from the feelings
into the sereneness-
No falling down.

The souls reach their state of grace
at the ‘human touch’.
White words mean his seducing voice.
The voice makes angles,
dances the spring of minds,
and feeds the ‘soul time’.
The grace dwells ‘ out of the blue’
as being the first scream of the earth.
The ‘human touch ‘ ‘feels like forever’
the seducing voice-
No emptiness.

The angles change at the ‘edge of a dream’.
The inside of hearing blows bluely the words.
The dream is born into a new, decomposable
silence due to the saxophone compositions.
This silence is a canvas
for a red art of nakedness-
No other angle.

From a forgotten corner,
the 'moon dew' comes
To get applause.
No other Joe Cocker.

A red bird has flown soaring in the great height of the
purple sky. The thrilling scream was as a shrill cry on
the soundtrack. The bird has disappeared into the sky,

and all it could be heard was the sound. That cold sound
became fluid in the ears. A forked green lightning following
a zigzagging pattern appeared from an antimatter space.

The eyes fixed wide-open up, and the mouths kept silent.
A ship has left the dock to disappear in the mobile horizon.
It seemingly disappeared and reappeared based on where

the eyes were looking; the eyes were not able to leave the dock.
When the ship could not be seen, a prolonged blast could be
heard. Finally, the ship disappeared in an antimatter space,

where cold could illuminate and beat the heat to burn everything
as we beat the heat with icy cold neck wraps. The eyes fixed
wide-open toward, and red screams grew from open mouths.

The sun lost its strength to become redder than it was before.
In the twilight, its disk disappeared below the mobile horizon.
Its power was in the spirit and the matter of the freezing cold.

The eyes were unable to see where the sun was going. In the
soft and purple mist, they looked like little amethyst stones.
The violet light slowed down in the water much more than the

red light refracted. The waves of alternating strength in electric and
magnetic fields moved around the Earth in the tick of a clock.
The mouths murmured, but the anti-sound made them all be quiet.

From an airplane in the sky, the eyes could see two rainbows with
colors in opposite order forming a complete circle. The eyes could
move up and down to see the red light  that refracted out of

the droplets at steeper angles than the blue light. The mind could
imagine another rainbow made of complementary light wavelengths
such as green, blue, violet, red, orange, yellow-orange and yellow. The

sea shone brightly as a sky full of red and bluish comets having
tails like trains carrying hydrogen cyanide. Strange, sharp and
cutting words wounded the mouths stopping the thoughts to breathe.

The lead ideas fell on a field as voices
coming from a bad dream. The yellow
of the daisies became sharper than the
serpents’ teeth, and the fragrant sun

started to tremble in the wind. The ideas
would fall into a silent abysm, but they
have become as hard as those boulders
falling to hit people and to ****** their

reality. I am talking about those newcomers
picking the flowers and having injured
smiles. It looked like the life was destroying
itself under a predefined set of circumstances.

Those people had  ghostly, spectral feelings.
Those feelings began to grow into the Light of
God, Who has started to reconcile all things
to Himself through His Embodied Word.

You will understand the sense of
love, and cold raindrops will fall
down from an eye of the sky .

The words will resound through
this abstruse darkness of the
night . Your sadness  will be flooded.

Samson fell for Delilah while being the enemy of her
Philistines people, but the gods chose her to take
his power.He tried to make her be a good woman.

Delilah wrestled with The Lord, in fact, using her powers
of seduction and deception against the man.This way, she
found the Samson's secret. She could subdue him to be captured.

For sure, she felt sorry for what she did, when she understood
what real love means, but it was too late to change anything.
For Samson, love has been senseless. He sadly ceased to

continue this fight with her. He ought to love God more than
he loved the woman. He ought to know that faith involved the
sacrifice of sinful love. He became a simple , blind man.

He destroyed the temple of the Philistines, all their idols and
the people being inside it, after demanding the divine power,
when only  God's love and the Holy faith became important

in his human life. Probably, Delilah cried for doing what she
did to him ,but she had to fight against the enemies of her
gods. In fact,she has never really loved any man,because she

didn't meet The Lord while loving Samson,while trying to find Him.
She would know that Lord means honest love, truth and justice.

It's summertime. The saxophone  jazz
sounds are pirouettetting the waves
to find their own balance. It's a mauve

inner dance in almost everything around.
More exactly, the melodious movable
sounds become soundable movement

needing a reverberation time to dissipate  
the energy. The movement releases its  own
purity to become simple fecundity. The pulsed

sound waves are also old memories  lost in the
natural green. The saxophone  looks  much
more like a Tahitian prince dancing his love

on the sand. The singing mauve sea waves
have a sadness taste at sunset. The last one
is a watery mermaid and he embraces her

while searching the high. The sounds need
touch and life. They need to dematerialize
and to disappear into the universe. The

saxophone  remains a solitaire keeping
safe his evanescent  hermetic equilibrium.

I see my snowy steps disappearing  in the
snow. The coldness will swallow  them.
Wet winces on snow ,wetter than any wince.

I am more involved in  a  sharp  snowless stretch
than I was ever. I forgot that I'm existent .I try
to remember. A cloud is tossing its white to rain.

Nothing  never rains outside, everything rains
inside. Everything is tossing firstly before raining.
The trees always feel this. They are existent.

The trees  need to be existent. This freezing rain
is breaking the trees’ limbs.  Their branches are
encapsulated in glaze ice. I need my steps back.

I hear a song coming from the coffee house. There
is a coffee stain on my right shoe. I take a taxi to go
nowhere. This rain falls down over the snow blanket.

The snow is existent until it becomes  a bed for the
falling rain. I can be existent as long as I’m not cold.  
This rain  is not a tropical one ,and I cannot care less.

There is something moving toward. It's my body. There
is something having no beginning and no end. It's the
movement in losing time. Rain and snow need time

to prove their similar personality and their  different
appearance .Time is existent. I’m not existent in another
particular time. I can’t come into existence twice.