... Or a black hole
In timespace
A supermassive
Imploding thought
Paradox
Pulling
Realities in
And bending all rules
Of existence
Along a splendid
Event horizon.

A single atom
With mass
And gravitational pull
Equalling a large mountain
Devouring all light
Unless friction
of objects heated
From falling
And interaction
Sparks light
Perplexingly fantastic
Brighter than a thousand suns.

Laughing out loud
they don't know what they've done
with their faces in the sky
I want to bring them down
and punch them
to kingdom come

Bleeding out loud
My heart is writing their names
in runes across my world
I want to tear at their souls
and pull them
down to my hell

Screaming out loud
My inner beast is readying for attack
on those people who mocked it
I want to unleash it on them
and teach them
what it is like to hurt

A lot of words
saved up
sorry about
the flood

We woke up disoriented
Blinded
The room was white
Unfamiliar
And painful

One started screaming
She had found her skin
Frayed in places
And then patched
With fur

Another one came to
But she could not move
For her hands and legs
Had been sewn
Together with the mattress

And a man
Lying next to me
Had been given
An extra pair
Of arms

I wondered who might be missing
A pair

****** was the room
First seen as white
And I as well

I realised
That I was holding a needle
And a scalpel

From accounts of the massacre
and the thoughts behind
written by the killer beforehand
and which I read last night
I have come to the shore today
to find balance
in watching life on the beach
the sky never this blue
and in listening
to my children laughing
to block the echoes
of what I have read;

How he had sought out the island
with the most passionate of youths
how he had gleefully shot them dead
believing that their views were wrong
how he hated them
and the people they refused to hate
and how they had to die
like I would
like my children would
if he had had his way.

I look up
the sky is still blue
and all I hear
is the sound of my girls
laughing

You bind me
You tie me in a dream
You find me
You seek me out in the crowd and
Blind me
You fixate me
You put a blindfold on me and
Lead me astray
You tease me
You pass me pleasures and
Take them away
You observe me
You watch me wreathe and yearn
You create me
You might even break me and
Pick me right up
You make me
You deal the cards so I can play
with you

One day
It broke
We stopped caring
about spiders and their webs
dust in corners
scattered toys on the lawn
and neigbours judging
We stopped

But then it began
the construction of new paths
new connections
outside us
morally deranged but marvellous
in their metaphors

And then the fights started
discovery of deceit
the heartbreak
and the revellations
revealing devils and demons
and dark desires

Gradually
It healed
We began to love
not sweet, innocent, postcard love
no! mad, ******, nasty love
a yelling, crying, caring love
not taking anything for granted love
We healed

breaks
extraordinaire
make tingles linger
through work
until later...

Momentarily we met
Words touched
On a backlit page
So briefly
We needed to flee
For time
Earth's revolution
Parted us each day
So, when you slept
I longed
For your words
Each day
And I shivered
In the coolness
Of your structures
You mesmerised me
Bound me to the letters
We wrote
In collaboration
On unreal paper
In the hours
We stole
I breathed this
For a moment
Pretending

sometimes words
leave the world
breathless
uncertain
until their return

The silence

of a thousand words

trapped

a concealed violence

in unspoken blows

And bruises

of a thousand blows

imagined

behind pending words

of obvious frustration

there are only few hours
till dawn
and alarm clocks
but there are bubbles
in the dark
under skin
inside
there are fires
and a puppeteer
with a wish
to make those bubbles burst
in amazing showers

I would fly
five thousand miles
as a butterfly
and sit on you window sill
tired but gracious
and completely still

I would sit
outside your window
looking in
and you would observe me
colourful and inviting
but too fragile to take in

I would stick
to the glass membrane
between us
and I would slowly burn
hypnotisingly tragic
but inevitably true

We smoke happiness
they say
we are happy
and we smoke more
than others
it seems
we die a different kind
of happy
this way

Her place
was among the stacks of books
And paper
In the living room
But she saw
The bedroom door ajar
And she snuck in
To dream
Under the covers

She slept
And left unnoticed
But she left trace
Her fiery hair fell
Everywhere
On the sheets
And on his pillow
Revealing
Her trespass
Their secret

An anarchist atom
Assaults the atmosphere
With anger and aerial arson
Bringing, begetting
Brutal and ****** battles
In my brain
Initiating chaos
With charges
Of chemicals.
A disection,  distortion
Diversion of dedication
And direction
Causing eruptions
Emissions
Of erratic, electric elements
Of ego.
Ferocious fires form
In filaments, firmaments
Feeding the fantastic
Forces
Which grow and gain
In greatness in gravity
Grave, gory, gorgeous
Gloom.
Henceforth hidden horrors
Harrowed in a hollow heart
Instantly interact with
Intimate ideas
Initiating irregular, irrational
Irreversible
Irrelevant
Intimacy
Jealousy
Jumbling of jinxes
And laws of the jungle
For kicks
Leading to lies
Leaving love for loneliness
Loss.
A massive moral meltdown
In my mind
Negating, neutralising
normality
Orchestrates an open
Onslaught of order
And ordinary
People's principles
To pursue passion
And perfection
In a poetic periphery
Quite queer to some
And quaint to those
Not acquainted with
Rushes of ramblings
Received and reciprocated
Or radical ridicule
Of rascals.
Synapses send,
Signal every sinew
Simulating similar signs
But transmitting treacherous
Tingles
Teasing,  trapping thoughts
In terror, temptations
To commit treason
Unforgivable,  unforgettable
Us
Vivid and vibrant
But also very
Woeful
Wishing we were wild
And willing to walk
Our wishes make wonderful
Wells of
Youth
And creative zest.

Refrigerator magnets
Will tell
kitchen table truths
About family
And blood
And how it will stick
Forever
No matter what
To kitchen table believers

Chiroptera

They are born with hand like
Wings of membrane clad digits
they spread to fly
Aviated, navigated
For nocturnal hunts
In perfect darkness
Where others feign

They cry a pulse
Echolocating
Mates or competition
Images of prey
And images of space
The night returns their sound

They are quick
Delicate wings
Stretch to out maneuver
Enemy or prey
But membrane tissue tears easily
Sensitive skin with receptors
Like fingertips
Small tears regrow... regenerate

I draw tiny circles
In the air
Tiny circles to support my world
To prevent it from crumbling
Under pressure

I write little letters
In my mind
Little letters to prove
To convince me of my sanity
To keep me sane

I talk to long gone images
Beautiful images
From the past
Now disappeared
I talk to them
Beg them to come back

like a vaccum chamber
the suffocating calm
cancer
reveals layers
of masqued chaos
covered in clean canvas
sheets
and under it
the cameleon creeps
survives
through the cracks
and creased papers
ex-communications
conclusions
with no closure
a circus
with nothing but clowns

I want to climb
I want to climb your structure
And enter your system
Like a network of tunnels
Via your defenseless retina
And infect your brain
Your consciousness
Your dreams
With words
I want to climb
Your senses
Synapses
Step by step
Defeat them
Derail them
Like a train
Of thoughts
I want to climb
Your visions of wonders
Your virtual vividness
Of wild passion
I want to climb that
With nothing
But words
In mind

If I look closely
at our electric lights
they, too, flicker
I sense the changing current
tonight

On that last day
Before everyone else
He came to her
In secret
And finished
What they had begun
Earlier
In silence

But those hands are cold
despite the glowing heat
from the proximal heart
next to them
and the comfort
of tangible happiness.
Extemities are irrelevant
until quakes
threaten the calm
and demand
immediate changes
and rescue response
Still, the body is quiet and warm...

Experienced bakers bake bread.

It has been rising
In the cold
For days
Leavened
By an ancient sour dough
Now it has come out
They have formed it
A tough process
Tedious work and foul smells
But they know
That the outcome will be
Worth it.

Inevitably
We collided
Like particles
Creating matter
Out of light
And miniscule black holes
In our conscience
Into which
We were pulled
And thus split
Once again
In darkness

The best of us
won't be
the last of us

Rain
Pouring
From ripped
Clouds in the sky
Darkened days of March
It rains
Not

Drip
drip
droplets

Of a sweet nourishing drizzle

Not
Sad lamenting rain
Like tears f
                    a
                       l
                         l
                           i
                            n
                             g
On an empty world

This rain is
Washing rinsing cleansing
Flooding                                        eroding                            destroying
Opening

lubricating           exploring                               flowing
                                                  Exploding

Torrent of lust

This is where we begin
Our world does not exist
Until we make it
Create it anew

And it begins with a thread
We connect pegs
And weave
Funnels,  networks
Interlocking destinies
In light fantastic

All is light
And yarn - no scissors?
Sketching
A model room
For existence

Peaceful lush garden
Man and woman innocence
Naively content

Woman unnoticed
Wanders the garden alone
Serpent slithers in

Provocative snake
Challenging teasing reptile
Promising insight

Words of seduction
Spider web weaving forked tongue
Beware of his fangs!

Magnificent tree
The centre of the garden
A fruit is missing

Sweet rush of sugar
Instant awareness of self
No more innocence

Man wakes from slumber
Woman is hiding the snake
But the serpent bites

Venomous passion
Serpent's words linger in dreams
Vibrant images

Woman blunders once
Secrets revealed in silence
Tears repress anger

Fruit offered as truce
Passion shared beyond the dawn
Fruit still forbidden

Man suddenly saw
A snake's tail around her thigh
Was passion a lie?

Slithering away
The serpent had done his task
He was satisfied

Spoken violence
Darkness swallowed the garden
Knowledge was hurtful

Garden gates closed
Knowledge cannot be erased
Cherubs remind them

Woman remembers
blissfully lucid words
And the taste of fruit

Infinite sadness
Knowledge demands reflection
She cannot go back

You see her there

Right in the middle
Between innocent youth
And tired old age
The redhead
The harlot

Open
Welcoming
Eternal

You see your fantasies
In her mysterious gaze
Your carnal longings
In the fire of her hair

Open
Alluring
Mature

You see her confidence
In her ***
Her experience
Her empowerment

Open
Provocative
Determined

You see what she'll do
To you
You see her
Touching
Lustfully luring you in



You see her
The redhead
The harlot
Your mistress
She is there
In the middle
Between youth
And old age
Always

I am her

I am here

I am eternal

There once was this place called the Corner
Attracting each poet and mourner
It would seem like the place
Where lyrics of grace
And beauty would make them feel warmer


But sadly the Corner would swarm
With predators seeking to warm
Their oversize egos
And feed their libidos
With chatting up girls as their form


As their poetic skills would deflate
They would rather on *** concentrate
So their primitive verse
Became far more perverse
When their  critics would start to debate

I want to sleep
forever
and dream
of things
I do not dare to
make real

...
and I want to write
those dreams
and capture
each fantasy
like frames
of a disturbed mind

I want to capture
your thoughts
and manipulate
your dreams
to make you write
forever
in my name

I
I want to sleep
forever
and dream
of things
I do not dare to
make real

II
I want to write
those dreams
and capture
each fantasy
like frames
of a disturbed mind

III
I want to capture
your thoughts
and manipulate
your dreams
to make you write
forever
in my name

A die rolls
And someone dies
It happens quickly
Before our eyes
We do not move
We do not feel
We only spin the giant wheel
And then we hope
To stay atop
Another round
With a bit of dope
Before we too
Will roll the die
Before we too
Shall roll up and die

That moment
When everything is language
Blanketing (me)
Capturing the present
Inside (me)
Inside layers
Of signs
Universal

That moment
When words transform
Minds (me)
Transform planes
Create (me)
Something fragile
Eternal

Page not found

I  don't exist
I have been deleted
All traces are gone

But you are real

And I am
Still bound
To your memory

I cannot delete
You

Like a modern piece
Of curious art
Like a commentary
A contrast
Or a twist
To the bronze statue
Behind her
She sits alone
On a sunny afternoon
Observing how
Orange makes people
Talk
Like her solitude
And porcelain legs
Attract stray glances
Mid conversation

All that orange
But the dress
A strapless black!
And she is writing
This moment
Capturing life
An orderly contrast
To sitting alone
Like a curious
modern piece of art
Beneath an old statue
On a sunny afternoon

from the way she studied his moves
how his hands moved
how his lips moved
the way he spoke
the way he wrote
from the way she studied his face
I could tell
from the way he moved his fingers
across the keyboard
across his face
through his hair
around his pen
from the way he moved his hands
I could tell
she loved him
she had watched him for a while
she felt she knew him
but he had no idea she existed
outside his screen

**** you!
For the nights I tried to sleep
But the thought of you kept me awake
For the moments I'd like to keep
Even though there's a lot at stake.

**** you!
For the days I spent in fear
Of the day you'd go somewhere new
For the music I endlessly hear
'cause I got the files from you.

**** you!
For the electric current in the air
Every time we would happen to meet
For the desire to smell your hair
Even though it wouldn't be descreet.

**** you!
For the pictures you plant in my head
Every time I hear your name
For the words that were never said
Though we both seemed to feel the same.

**** you!
For pretending to be real
Even though we are worlds apart
For offering me this deal
Although it was doomed from the start

**** you!
For always being there
Whenever I needed advice
For being the one to care
Making no other suffice

**** you!
For staying so ******* close
Nearly ****-blocking every girl
For handing me an overdose
Of your over-imaginative world

**** you!
For the feelings so forbidden
That could never be shown to the world
For the connection we had to keep hidden
Or else into hell we'd be hurled

**** you!
For saying you'd be my friend
When really it was a lie
For the rules that you tried to bend
And the words that could make pigs fly

**** you!
For incessantly writing
Those poems of longing and lust
For making them sound so inviting
As if in the dream we could trust

**** you!
For giving me master key
To your innermost secrets and thoughts
For creating such vivid fantasy
Without giving it second thoughts

**** you!
For forcing me thus to end
This wonderful journey of words
I ask you no longer to send
Your thoughts even when it hurts

First we build bridges
With Lego bricks
In primary colours
And we move on
To build bridges
From  words
With tought
In many languages
Because we have to
And we build bridges
In steel and concrete
Between islands and peninsulas
Between us and them
We prioritise bridges
With our money
On our money
To showcase magnificence
And to replace expired glories
And we cross bridges
In real life and cyberspace
To seek community
In alternate relations
Outside the confines
Of Hans Christian Andersen’s  quiet pond.

I danced with him
Then
A passionate tango
Upon literary waves
And he dipped me
Baptised me in crimson
Cascades of digital blood

We danced
For weeks
Barefoot
On perilous paths
Tearing feet and hearts
With our cheap glass broken
Promises

We drank words
In long daughts
Poisonous honeydew poetry
From my voluntarily
Ripped out heart
Until it broke
And the words spilt
Onto the ground
Where they mixed
With the tears of my love
And were thus diluted
And lost

Darkness feels different
something odd under the skin
sinister spreading

There's darkness
In the incandescence of the sun
Rising and setting
In two dimensions
Never reaching
But casting shadows from all

And there's death
In the leaves still hanging
On swaying branches
Happily dancing to tunes
Played by the Northern gale
But soon meant to fall

And there's silence
In the violent storm
Whipping and thrashing
The blooming gardens
And their window spectators
With the lights gone out
And nothing to say

And there's love
In the angry screams
And the frustrated pauses
Thickening the air
When we forget
That we are here
Together

I discovered it
On a Sunday morning
During my normal morning routines.
It was still small and insignificant then. Dark like a small cave,
an entrance into my skin
But too small
For anything to enter.

A week passed
In quiet oblivion
There didn't seem to be
Anything to talk about,
And I almost forgot it was there.

Then on Sunday,
The mirror caught it
Again
I had not tried to look
But the mirror made me,
And there it was

It had grown.
Still looked like a cave
Now fit for a snake
Or a small rodent
But it was not hollow
There was no cavity.

I felt like
I had to tell someone
Only
I didn't know how
So
I covered the hole
And tried to forget it.

Forgetting proved hard.
Every time I passed the mirror
It reminded me of
Our secret
And one night
My husband surprised us.
He suddenly stood there
In the doorway
Watching me
Explore the darkness
Which had spread
And now resembled
A dark country on my back.

We didn't talk about it,
But my husband made an appointment
For me to see a specialist
In dark patches.
He knew
I would just go and hide
Inside it
If he told me
To do it myself.

So I went
To see the specialist.
Feeling rather nervous,
I let her inspect
My dark side.
The dark patch
Was now so big
I was half black
Half white
And I would flip
Like a coin
Showing either side
At random.

She wanted to operate.
I should be split in halves
And the dark half
Should be put away
Somewhere safe.

I left the room
Feeling liberated
And inspired.
A thousand words suddenly swarmed
My unrestrained mind
And demanded venting.
So I bought a notebook
On my way home
And I started writing
As soon as I got a moment
To spare.

During my Sunday routine
I suddenly looked in the mirror
And it occurred to me
That on my right shoulder
There was a patch
Of white
The size of a small
Rodent's nesting hole.

did we sleep
and did we dream
the same line
did our dreams intertwine
in here
for a moment
did we sleep?