eyes the size of marbles
glistening like no other
her hair was the perfect colour
she was beautiful like summer

yet her name
that i cannot remember

I don't want to see no other eyes
I don't want to hear no other laughs
I just want you to be mine
I just want to say my goodbyes.

No other green eyes will shine
No other laughs will make me cry
Baby, can i see your smile
Just one last time?

I just want you to know that
Your blue hair will be my sky,
Your red lips will be my wine
And your voice...

That was the demise.
My love, may you shine forever bright.

here i am
writing once again
a story so full of passion and greed that i scream myself to sleep

there was a boy
who loved a girl
but she was dead and so was he

they both lived under a dying tree
the girl wished to be free
and the boy couldn't see


she always helped him
to stand up from his knees
in the summers he would always sneeze

and the girl would be there to clean
one day the blind boy asked the girl
how does she feel

tears in her eyes she said
please master, can i leave?
i am no captive, like a bird, i want to be free

the boy said through his teeth
i agree
so he unlocked the shackles on her feet

grabbed her by the hair
and suffocated her to sleep
now, she was truly free

but the boy
ravaged by his pain could not sleep
so he starved himself and died next to her rotting feet

when judgment came
he asked if he could once again
see his beautiful Annabel Lee

but god declined
and he was once again blind
living under a dying tree

and searching
for his next
Annabel Lee.

dead bodies lay around me

the stench of rotting flesh

the mud beneath my feet paralyzes me
swords swing back and forth

mother, i am now a casualty
forever encased in mud,
coloured with tragedy.

it was a stormy december night
the wind was howling
and god was singing with all his might,

the horses were shook
when they heard
a demon singing a flute

in the tales of the old
t'was a bad omen
but for us, we were lost in the moment

we didn't care for the demons looks
nor how he burned our books
all we knew - it was bottles work

in the mountains up high
we died that day
but the flute still remains

charming every man
with its play
be careful fellow man, its the devil's play.

what is life?
do poets matter?
are we all a black mass
inside an endless spiral
what are words?
does writing matter?
we want to be free
but the government has us
what is a canvas?
do painters matter?
they color our lives
with the darkest patches
what are hands?
do gloves matter?
if they cannot touch
a delicate body
what are eyes?
if only green matters
we cannot look at
one another
because my eyes are full of lies
what is death?
do funerals matter?
we all die
its just a matter of the burial site
what are pyramids?
does history matter?
why do great men die
poisoned by their sin
what is god?
if evil still roams free,
if a father crucified
his son
for his own sins
what is religion?
if it divides us
and only woman
reunite us
what is alcohol?
if wine is all-knowing
it stimulates the brain
the way sweet words
stimulate fame
what is sin?
if we are all born in it

i envy those
who lead a miserable
life
for they know the struggle
of woman and wine,
today i die.
with this poem  
i leave the misery behind.
watch me be reborn,
as a bottle of cheap
red wine.

your perfect black dress
casts a shadow upon my damaged mind
come, see the dead
come inside my mind
with your perfect black dress

we will dance and we will feast
in the halls of Paree
amongst the peddles of bones
we will create
a passion ever so grey,

for me, you are a poem that breathes
in your perfect black dress
made of silk,
but when my desire dims
into the grave, you will
sink.

I have walked amongst the lowest of the dead,
I've kissed Judas on Easter morning,
I carved Sisyphus rock and sat at the top of Olympus,
I have danced with the Valkyries at Valhalla's gates
And yet I can not change my fate.

Banished from life,
Wandering through the deserts of Moses,
I was condemned.
No soul shall pass my eyes,
No love shall be given to me in the silent night.

Banished and condemned,
Dancing in circles,
Forever in the Devils realm.

our souls at night
become wonders of the sky
swimming in an endless sea
of despair and madness
only to return
to a body so helpless

wake up in a morning so vile
only to drink more wine
red, white its all the same to a broken
mind
taste the damage inflicted by the divine
for we are here, lost in an endless sky.

shattered.
im a pile of broken glass.

was once sugar though, sweet.

i don't know what is freedom
all i've known is war
dust, bullets and screams.

save me from this terror
build me a bridge
thousand miles long
so i can pass
to the green forests
because that's where i belong.

singing songs
with the birds
i will no longer feel lost.

I am groping for meaning.

you are the best i never had

and i had my share

i have tasted luxurious women
and luxurious wines

driven fanciest cars
and travelled the world three times around

but i never had you,
my dearest grain of coffee

in all my travels
and all my women

i never had something like you

i never had those quirky jokes
those harry potter references

and those hands

oh those hands are the curse of it all
the way they touched mines

the way they grazed their story
alongside mines

without you, my cup isn't full
my coffee is tasteless

and my poems

are faceless.

my blood, same as my heart run
shallow
robbed of life
that is you...

you are now transparent
like an old painting
you've lost your colour
but our story still fascinating

we were like a dance
a slow Decembers valse
long ghostly dress, black shoes
you were the night's muse
and i was your young moon

that night we were the sky
our slow steps echoing
through the halls of the dead
Versailles was once again theirs
but You were never mine.

Anastasia, my dearest Anastasia
may you dance in the halls
of the winter palace
may you sing a song
that brings the life
to these chandeliers

My dearest Romanov,
may you live forever,
forever dancing in December.

****** and ***** around me
an out of tune guitar
and a **** soaked floor

eyes bloodshot red
a single tear running down my cheek
waiter, please bring another gin on the rocks

im ******* myself now
too drunk to pass out
i throw up, thinking my wife hates me now

i fall down on the floor
break my nose and jaw
smear my face with *****,  i look beautiful  now

the waitress picks me up
i reek of **** and ****
give me a kiss, on your red wine lips

i finally leave,
find a lonely tree,
say goodnight to the blue sky, the gin puts me to sleep.

wine
*****
beer
whiskey

don't love while drunk
cause the pain
is amplified by a thousand suns

it burns from inside
it kills reason
it destroys logic
it breaks down all your walls
the east and the west are free
the soldiers are marching in
and your alcohol-soaked heart
is about to be annexed by war.

black death gave me a kiss
with warm and sweet lips
upon my chubby cheek

and now we dance
and feast
with the poets ages lost

here i sit with William
as he pours me a cup,
Charles smiles, as i shout: bottoms up!

t'was the plague that
ended me
and a kiss that finished me

now i will go to sleep
i am full of food and drink
and i found my room inside a palace, in Paree.

red wine
whisky
***** and beer

these are the commandments of paradise
an eden, lost forever from time

only way to gain entrance
is through poetry and
demise.

throw my body in the ground
rotting
with no sound
pour it
make the earth drown
I will be its ship
and alcohol will be the sail
that guides the souls to be ******.

a road of a thousand flowers
blooms every year
the sound of spring
and birds chirping
make the grass grow taller than giants.

i do not know
i never will
all i can do
is drown in sorrow and sink.

fragile we are
like violets in spring.

tell me, mother,
how much my life is worth?
is it a bullet or two?

my soul can't take the horrors of war,
but my hands are merry
they killed a man.

I no longer feel
what is fear and what is love
this skin only knows steel.

tell me, mother,
how much my life is worth?
is it a bullet or two?

creatures of the night
come hither
gather your desires and meet me by the river
i will tell you a story of a man who dwells beneath the theatre

scary he is
dressed in rags and scars and
with hair darker than my own twisted thoughts

some say he was once a playwright
ever so great
to even make shakespeare cry in shame

but hard times befell on thee
and a mortal sin he did commit
slit his brother's throat

and asked his father
for a dead bride to be

when his wish was ******
to the theatre, he did flee
and now during every play

he's looking for a bride to be
beware, my children,
for he is lurking beneath your feet

i need more wine
more wine to understand my love
for you

its deeper than my thoughts,
its deeper than the ocean itself,
my love is endless

i will love you when you are with him
i will love you when you marry him
i will love you regardless

but now i must drink,
i must find the words i seek
because you are more than the poems i speak.

your smile is a paradise
not lost like john milton
but found
by me and my hearts wisdom

it is indeed beautiful
words cannot express
minds cannot comprehend
yet the heart connects

although it is young in age
its been molded by pain and rage
the poor heart
it will never know love nor fame

but when it is in its darkest shade
the poor heart will remember your delicate face

I drown my sorrows inside of a pint
I do not know how to swim
I see no lifevests around
The ship, it sinks
And I'm inside it.

The pint makes me feel safe.

i used to dance once
with a girl of blue hair
and green eyes

i used to dance once
valse of the winter and summer

but now i drink
drink of the winter and summer

I have seen things you people wouldn't believe,
Towers of Alexandria ablaze in a raging fire.

I've watched the Gardens of Babylon
descend into nothing, like dust.


I witnessed monsters and martyrs,
rise and fall in their path for power.

i am the cause of your pain
yet i bring you happiness
i am the reason for war
yet i made empires

you can not see me
but even in the longest distance
you can feel me

i am the gallery of your happiest moments
and yet im the one who writes your tragic stories

i am the author of life
but only a chosen few can really understand my books.

in the lonely nights
i sit and dream
of delights and sins so sweet
i drink my coffee
and count the stars
until its time to sleep.

Where will I go?
Who will I be?

I do not know,
But I am here
I am now

And I will forever be.

inside a silver ship of Andilar
there lived a girl
of beauty so immense
it made Amphitrite weep till no ends.

every cursed night she would appear
embellished in a golden dress.

though I could not speak
cause Poseidon had cut my lips
but every night on the silver ship
when the stars shined on my heroine's cheek
desolation of my words would not exist.

eventually, you will die
and all will be forgotten.

though your children will remember you
your grandkids will remember your name
but along the lines, you will be forgotten.

nothing, my dear, is immortal
the age of heroes is no more
for what we are now
that is all we will be.

bow before no man
for no one is holy
there are no rules
because the glory of humans is dying slowly

i am free
from the shackles on my feet
only now i am beginning to see
that the song of the poor has been written on my skin

because there are no gods or kings
only man,
and those that cannot see
the song that's written on me.

here comes the hangman,
he hangs.
he can not be cheated
he can not be defeated
he can not be treated
he hangs.

you may swing for your crimes
you may swing for your lies
you may swing for your life

it's all the same to the hangman
for all he does -
he hangs.

you were the gallery of my memories
your lips were the paintings on the walls
your hair was the ceiling between our stars
your legs were the very walls
your soul was the light that shined
through dark corridors
and your essence was the key of it all.

in times long forgotten
there lived a girl
not yet of age
but she was driven by rage

though she could not feel pain
and her heart was a hollow place
she always knew
that life will someday drift away

the girl wanted to be known
she wished her name to be engraved
in history's stone
so she stole the tools and her made name known

not by good deeds
but by blood winter cold
a whole village feel to their toes
including her ma and pa whom she never known

after the slaughter
a tear ran down her cheek
for she finally understood what it means
to feel

her rage was finally at ease
but her hollow heart begged her to leave
so she cut it out and
buried it in the village by the sea

after some time she drowned in her sleep
for the tears they didn't stop
and she became a girl who weeps
forever doomed to roam by the sea

searching for her heart
somewhere lost in the deep.

the stench still clots my senses
the piles of bodies
and the rivers of screams

the now lonely shoes
and forgotten glasses

the beds that now are empty
yesterday bore lifeless bodies

the chimneys, that spat out death
are no longer hungry for flesh

these memories must not be forgotten
for they are sins of ours
that no god will forgive.

he closes his eyes
he can't see
his mind is clogged with anger

anger towards the rich
the wealthy

for he has not eaten in three days
and they
they do not see the crowds of pigeons beneath them

I have tasted freedom
I have flown like a bird
I've seen the rain
I heard the thunder
I've touched the lighting
I've danced in the quakes of the earth

I am no longer sick
I've seen life.

her eyes were like time
every moment they became more important.

tell her,
i did no wrong.
yes i am the accused,
but aren't we all?

i am only human,
not god
i apologize for my wrongs,
though im not sure i will stop.

so please,
tell the judge i love my wife
because of tomorrow
my sorrows will be gone.

my clothes are ripped
my skin is hard
my hair is greasy
and my eyes are ever seeing

i gaze upon the street
the concrete
and the sound of feet

i see figures
of money and cloth
they do not know what it means to rot
for they have always thought in nought

my skin is ripped
my heart is hard
my hair is greasy
and my eyes are now foreseeing

in the fields
row on row
where the iron grows
was a rose

it bloomed with
every new moon
and when the money occurred
it got stomped down
with the dirt.

corpses of saints tickle my eyes
I see plague
I see demise
what is this place?
it is not divine.

it's cursed
I feel it in my spine
my bones start to twist
I am no longer His.

this empire will fall,
it will fumble and it will crawl,
and then
only the dead will stand tall, above all.

what happens when the garden dries out?
of course, all the flowers die.
the petals cover the ground like skin covers it during the war.

They say keep on going,
keep trying,
but what they fail to realise
we've been going,
we've been trying,
all in naught,
just for somebody to say:
keep going, friend.

started writing poems
cause i failed as a painter

started drinking
cause i was once held a failure

but now i dine,
in the finest halls of Versailles.