my soul is alone
and wants to be held
my heart's dispirit moan
beats one ray of hope
for true love is unknown

Myths and legends,
That’s what you’ll get in your dreams today.
Sleep on your broken glass floor,
scream! Scream!
Look at all the fake faces on the floor,
designed by your deep-tempted blood.

Slip onto the corner of 5th,
come lay on the grass from our divine god,
come drink the coffee of ethics,
let us peel your LSD skin,
***** the dishearten world,
look into our dispirit world,
do you belong? .

Go sleep with the drunks,
let them play with you,
lets relive all the hipster days,
when liquor was quicker,
gave us that heterogeneous slur in the chops.
We can smoke all the hale cigarettes
on this earth, but that’s just a myth.

Throw away the ashes

Pull the sutures out

Wipe away the dust from pictures

Start to scream and shout



One last look for this lifetime

One more final glance

Tomorrow’s coming and I’m leaving

I’m not coming back



I took the garbage out today

Nothing to report

Just faded dreams and rotting meat

Not difficult to sort



My heart was in that bag too

My brain falls from my hand

I think it will remain with you

Kick it if you can



It’s like a dream that’s gone away

A picture I can’t sketch

An idea lost in my head

Unsteady hand, lit match



Dry earth seeping noxious gas

Melancholy rays

Shining down from up above

Dispirit me today



The burning wood

Falls to the floor

As trimmers split the cracks

It all blows me away

When winter wind begins to howl around
and murmurs through my sad and lengthy days
I will sit down and try to write a  poem
and find my strength and solace in a phrase

When stand naked in the park are all the trees
and the plants in the garden stop to grow
I’ll write again another piece of poetry
and dream of cheeriness and love to flow

When sunrise seems scant, snow days aplenty
and dullness lingers long for months and end
I’ll write a verse to keep me company
and wish it be meaningful and well penned

The winter god will not dispirit me
when I send message with a poetry

1

I was inspired by a lovely queen,
Who granted my mind a beautiful scene.
I found this picture in the rose-garden,
This sight disturbed my gaze, without a pardon:
The grayish, flowing smoke is like a curtain,
Who might be behind it? It is uncertain.
It hides perhaps the face of a beauty,
With misty clouds of locks, swinging with glee.

There is a cigarette within the rose!
The gentle breezes carry its thick smoke.
Who put that cigarette who burns at there?
It's strange, but beauty makes it look so fair;
It's in balance to my adoring eyes;
Nature who is pure meets with smoky sighs.

But what about that rose, who is embraced
By smoke? Those leaves have sorrow's taste.
To reflect upon this, that is my task,
So with curiosity I ask:
Why so sad? Your dewy tears are like silver,
How can you be so sad? I am your lover.
Why so sad, dainty flower of the fresh spring?
You are the queen; the nightingale the king.
You are the lip who does talk to my muse!
You are the pink; the rosy 'gainst the blues.
You are the cup with the wine of my love,
Who goes around with the sign of my love.
Your hue appears upon the face of beauty –
Those glows upon your face – they are so rosy!
Some faces look like roses, who don't harden,
As a matter of fact, like fine rose-gardens.
With your brilliant glows they do compare
The beauties of mankind, who're kind and fair.
Your lovely imagery they did overuse
But oh, alas; I am in love with you,
So, it's hard for me to refrain 'bout roses,
That is what my poetic soul proposes.

2: Autumn and Winter

Now let´s turn our attention to the winter
And autumn, where icy breezes saunter.

O beautiful rose, you wait and you wait,
Till this garden becomes a sunny state.
Your stem does wait patiently, asleep,
The sun won't help that time; your slumber's deep.
The rosebud-lips do open up much slower,
Like each and every fresh and fragrant flower.

And that's the way of fleeting, pretty nature,
It can dispirit, it can enrapture.

3: On the Holy Prophet, peace be upon him

I know a Friend, very dear to my soul,
That Rose – without a crime my heart he stole.
With love, to him this piece I dedicate,
The pearly Rose who's in the purest state:
I wish I had rose-leaves to write upon,
To show, to proof to him; for him my love.
So that marks of my writing will release
The scent who lies within the fragrant rose.
While dancing in the air, I will blow it
Towards his direction, from me: a poet.
A poet who loves the rose and loves him,
And loves mankind and more within this dream.

With both arms, powerless and unguarded,
I shall wait,
hold close again the world detached to mine
and call it 'home.'

Now the risky part is to dispirit my pulse.
Oh, too late—
in an undertone it says,
"This isn't a kingdom.
This is martyrdom."

Dispirit,
Alone,
No port,
Only storm,
A wake…
In high open seas.

Compress
Is gone.
Hull
Is all torn.
Rudderless...
And... all worn.
A providence...
There's no providence
… towards home.

Scuttling;
What is left...
To this destiny?

hesitance to accept my ever growing crush for a certain soul matured into a welcoming pain.
oh god, did I love her. she was the sun, loved by all, whom warmed beings that were once accumulated with glacial hearts. her laugh thawed my dispirit, her presence shaded light to a once overcast sight. it was forbidden to pursue her, the world said. yet, I clung to each touch of her lips which illustrated romance all over my skin. my heart stops beating when she leaves and continues the rhythm of a soft hymn the moment her body is pressed against mine again. tonight, i am missing her like a chopped thumb, a missing petal to a white rose, a winter without snow. a fresh heartbreak is on the way, I'm aware your love is intangible. For ****'s sake, in the meantime, kiss my skin...