let's pretend
we are not yet born
inside zebras
moons
layers
I just love the fragmented world
in your eyes
give me your pride
I'll clean the streets with it
I wonder who would notice
we are going to be born
from the womb of morning
with jasmine in our fingerprints
the world stares back
through glass eyes
ego psychology everywhere
like a plague
like a roller coaster
my butterfly heart
is moving the air
towards silence
I need to tell the difference
between you and you
but my eyes are full
of blue feathers
look, things have drowned
their names
dividing the depths
of living
I slowly phagocytate you
like a wave without direction
just before my eyes -
this rush, excitement, fear, quietness
this you-quality
suddenly turns into I-quality
as the belly of that
second empties itself
into no-more-than-life

What is the description of love
You know that funny feeling you get
That takes where you are and flutters your heart
As butterflies race through your chest

Is it in the face of a child
Or when your holding hands
Is love something spoken out loud
Or whispered on the wind

Is love something you get
Or is it something you give
And after it is you give it away
Can you get love back again

Does it come in a selection
Of different sizes and shapes
And if you happen to mix it
What are the colors love makes

What is the description of love
Is it to lay down your life
In the service of your fellow man
Or the ultimate sacrifice

Is love just a four letter word
That you might have once heard
Or is it the best of all cures
For the long broken heart

Is it in the beginning
As well as in the end
Is love the golden thread
That helps all things to mend

Is love something you say
Or is love something you show
I guess the description of love
Is all this and much more

i wonder if i ever

let go this pen

and no longer gave

the words their say

would that freedom

reshape the man i am

would i rue the day

that poetry

doesn't have a hold of me

the very thought

makes me afraid

it would be like

letting go the hand

of my closest friend

that always gets her way

yet there seems to be

comfort in this cancer

pleasure in its pain

am i truly looking

for an answer

would i listen anyway

to the contemplate

of the letting go

of this pen

i tightly grip a hold

my friend my lover

i at times loath

is something

i may never know

I am ashamed that I am Spanish because of Franco
I am ashamed that I am French because of Algeria
I am ashamed that I am Algerian because of France
I am ashamed that I am American because of Bush, Iraq
and the bloodshed once among brothers
I am ashamed that I am Russian because of Stalin, Gulag
and recently of this and that
I am ashamed that I am German because of ******, clearly
(Pol *** appears more and more seldom in the lists, but one is horrified, humanly ashamed, remembering)
I am ashamed that I am English because of football etc
I am ashamed that I am Polish — only when I am not proud
I am ashamed that I am Turkish, but then there are Kurds...
I am ashamed that I am Czech and allowed myself to be stifled

(I am just as ashamed myself — some say, who feel
shame in its extremity and hide weapons in pantries, waiting for that moment
in which they wash away their shame with the blood of traditional enemies)
I am ashamed that I am Orthodox or Catholic and I wedge and split
the mountain on which Jesus bled — before others made even smaller
pieces out of his Golgotha below
I am ashamed that I am Indian because... well, it’s no matter
I am ashamed that being Macedonian I let the Greeks be even more
I am ashamed that I am Korean and one of Kim Ir Sen’s
I am ashamed that I am Korean no matter where, as long as
Kim Ir Sen’s Koreans remain
I am ashamed that I am Serbian, but... let me think
I am ashamed that I am Chinese because: ‘You’re Chinese?’
I am ashamed that I am Romanian because of Ceausescu, Dracula of course

and now, God, all these Romanians all over the world...
I am ashamed of my nation even when I am not ashamed
— but each of us seeks to forget something
I am ashamed because .......... [Everyone: fill in the blanks, write yours here!]

but you, but you — you, only you
you, whose nation filled the desolate earth with life and kindness
you are the man who begins the new day
today
with your first step

*Ioana Ieronim

A cigarette after ***
  gets old
when it's the only thing
  burning
in your world.

When Netflix feels like
  family,
you wonder where
  everyone went.

******* feels like
  a cry for help--
So help you God.

Missing your home
  is second
to missing who
  you once were.

Eastern philosophy,
Karl Marx, Rawls--
We don't know
  any ******* thing,
really.

Pretending to be more.
Pretending to be smarter
than we really are.

May holes in our sides
let others see
that we're beating, too--
just not as ferociously
or as honestly.

May we vanish
into the darkness
that best suits us.

If the light is our night,
may we follow it.
Follow it...
Follow it...
Rebel from our frame.

May God grant us
to be more
than losers.