for now I don't want to know where I just came from
nor how long it's been
I don't want to picture the blisters nor the bleeding
nor smell the fumes
I don't want to remember the flood nor how the leak
was sprung
I don't want to hear about who perished and who survived
nor think about who might still be threading water
for now
the dead will have to bury the dead
the sick will have to tend the sick
the broken will have to help mend the broken
and themselves
as we do, as we must do
for now
I don't want to know about who fired the first shot
nor whether or not I'm going to drown in this life raft
for now
the foghorn, the light house, the shore
the lapping of water beneath me
for now
the foghorn
the light house
the shore
the lapping
the shore
the light house
the foghorn
the lapping
the water

karma is a thing of irony
its wheel can
turn
in the other directions
hour of
burn

be
not
a
fool
be
aware
of
the
change
shown
by
the
spool

the run of the mill team
sought a popularity
tag
and on gaining it were
able to cockily
brag

they'd disposed of
the crowd pleasing
Wolf and Rabbi
this did bring them
a greater share
of the pie

karma will
alter its lot
in the due passage of time
tick tock
              tick tock
                            tick tock
a date marked
with its
paradoxical chime

From the departure of all worries
Refreshing beams from a source
In a new way with a bloom
Every passing moment is with this
No more troubles and no more pain
Destined for this path only to gain
Sailing through the winds on this thread
Hiking through the perils of this world
It's a relationship with your friends
Passage and shelter, from all trends

Why am I scared of passing time
Time passes, always, it can feel like a crime
A crime to take away fun memories
A crime to bury past mistakes
A crime to cease everything sensory
A crime to slam my foot on the brakes

It aches me to say, I don't know what I did today
Or yesterday, or the day before that one too
Because to have done something means you apply significance
Spoon fed your day a meaning like you do to food
But you can't always make a difference
You can't always change a day

It's a new day, it's a new year,
It's a new time to create new fears
While ignorance recedes, pain grows
Pain knowing that you can't expose
yourself to new ideas so easily anymore
Because this past year you've known
Known how hard it is to start something new

You tell yourself,
What are you waiting for?
And you reply,
I'm not waiting for anything!
So you jump into the first few feet of water
That's when you realize
You don't have anyone to help you get farther
into the ocean of new opportunities
And when you try to meet others, to say "hi"
You get nothing but cold water
So instead of trying again,
Trying so hard to make friends,
You simply step out of the ocean,
And into the land of wasted chances.

But, you're out of the water now.
So, why are you drowning?

bury her
the imposter
posing as you
bury the actors
posing as your friends
bury the rules
that left you for dead
unscrew the hooks
put them in the ground too
and what the hell
bury the hatchet

you choose them
own that
now disown them
disown them all
they were never yours
anyway
they served you once
now you're done
go ahead
bury the dead

pile in the dirt
shovel by blessed shovel
pack it tight
dance on their grave
howl, spit, laugh, cry
go on
bury them

from now on
celebrate what remains
that's your ticket
take flowers
take a limo
whatever
but take yourself back
just do it
go on
bury her

the ****** grieves ******
for the feeling of total abandonment
before discovering how not
to abandon herself
the alcoholic  grieves Burbon
for the bitter sweet
for how it made him feel
before the hangover
the gout,  sclerosis
the love ****** grieves the innocence
the dream, fairy tales, the endorphins
before enough was never enough
the *** addict grieves for another
and another
before the clap, syphilis, despair
before too little became too much
the gambler grieves the green
the shiny stuff at the slot machine
before the house was gone
woman gone, reason gone
smug gone
the crone grieves for youthful ignorance
awe, suspense, naivety, anticipation
before the burn, betrayal, fact
wisdom
the dying grieve for life
energy, breath, the past
before the unknown, surrender
the letting go
the letting go
that's how it goes

a lull in the rain,
from distance that hum again;
a narrow passage!

There's a certain kind
That holds you hostage
Way up there in the bleachers
In a red-light district
Cold and cheap
It lures you because you're lurable
Attach and you're stuck up there
In a certain kind
Of dilapidated ivory tower

It's only later on
When you're broken
When the nights have woven
Their history and the light
Has drained
Only when you're pushed out
Only when you're shoved off
Only then does the truth
Begin to talk

Until then it's been silent
Though gradually loosing appetite
For despair, denial, dilemma
Only when unhooked
Does that fierce, quite dismissal
Begin to beg for something else
Only then does
A certain other kind
Begin to go wild for itself

You wonder how yourself
Moldy and molting
And mad with lies
Had so deceived its own
You wonder how
If there is a god
S'he coulda watched you bleed
With self-betrayal
And sat there idle
While you slowly crumbled

But admit it
You were terribly cocky up there
In the pink and belly-full
***** and hookered
If G O D woulda spoken
You woulda spit in the face of divinity
And you probably did

So that certain kind
Watched and waiting
For another
Certain kind
To choke the bejasus outa ya
'til you slowly faded to full stop
And dropped to your knees
To a certain other kind

Do not be disturbed
If I lack the ability
To sugar-coat
The beautifully human
The tragically human
Or
If I refuse to try rewrite
The book of life

Do not be disturbed
By us
Mad mischief-makers
Us
Multi colored misfits
Who wander the market place
All dressed up
With nowhere to go
But here

Do not be disturbed
By us frenetically tainted
Us
Silly sprouted beings
Who speed the highways
On a wild goose chase
To wherever


Dearest do not be disturbed
If I regurgitate
Some heavenly-scented hairball
From some holy rap sheet
From some wasted wobbling wino
Do not be disturbed
If I smell a rat and show my teeth

Do not be disturbed
By the impending days ahead
When some grizzly goon
Some long-clawed nimbat
Some long-forgotten ghost
Coughs  up and spits in your face

Of course be disturbed if you must
But the days are short and the hour is nigh
The time for braggards and barbies
Monsters and missionaries
For mystery and myth
Will soon quietly pass away
And you wont be able
To hear a pin drop
Dearest
Do not be disturbed.

There was a time when I wanted to fly. There was a time when I wanted to feel as alive as possible. Now I'm just scared. Afraid, of how things can go wrong in one second. One moment you are someone and the other moment someone else. There's no story here. No words or figures. Just me. Just me and you. I don't know why you're here. I don't want to know. But I know you know what I'm talking about. You know the pain. We all do. If you don't, just pretend you're lucky. Because you're not.

Pain is universal for us. We can't possibly imagine a world without pain. We pretend it is something evil and cursed. Something rotten and broken. But it's not. It's the only truth other than death. That's the only thing that will still hold your hand when you're waiting for death to come. It is your most trustworthy friend. The only true friend that let's you be.

Death takes you away. Happiness makes you forget who you really are. But pain. Oh, the pain. How many countless artists and art has been made because of pain ?. Almost all of it. Because pain teaches you about a world that is far and isolated from everything. Where you can be truly you. At your best and worst.

But I don't like pain. It's just not for me. I don't thrive in pain. I give myself up. Some people create when they're in pain. I destroy. You can make art both ways. You just can't choose which one belongs for you. And it's killing the world.

The problem in the world is that we're all afraid. We're all afraid to love and be ourselves. We can blame it on everything else but honestly it's our fault. It's inside us and we weren't taught to respect it, we weren't taught to separate pain from love. For us it's the opposite faces of the same coin. Pain is not absence of love, Nor is love presence of happiness. It's born inside everyone differently. It's like our DNA, different for everybody.





We're not taught about freedom anymore. But rules and laws. We're not taught about how we can be ourselves but how we can be someone else. It's a race and we're all losing. We're all losing because there's no finish line. We're all just running because the first guy began to run and then the next followed him. Now anyone who doesn't run will find himself lonely. There's nobody left standing still. Everybody is busy in running to no where. The world feels small now. The universe feels explored. There are more answers to questions now, but we're still clueless.




There is more love to be had now more than ever. There are so many of us now.

But where is love ?. Where is this magical thing. Where does it hide ?.

When I was little I searched for it in people. When I grew up I searched for it in my heart. And today, with a broken heart I know where it is.

Far and unreachable but somewhere beautiful and warm.


There's no pain as the pain from a broken heart. It swallows every inch of your body, your soul, along with every positive energy in the world. It swallows time itself.

The worst part is, even if you could go back and change things... you wouldn't.

That's not love. That's the pain.

That's the pain telling you that you not only need something but something that was a part of you is missing.

The pain is what keeps the love alive and in a way keeps the world alive.

And We'll be nothing without love.

Not with our skyscrapers and latest technology, addictions and trends.

Have you ever met a man who lost on love ? Who saw his love slowly walk away leaving him alone in the universe.

Do you think he still enjoys good food or music ?

Do you think those things matter anymore ?

Love is magical. Magic does not exist. It only appears in a moment briefly only to disappear.

Leaving you scratching your head because you have no clue what hit you.

Getting hit by a train is better, some would say. It's not even anywhere close in my opinion.

And when you're in that pain. You realise there's no difference between love and pain.

But the difference you make.

It's as much more important to heal the world today than live within ourselves in pain.

It's as much more important to stop running for a moment and see around ourselves. See if somebody needs to be picked up.

And love is the only thing strong enough to make us stop.

But you now what ?.

Pain is the only thing that will make you stay.