Is it right to have suicidal thoughts?
And having feelings of being lost.
Stuck in my head reading the same passage.
From a note I wrote in the past .
When things were hazy, but still the love last.
Now beaten and torn . I feel like giving up.
I feel like going to that place ,
Where everyone says my past can be erased.
Sadly even when I do , it won't be like that.
I've done wrong in my time .I deserve some torture.
But it's all the same here Apon this Earth . It's all torture . Live everyday with stress and anguish. I'll die without receiving my first wish. Is it right to have suicidal thoughts like this?

I was not born into a world of Hate
I was born into a world,
that has taught me such-so.
For the world is naturally cruel
In a way
But on its own - teaches us things
Immeasurably profound that kindness alone
Is unable or unwilling to say.

But neither was I born into a world of Love
but rather the choice of it or lack thereof
for the world could be fought, lost or won
On a page, with a pen;
With our arms or our walls, closed or open:

Really  a  wall  
is  needed  for   migrants !


Is  the  great  wall  of
China  will  come

to  be placed  on

U.S.,  Mexico  border  area.



Is  the  German  wall
would  be  replaced  in
U.S.  and  Mexico's  border
to  be   a  killer  wall.


  Really  wall  is

                     very  well  for
migrants  to  show    rights
and their  livelihood    rights

I am a grey wall
stained and full of cracks
but you've hung a frame
with a memory of us
over each crack
and you've spilled words of love
over each stain

standing at the fire wall
open I stand again and again
while my eyes are open while the soul
my sings while by myself i can i sing
while the gold pipe is waiting for me there

and where the lights in the restaurant are lit
and where the sea and love and kisses
everywhere and around and there where the bricks
not only stand but where they are still
and accomplish the greatest and daring flight

standing at the brick wall
I stand open and I live in thoughts
and think and think and contemplate everything
I think and I think when my watch will show
that's five already it's time to run

28.12.18

I stared in front of me, at a peculiar object that had no formality.
It was a bland wall, had no opening, nor space, just blank.
It was oddly amusing, trying to foresee beyond it, trying to see what could be the meaning behind it.
The wall had no writing, or drawings, no patterns, or carvings.
Staring blindly, I couldn't see.
"Change your perception, use a different sense"
The voice said.
Pressing my hands against it, resting my forehead on it, and closing my eyes.

I felt it

I heard the banging, the screaming, the blood spattering, the squealing, the gasping, the echos, the sounds crying out for help.
I heard the knife slashing and gun shooting, I heard it all.
I suddenly felt something jolt through my body, like an electric shock.
I landed hard, back first on the ground.
Losing consciousness...

I saw it

I saw everything. EVERYTHING.

Waking up in a blanked out terror, I finally understood it.
It was me, in the form of my subconscious.
A metaphor of the desperate plead, cries, and help I call out to those that I love.
But, silent echos cannot whisper in the dark, and my voice cannot be heard.
SO, I suffer more, all by myself.

Yes, You can see the wall, but, if you choose not to listen to it, you won't see what's behind it, on the other side.
You choose to be misunderstanding.
You choose to be ignorant, and brain washed by lies.
But, if you actually took your own time and tried to feel the wall without any fear, maybe, just maybe, you would truly understand.

So, I stare at this bland wall, has no opening, no space.
But when I heard and saw what was on the other side, my perception changed.

The secret of love,
Of remaining together...
Is not what everyone supposes.
It is not always the bringing of gifts,
The candlelight dinners
Or bouquets of roses.
After the bloom is off
these loving flowers,
Irritations and troubles arise.
There are clashes
Over little things.
And lovers forget
The vows they made so easily,
Violating them with anger.
Old resentments from the past
Rise up to poison with enmity,
The nearness that will not last.
Those with wisdom shun these fights,
The sad agony of lonely nights,
Lying awake and wondering
If love still exists, or if one matters,
To the other, if one cares at all.
Over time, self-protection grows,
And the lover builds a rancorous wall
Where weeds choke sunlight from the rose
And the other cannot hurt you.
But the play still goes on,
Like a song that still repeats,
Over and over unnoticed.
And a pantomime of caring
Begins to form, with hollow smiles
And half-hearted promises.
The Rose now lists against the wall,
Pale and tamed, like a common plant,
A vegetable in a kitchen garden.
And lovers expect passion
From a dreary fruit like this?
But once in a thousand times,
Deep roots that began long ago,
Giving rise to the first flower of love,
Last beyond boredom, thirst and drought.
Thorns pierce their hearts through the wall,
Bringing tears of surprise and recall.
The lovers find after the rain:
They have what they have sought.
And that which they sought is all.

Summer 2018