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Out of the hell of this world we all have to find heaven
and the steps to go through are said to be one to seven.
This world then is a stepping stone to that which is higher above
and the essential requisite for the journey is ever increasing love.
© 2021 George Krokos
From "The Quatrains" ongoing writings since the early '90's.
Svetoslav 17h
When the moon starts to glow, we go to sleep.
As the sun begins to shine, we rise from slumber.
It is the cycle of life; one cannot cope without the other.

There are animals and plants in a forest that decrease in numbers, everything else is becoming objects and lumber.
Animals breathe what our nature exudes.
Plants feed from the rain and the sun.
All that lives is in balance and holiness
that defies imbalance and loneliness.

Some people don't think of what our nature eludes.
They are sticking to lack of emotions for a personal gain.
Their playing with guns goes on and on.
Fun ain't emotionless and it's no and no.

The very balance in our world depends on ourselves
for we should unite as one to withstand tyranny,
thus, the beast in his lair will cease to feast.
Infamies and felonies will turn to clarity and purity.

Come one, come two, it's up to you
and it is not something new we have to do.
Come three, come free.
It is destiny, can't you see?
Come four and come more.
Unite by the destiny's door.
Ode to the people protecting forests and wildlife
As long as people love power
more then they do people
As long as people love money more then they do people
World peace will be far away!

Shell ✨🐚
We must love each other more!!
At the end money and power won’t help you!!
This renaissance mind
has rejected
my being...
I can no longer
the world that
I am seeing,
take shape
of late-
are we fated
to hate?
This race war
it's an
but not a joke
How long will these enigma of misfortune can be carried out by
my hands—laid and lewd
shining with mud and uncertainty.

How long will the stones be put into pressure
to become the diamonds in the city—where known is familiar
and the unknown is discreet and mystical.

My head throbs with excruciating pain—it can be called as emptiness, a glass without water,
whom the sound shrieks like death is coming.

Into broken pieces of the diamond city—I have felt the pressure, the innate madness of forsaking the world and the world knowing my limits and the little shadow that keeps me company beneath my bed.

How long, oh, how long will these enigma of misfortune be laid out in my grumpy hands—in between secrets and opportunities.

How long, to be an artist?
Another crisis, another piece.
budding thoughts of newer days
on post-its everywhere
each behold a simple life
that should be made to bear

tiny futures made of ink
that whistle under hands
wait until they’re asked to speak
as more the world demands

if every human from the earth
fulfilled their ecstasy
then nothing would be hungered for
and none would cease to be

we’ll search the journals and the notes
if we can do a thing
for those who can’t or those who won’t
to live under a wing

to wish is but to live or die
and you’ve been last to know
the nights are cold and days are dry
so write them as you grow
inspired by “Post-It Dreams”
an article by Dr Tressie M Cottom
bizarre 6d
our world as it is ... created in colors
the life as it should ... making them change
and wind as it seems ... brining an honor (to)
the time which we plead ... to slow down the pace.
| Light Poetry |
Long ago before the world was round
before it grew blue and sprung green
there was no song
no music
and words were flat
with sharp edges
and holes with nothing to fill them.

That was until the hummingbird hummed and the songthrush found its voice
and the humans,
who prospered by copying the best ideas,
lied and mimicked
and parroted
until something like song
smoothed the edges
and filled the holes
until the world was full
and it's edges round
and music began
Loving a movie called This Beautiful Fantastic.   I pinched the first line from Bella.
Where will you hide if the iron hands of raging gorillas get stuck
in grabs and you break out of this time forever
because there will be no one next to you?!
What kind of Soul pulsation, lost drum can drift anyway?
Which of your face shadows is soaking in the water of haunting nights?
Are you constantly terrified that the danger is
complimenting you in your uncertain world?!
"There's no ringing in the firewall of hell for the eternal losers!"
Your body orbits in a dream bay like a mutilated planetary continent,
and when the spikes of insidious thorn bushes pinch, even the Angels laugh!
You know, a calculated moment of loss can surround you at any moment
and devour your wounded Soul!
You should look for your Underground Sun
radiating within you even more boldly!
The unreal in the Present amazes you!
Ever since I feared the Cassandras-Report;
you can't hide anywhere with your merciful gaze!
Phantom pain throbs on the cochlea of my throat
and in the headwinds, Fate!
"The cheap little world becomes a *******!"
In Adam's costume, I would honestly stand before
the Beloved: Would you accept?!
The molecular gates of besieged Eden should not be
taken possession of as a colony of cheap wars!
Your dreams are spurred daily to return to
the ruthless reality with caracan!
We mirror by blurred in black and white!
Your bamboo hand worships knives when
you bite into the Universe!
You know: in the face of the very Hyenas Age,
the "no more" instinct is in check!
- Your faithful items will be waiting for you when everyone else has left.
Norbert Tasev Feb 26
Perhaps the always Faithful Mirror has already become a Traitor;
the structure of movements and
faces does not show only the essence struck by the stamp!
We cross the stage and bravely defy danger on board decaying boards!
Secrets are still hidden in the degree of surprise minutes
and waiting for suitable eruptions!
It is the deserving shadow of happiness that is happening in us!
- The smile-tear clown bathes his face in a silent moon mirror!
"Indifferent and idiot-producing phlegmatism greets you!"
The disgust of our selfish concealment can easily settle on others;
to the smell of our prey overwhelmed by success-seeking breakers;
how long does the silly age of hungarians go on?!
Prophets would already flee Nineveh
because their bribed mission had become angry!
******* Angels like killing knives,
spoiled knife-spoons and broken refractions!
Everyone is laying their cages more and more,
because Happiness always takes another
hard-to-heal wounds; indelible stigma!
Fence, ****-In time, the final maze path
can also be easily solved:
Start s End in front of the same gate
often that's why we stumble!
Wells that are overzealous on our bitter,
unhappy faces are hanging True Pearls!
"We should have deliberately escaped this sensational,
continuous squirrel wheel world!"
A broken World is behind us!
As a hesitant lamb, anyone among the hordes can tear apart;
we walk the field of our existence as orphaned wanderers;
in our throats the redeeming Death throbs…
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