Between Stupidity and Determination

Say what you want,
let come what may,
I'm still reaching out for you!

I Never

Haha! Gotcha!!


I never told you to spend your nights restless, eyes open with thoughts woven
I never made you stop going your way and haste back towards yesterday
I never lure you into wringing open your heart, bringing down your guard
And now you're here, enjoy your beer!
(I know how much you despise it)

O,eyes, why can't you stop crying
O,heart, why can't you stop aching?

Silent Song

I wrote you an unfinished song, which I won't be able to sing.

Up is the Moon, Bright are the Stars!

Home Sweet Home

They say, home is where your heart is. I thought I had somewhere I could call home, where I always could take my refuge and feel save and protected, when the world is just way too malicious for me.

It's very funny, when you suddenly have to crush and let go of every dream and aspiration idea you have built from scratch. You have been building them carefully with each breath and step you had taken, that in the process you'd really come to believe that they could have come true. In a way, you even believed that they were your close reality.

So I heard, that home is where your heart is. I thought I have found a place where my heart resides. Somewhere I could always go to, whenever I am in distress; somewhere I would be overjoyed by the abundance of love; somewhere I would always know, that I always could wrap myself up with layers of layers of that warm and fuzzy unconditional love.

It's achingly hilarious, that you just need a weak blow of wind to destroy the castle of cards you have painstakingly built. You'd be very much angered by the destruction, eventhough you have already known deep down, that a palace made of cards is not a real palace, it has no foundation, it can not stay standing tall, it isn't strong. But despite all that knowledge, you would be terribly angry looking at your palace smashed down into just unworthy cards.

Home is where your heart is. Where could I find a haven, where I could place my heart safely without having to be afraid of that gush of wind, that could wreak havoc and force me to crush and let go of all my dreams?

Perhaps home is where my heart was; or will be

Please find me
and
stay with me

The lady of the North

Emerged in colors she goes out of the room.
Her long gown is flowing,
billowing,
blown by the dancing wind
filled with reds, blues, purples and yellows.
With every step she absorbs each hue.
One at a time.

Hear Me Out

I wish I were strong
to lift up this distress
I wish I were strong
to break free from this mess

Your hands are
crushing me

I won't have you in my dreams no more
I won't have you in my words no more
I won't have you in my thoughts no more
I won't have you anymore

The good witch is crying
tears burning their trails
on her red cheeks
"It hurts"
said she

The good witch is crying
over memories of enchanted past
of kisses, dances and promises

Tears are burning trails
on her red cheeks
"Make it stop!"
So she pleads

Forget your sorrow
Forget your pain

Kill your heart
stop the cart

Forgotten will your sorrow be
Forgotten will your pain be

No more pain, no more sorrow
The good witch too
is then no more

-Oz the Great and Powerful-

Feeling the large chunk of emptiness, weeping over the pain of nothingness, repenting for the self made stupidity, but hoping so hard still for that so much wanted salvation: I am what time has carved me into.

On the Wings of Hope

Have you ever been afraid of what the future holds?

The turning of the year was never such a big deal for me; just like birthdays, they are nothing but lines of insignificant numbers. To pinpoint a certain place in time and associate it with some meanings was never my cup of tea. Unlike the believers of Nostradamus nor the sympathizers of the Mayans, I have failed to spend my free time on wondering when the world will eventually come to an end.

But then I came to a halt. A couple of hours before time for the old year is running out, I ponder all the events of the last almost threehundredandsixtyfive days. Would the new pack of days again be an ill witted, uncompassionate entity, which would just continue to batter my withered soul like its predecessor? And then came the question into my head, if others are also afraid of what the future holds.

This fright is shattering my road, greying my skies, hiding my bright sun from sight.

Never have I taken my time to stop and call to mind bitter sweet moments of the past,
never have I taken my time to stop and feel the wounds and scars they have left me.

The pain was an obtrusive color in my palettes. It shook my balance, disarrayed my concentration.
The pain assembled a tremendously high tower of fear with no stairs and put me on top of it.

Anyway, while I'm up here, would You please strike me with your thunder of enlightenment, oh God?

This pain in my chest is nobody's fault but mine. I've known already, I've to pack up remnants of my heart and leave everything be. Instead, I am lying on these shards of glass, crying over droplets of blood running out of me.

Get out of here!
You aren't welcome anymore!
Take all the memories with you, for I don't have the need for them no more!
Get out and leave me be! You cast dark shadows in my light room;
you are not wanted anymore!
You painted my walls with my blood, bathed in my tears. So now the time has come for you to disappear. Then I will tidy up this mess and pretend that you were never here.

Even in my sleep I can't get my peace of mind no more. They started seeping right in through little holes you've made. Bigger are they becoming, feeding themselves from my fear, soreness, desperation. Heavier are they getting, weighing down, nailing my soul motionless on to the cold ground.

I have been jamming storms and thunders and chaos inside my bottom drawer, pushing them together in the dark pit to be forgotten. 'Tis time to rearrange and cram new ones inside.

I woke up to floods of tears. For a moment I was lost and couldn't comprehend the streaming of the salt water out of my eyes. In my sleep I've forgotten everything: the aches, the troubles, the doubts, the desperations. I asked myself, "Is it already time for me to wake up?", for everytime I open my eyes I see them again; fully armed, ready to charge.

"Your happy is too loud", said she. "Your happy is too loud, I can't hear my sad. My eyes are flooded with salt water and my heart feels heavy and cloudy, so I think I'm supposed to be sad. But your happy is too loud, it confuses me. Let me rest my head and listen to my sad, so I would know why it's here and what it wants from me. And then perhaps later we could let our happies be loud together."

-After "We Bought a Zoo"-

Back to Black

Just when I thought I have harbored my boat
safely
A wild storm blew and ripped it
from the shelter away

No matter how I screamed
and plead the gods
they just didn't want
to leave me be

I held on tightly to my boat
until
my fingers bled and
my bones cracked

The storm still came violently
hysterically
rampaging every flower I planted
carefully

And now that it has stopped
I can't find my boat
I just find myself alone
in this devastation

Morning Revelation

For him,
who touches the deepest of my soul and soothes the little creature that is hunched crouching in the corner.
For him,
who walks with me and holds my hands constantly even in my darkest hours.
For him,
who kisses my tears away and tickles out smiles and laughter from my stiff mouth.
For him,
who is brave enough to fight the distance and stubborn enough to love me against all odds.
For him,
I reshape my overwhelming warm emotions into these words; that
To him,
I give all my heart.

Oh, Lord!
help me rinse my blackened heart with your wisdom
help me wash away my stained thoughts with your affection

Oh, Lord!
please give me back my strength to chase away my unwanted desire
render me the miracle to heal my crippled conscience

Oh, Lord!
pour that cold rain over me
Drown my sinned soul in your cleansing water

shake me
make me tremble before you
crumble me
Oh, Lord!

Mea Culpa

Every bit of my body and soul
is crying out for help.
I am
afraid, that
I am
not strong enough to fight
myself.
Because
I am
Selfish,
I am
Wicked, and
I
Pretend not to be all that, what
I really am

Please forgive me for I have sinned.

Let everything be

I need you to need me,
Want you to want me,
I long for your longings,
Crave for your cravings

If it's too heavy a burden,
Too much to bear,
Then just let go,
Leave everything behind

Don't bother
To say
Good bye

The Water

And there was the pale moon
over the dark water
And there was the cold, still night,
rioted by our blazing hunger

Every kiss
I breathed in
every caress
I submerged in

the silver water
danced
to the red
of our melting fire

our shadows entwined,
summoning ripples,
shooting the face
of the breaking dawn

Let's go to the hill, where little jubilant colored flowers dance happily with lush green blades of grasses in the music of the enchanting wind. Let's find there the spot, where we can lay ourselves down and count all the bee- and bird- and butterfly-like passing clouds in the light blue sky. Let's search for the most handsome tree and see if we can climb to the top. Let's pretend that we were together doing all the above until it was time to go home again.

You, dear,
are my beacon in the dark,
when my stars grow tired of glowing,
and my moon goes
together on a rendezvous with my sun,
deprive me of their lights.

This is It

Released are my rivers of tears
Suddenly I find myself standing in this
incoming
engulfing flood
and I haven't yet learned to swim

So I bid you farewell, love
Closing my lights of day
I will flow together
with the raging water
from the barrier you broke

And if I were gone today,
would you be able to find me again tomorrow?

"How are you?" It's a simple question with not such a simple answer.

Today I asked people how they were doing. Some of them couldn't give me any answer. So instead, they just said, "I don't know!"

"How can you not know how yourself is doing? You don't have to be a rocket scientist to be able to answer such a short and simple question!" And so I thought...


A couple of hours ago I was lost in my day dreaming and emotional turbulence (as on any other day). Some people I know saw me and asked how I was doing. I was caught off guard and couldn't answer the question. I smiled, thought for a while, mumbled something incoherent, tried to hide my confusion by smiling again. But that was it. And at last I answered that simple question with the same, "eerrr..., I don't know!"


And then alone, I tried to solve life's newest mystery, which this simple "how are you"-question introduced. I looked at myself in the mirror and asked, "how are you?" My image smiled but I also saw a big blotch of denial on my cheeks, just where the big smile dwelled. I asked again, "Really, dear... Tell me truthfully, how are you?"


"Fine!" The woman in the mirror answered convincingly. But I, the person who knows the woman in the mirror and her cunning very well, I saw this woman sent away a little doubt into the never ending coridors behind her tangled mind.


I realized then, that trying to answer the question while looking in the mirror won't give me any result. So I meditated. Ultimate question asked. Then I waited. one, two, three minutes passed. Rrrrrrriiiiiing!!!!! My cell rang its annoying old telephone ringtone. I picked up the phone. Someone cheerfully said,"Hello, Novy! It's me! How are you?"


"I don't know", I answered.
But at least I was fast this time.

every single time
there are just the same
tears
waitings
disappointments

every single time
there are just the same
misunderstandings
angers
neglects

But love
keeps on giving me
illusions
of hope

And I am his fool
for believing
every single word,
every single time

Which is Which?

It is as if I just woke up from a very long dream.
Here in the now I find myself. Here in the reality I look over my shoulder
and see fuzzy borderline.

My dream felt so real; My reality puzzles me.

It is as if I just woke up from a very long dream.

or is it

I have just fallen asleep and started dreaming my reality and the dream I thought I was having was actually my actual reality---

My Odyssey

Tell me where happiness lies
So I can set my sails to the direction
Tell me what happiness is
So I would know if I found it
My home

Seasons' Greetings

Each time I watch the lady changes her gown
I can't help myself but stand dumbfounded;
sucked into her quicksand of beauty.

In my Solitude

I shut my blinds and sit in the wailing darkness
No one knows
I lie unmoved on the icy floor until my skin turns purple
No one knows
I kill my overruling heart with a blunt knife
No one knows

I drop dead
No one cares

Weird Show

I'm the blue man with three hands, I'm the bearded woman with giant nose, I'm the crazy midget with wild red hair.
People are rushing to see me inside my cage, despite the high fare, despite the long distance.
I am never alone. I am surrounded with crowds. They stare, laugh, throw, spit at me...
They surround me with their crowded laughter, drown me in their thick black stares.
The newest weird show in the circus has come to town!

It is You

And I said I love you

I say I love you

I'll say I love you,

while

Cherishing every droplet of your loneliness-quenching-affection

It doesn't matter how hard I try, I would never be pretty in his eyes. Why is it so damn important to me, you ask? I don't have the answer. Perhaps I just want to be adored by someone who loves me. But it is too much to ask, I guess. You could never force someone to see what they can not see, to think what they can not even imagine. I know I should just be happy with my being average. But hey, at least I'm not ugly!

I have never been good in forgetting aches. Especially if scars remain. My walls are decorated with pain. I don't know who put them all in exhibit like that, but they are there, all staring at me at the same time with their vicious eyes. Each of them has its own mind. And they just don't want to leave me in peace.

My world is filled with images and words of you
Gushing into the void of your absence

Clouds from steel
rain water from keel
racing into earth's throat
suffocating

blood from shreds
tears from dreads
running out of my pores
clogging

my home
my shell

Tell Me How to Whisper Your Name

Tell me how to whisper your name properly,
because still I can't invoke you from my cold dark hole

Tell me how to whisper your name correctly,
because still I can't resurrect you from my vague dreams

Tell me how to whisper your name decently,
because still I am sitting in my loneliness alone

When all candle lights have faded away,
and nothing can sheathe me from fear,
I will cling on to the memories you gave me,
and recite each syllable of your called entity carefully,
Until you appear once more in front of me

Let's Cry!

Perhaps our tears can wash away the red of the shedded blood. Perhaps our tears can blow away the bad odor of the summoned death. And perhaps, if we cry hard enough, our tears can clean up the jug of hopes and aspirations, which is blackened by all the occuring violence. Let us cry together in unison!

My meadow is withering. But the rain I hoped for isn't coming. Despite the constant dance I have been performing. Despite the endless chants I have been singing. And a cloud came by just to say, that the rain isn't going to come.

My meadow is withering

People I miss are carving their images inside me painstakingly. And painfully I am enduring the movements of their carving nails digging into my flesh.

Ein halber Abschied

Es ist schwierig, mir vorzustellen, dass wir von unserer verfaulten Stelle weitergehen sollten. Es ist mir klar, dass wir nicht in der Vergangenheit zurückbleiben sollten. Meine Füße haben mich auch schon weiter von diesem Punkt gebracht. Aber ein Stück meines Herzens bleibt doch vergessen in diesem Ort, wo es für immer kalt bleibt.

Obwohl die logische Realitaet ihre Szenen vor meinen Augen malt, möchte ich trotzdem das Ganze doch nicht glauben. Naiv und egoistisch wie ich bin, ich möchte immer noch, dass du nur an mich denkst: dass dein Leuchtturm nur meine Gestalt anleuchtet.

Then Tomorrow

And I will be leaving you
My trails you will inherit
Along with reminiscences' quilt
And I will be leaving you
When my ship has come to shore
With baggage full of lore
Further I will soar
And I will be leaving you
If not today
Then tomorrow

I see images of myself. I see images of my-ought-to-be-self. Somehow it is hard to see those faces smiling. Sometimes it saddens me to see sublime hopes wander around in those eyes. There are my arms hugging my hopes tightly. There are my hands tugging my elevated contemplations hardly.
Those are shadows from the past. I know now what had occurred in the coming past, and can't help thinking to myself: "I have to shake myself off of these bubbly scales."

Perhaps the time has come for me to stop; for that state I was looking for is no more to be found.

I want to strip myself out of these cloaks
of fear, guilt, shame, weary
I want to stand stark naked
without any burden those coverings
are pinning me with no show of mercy

I want to get naked
with just my core outside
without feeling the chill
of the blazing wind

I want to present myself
with no fear, guilt, shame, weary
I want to stand tall stark naked on my ground
with no feelings the apple of paradise gave

proudly
proudly
proudly

"What my words can not utter
My hands will show"

And so he wrapped his arms around me,
smoothing out my tangled weariness
until the morning breeze floated
the orange moon away

Revelation

Just a knife cut away
On the other side of the window
There lies the world
in which I will see you again

I retrieve all memories I have
from the time we were not apart;
Oiling them as to hinder them
from rusting and fading away

Bathing my eyes with the golden dust
I see your depicted world
Mounted on top of the aurora
shimmering over mine

Just a knife cut away
and I will see you again
In the world on the other side of the window
Which will be opened no more

-Ode to Lyra and Will-

Emotions are colliding together and creating huge explosions of rainbowed colors. Their shreds are shooting accross the city, gouging through every solid material, flooding even the most crammed places, where even the dead doesn't have enough space to rest in peace.

Emotions are colliding together and creating new chaos in the smashed world: chain reactions without end in my heart.

A locket full of beloveds on my neck
A casket full of happiness in my pocket
A bottle full of hope on my waist
A book full of fairy tale love stories in my hands

I am ready to step out and face the world

My Missing List

I Wish Heaven Had a Phone

On the horizon she sat
putting down her grieve
on the weeping grass
she said

I wish heaven had a phone
so I could hear her voice once again
I think about her in silence
and often speak her name
All I have is memories
and a picture in a frame

But girl,
A mother would never leave your side

Her blood runs in your veins
Her emotions and thoughts
are the person you are now
Her energy is the life you are living

If you look deeply inside your heart
you will see her
If you listen closely to your heart
you will hear her
And someday in the afterlife
You will meet her again

Girl, a mother would never leave your side

My mind stumps, my soul numbs, my heart wilts. My eyes water, my stomach rebels, my lips pout. My grin hides, my laughter strike, my smile dulls.

I sit and stand and walk and run and lay and crouch.
I sing and cry and shout and whisper and snort.

Still

My mind stumps, my soul numbs, my heart wilts. My eyes water, my stomach rebels, my lips pout. My grin hides, my laughter strike, my smile dulls.

As time passes, my world crushes.

Schmerzen kommen und gehen, wie sie wollen. Oft weilen sie auch länger und fühlen sich bei mir wie zu Hause.

Because I was impulsive I have fallen in love with you and driven you away. Because I was impulsive I have fallen hard to the ground and was scattered to pieces. Because I was impulsive I have run right back at you the day you smiled at me
and thus made me vulnerable again. Because I was impulsive I have smiled back at you the brightest smile and thus blinded the sun.

Because I am impulsive I am writing this to you

Stupid

You would never say the word to me,
just as I would never say to you:
"maybe"
"I don't know"
to every question you'd ask about us

You would never let me hear that word from you,
just as I would never let you wait to have my love,
just as I would never let you stand in uncertainty,
just as I would never let you ache missing me

So in the time being I will chant the word
in a song

My Missing List

I miss your eyes: their smile
I miss your lips: their kiss
I miss your hands: their touch

I miss our walks
I miss our talks
I miss our laughs

I miss you

Just leave it to me to wrong what is right and leave it to him to ruin the chaos

Pleases

It was like walking with one foot,
where every step was a painful struggle.
Balance was something I had long forgotten,
for days were filled with stumbles and falls.

Exhausted, terrified, weary;
I tried moving forward lonesome,
ignoring the soreness and the pain,
hoping that
someday I would just get used to everything.

But you came along, my friend.
I did not take a look over my shoulder.
You were just there catching up.
Without me even crying out for any help.

You lend me your legs for me to walk upright.
You give me your voice for me to laugh out loud.
You offer me your warmth for me to stop trembling.
You endow me your presence for me to feel accompanied.

Heal me
Protect me
Stay with me

"You're everything that I've become, you're every word I say."

It doesn't matter how much I try, the images keep on popping inside my head, the liquid from the bubbles are rushing down through my throat and lungs into my heart. Flooding it with the sharp blades of sweet recollections.

"I need a bell, a book and candle to keep your ghost away." Eddy Reader.

I saw Demeter in my garden
Nodding, she was saying to me to be very patient.
For the seeds will soon be seen
as flowers dancing under the sun

Lately I have been trying to wring out smiles and laughter in my desolation. It is tiring to wear the mask the whole time, but put it aside I dare not. For I am afraid to get drowned in my own tears.

The pain doesn't hurt.
It's just there lingering and swaying
along to the shrill music of the glass sherds.

The pain doesn't hurt.
But I know it's there,
because I've often made acquaintance with it.

Wednesday, March 24th, 2010

Today was

decisions
trains
faces
glass sherds
blotched yellow sun
skinned trees
vanilla ice cream
benches
cold warmth
missing touches
waves
talking stranger
walks
loneliness in the crowd

You and I

Your tears are thorns in my heart
Your doubts are black clouds in my sky
Your disappointments are stones in my chest
Your fears are fogs in my forest
Your angers are fires in my head

Therefore be happy please,
because your joy plucks away thorns,
your security casts away black clouds,
your contentment throws away stones,
your safety clears up fogs,
your peace puts down fires.

Therefore be happy please,
for all of those known reasons,
because your happiness brings joy to my life

Es ist nur ein großes Loch in meinem Universum,
mir geht's blendend!

Wie weit wirst du gehen?

Du liebst mich
nicht
genug,
um deine Hand für mich ins Feuer zu legen

Du liebst mich
nicht
genug,
um deine Seele für mich zu verkaufen

Du liebst mich
nicht
genug,
um zusammen mit mir in die Vergessenheit zu gehen

Nein,
du liebst mich nicht genug,
um bei mir zu bleiben.

The Book Thief

I just finished reading the English version of "The Book Thief". A truly remarkable book that touched and stirred the core of my heart with its wit, sorrow, love and strange cases of luck. As the pages ran out, the tears were rolling down my cheeks uncontrollably: it was the simple story of the book thief; told immaculately by death; that wrung out sacks of salty water in my eyes. Her juggled words lulled me inside the farthest corner of my bed sheet and at the same time slammed me down on to the coldest hardest cement floor of her basement, where her foster parents stole and kept a Jew away from the Fuehrer.

I've known that words can bruise, hurt and even kill you. I've seen people bled; cut to pieces by words. But words can also fly you high up to heavens and make you forget your pains and let smile conquer your face again. Like the words from a loving mother to her crying child. One thing that I didn't know; what the stolen Jew called Max Vandenburg told me; was that one can also plant words and later harvest them on people. The Fueher and every other great leaders had known this and with the power of words they tried to conquer the world of humans, who actually invented and intended to use the very words for their own sake. The book thief tried once to kill the words just to find out that she was going to gather them again into her own.

Those wriggling dreaded harvesting years in Nazi Germany were her line of colors. She'd seen her brother coughed for the last time with one eye dreaming. She'd imagined her mother waiting for the train out of Munich to oblivion. She'd come to a new family with a mother whose face was made of lined cardboard but whose kind heart was huge and had millions of towering shelves; enough place for everyone; and a father who was actually an accordion with silver eyes and warm hands. She'd stolen foods and books from a woman who always left her windows open for her private thief; a woman whose soul was eerie and broken down because it had lost a huge lump somewhere in Stalingrad. She'd made a beautiful friendship with a feathery Jew in front of the fireplace. One thing she'd missed was to give someone a kiss while his lips were still warm and soft with life; something she would never be able to do anymore because she couldn't had bargained with time for another chance at the freezing water as the candle lit haired boy saved her newly stolen book.

She outlived everything. She was a survivor. And she was one of the many, who made it harder for death to cope with his reality of life. "I am haunted by humans", said Death at the very end of the page.

That was the book thief's simple story, that touched and stirred my heart with its each single word.

-For the love of books she stole them-

Good Night Wishes

Sleep tight, love!
Let the night blankets you so you wouldn't shiver.
Let your most wondrous dreams lend you new wings,
so you wouldn't stay on ground bleeding out your hopes and expectations.

Sleep tight, love!
The night always succumbs to the new daylight,
as the golden sun will always takes turn in reigning the realm of the silver moon.
A new day will always be born after the passing away of yesterday.
With it are also born new hopes.

Sleep tight, love!
And shove your tiresome burdens outside the door.
As tomorrow will come,
a new beginning is destined to descend after every end.
Rest your head and sleep tight, my love. . . .

Waiting for Godot

I have no idea why I am still awake
as the night dance away.
I have no idea why I am feeling the necessity
to feel hurt when being treated second best.
I have no idea why love always has the first place
in my simple life.

The world is a heap of complexities which perplexes me.

The last one

The spare heart I still had in my wooden chest is out. Without knowing how and when I am already using it and depending my life on its every beat. I guess I wasn´t really ready to wither and fade away.

A delirious delight is what I am feeling at the moment. I don´t know for how long I can use this new heart, that was captivated in a dark box. And the last time I checked, I only had this last one I am now using.

I thought the earth were my mother. I thought she would never had conjured up the seven headed dragon to devour me. But my mother was not the Gaia I thought she was. Underneath she was the Medea I long feared.

My eerie soul is lingering on the quiet desert, searching for some kind of an oasis, where I can find some spells to lead my savior to come to me and bring me back to life.

After New Moon

To love,

I can feel now that I am human. I can see my breathing in the air. I can feel my bones crackling under my skin. I can hear my muscles wrigling together; in my fragile being. I don't mind if I have to feel your pains because you also offer me life. And you, love, you make me realize that I am mortal.

Time passes by without you beside me. Every single tick of the clock is the sharp blade that is wounding me. My blood is the sadness that is pouring out, draining me. And I just sit here on my window, looking into the emptiness of your traces as the seasons change.

Please come back to me, or let me run to you.

Yours always.

Reality Check

I've never seen myself as a nice person. I smudge and crack any mirror I look in. So why can someone from my far away past tell me that I was the opposite of blackness? Has she met another me? Or is she just telling me her self-made-me-memory?

Her words take me gliding on flowery hills for a second. But then I see my image smudging a standing mirror again.

Baby Blues

Look
up there in the indigo sky
hold up
your hands
because one of those
thousand storks
has what your heart
has been yearning for
Look
up there in the sky
it's raining babies
in every hue
One
is coming into your arms
an indigo baby
falls from the indigo sky

Mother, cover him
with your rainbow love!

The Smith of Night

No I can't close my eyes still. All my senses are quenching their thirst of far away land and never ending romance. My veins absorb every melody of every song I hear tonight; weaving my dreams out of those melodies. But I lost my only coin as I lean over the fountain to look inside and try to find out my luck. So now I continue my journey to the far away land where stories of romance will never end; without knowing whether I will eventually be there.

Treacherous Rain

They say the rain can ease the wrath of the hot sun, can heave the heavy burden of the black clouds. The say the pouring water from the sky can bring life to earth, can make the seeds succumb to the temptation of growing out of their shells and face up the outside world jubilantly filled with new born hope.

I have always loved that falling water. I have always eagerly sipped the scents of the wet earth, inhaled the tastes of the humid air and blended them together into my own dancing cup of tea. But lo, now that I am all soaking wet. I am shaking inside out hating the chirping of the laughing birds. I didn't recognise this feeling; never acquainted this rage. What has gotten into me? Am I not the child of Gaia anymore? Has she abandonned me? Or have I drifted too far away from her comforting bossom, have too much of the poisonous but decievingly inviting ambrosia?

The sky is light blue once again. The black from the clouds has turned into white once more. I lay flat on the ground. Beside me is a young plant singing its thankful chants to the sky. I just look straight up to the atmosphere

Faces

Am I being ungrateful?
Staring at those faces on TV. I just feel like I want to absorb every detail, hoping they would somehow occur to me. Why is fate keeping me unattended? It's like I have to spend my life writhing and wriggling my phantasies just to abstract some kind of blotched self carved home made reality. I guess I just have to keep on watching the damn TV, because on the back of my head I know that fate is giving me the finger.
But does that make me ungrateful for wanting an alternate pink wallpaper for my wall?

To Nowhere

Wishful thinking is something I can do exceptionally good because it's the thread that ties my tears from falling and my fear from rampaging. Wishful thinking is the contemplation of what my soul calls divine. With this chariot I am going away gradually.

A Welcome Song

I reached down inside my husk of heart triying to feel that little bits of colorful stones. They crept in without me expecting of their advance, like a growing rose bush in summer; with thorns just to protect me from the vicious world. Slowly but constantly they grow into me blooming their soothing, hilarious, colorful scented blossoms. The knowledge of having them inside grants me the good feeling of hope: Of hope that my core would somehow someday no longer a weary husk.

I welcome you inside my little motley stones.... help me splash my little world with brighter hues.

Words can not portray the thousands corridors of my feelings. I told myself not to go back to the place anymore, but my feet rebell against my warnings. My mind drifts alone to the spots of recent past and wishful future without me noticing; leaving my body lying soulless on the ground. And when I am there to the full and entire extent, I am always greedily devouring every detail I can catch; celebrating every step, breath, heartbeat. I can not resist to play. Everytime it pleasantly abstracts me from my immediate reality.

I have trespassed the sphere of the goddess of the hunt and enjoyed the accompany of her deer. She is coming to hunt me down and expel me out of her land.

-

I have lived for today. I saved so many diamonds and pearls just for this very day. I have dreamt of today. I fastened my fairy tales with my most fanciful stitches. I have lived for this withered day and I ended it laughing at my murdered expectations.

Look at her swaying her hands towards the sky. Drooling looking at the first prize over the clouds stomping her feet like an undernourished horse I once saw on the street. Is she a disgrace to our kind? Or are we all capable of being that way in exasperation? But mother, she disgusts me.

Princess, why are you still weeping beside the pond? You won't get your golden ball back, if you don't go for it yourself. Never should you ponder to let a green slimy frog to help you. It doesn't really matter if it is actually an enchanted prince from a far away land. A frog is still going to be a frog and it is better for you to be able to stand on your own feet for the first time. Shake the trees and let your dress rip and your blood trickle out of your cuts. Trust me, Princess. In the end you will be a strong queen.

February Goodbyes

Floating over the ensheathed city I am looking for a little island to rest my wings. I was looking for the little tree, that once hugged my worries away. I was searching for the spring breeze, which had thrust my rocking boat gently through the storm. Their traces have faded before I could recount all of our reminiscences.
This blinded city of the south is deserted.

I am missing you.

My little hugging tree, gentle spring breeze, elfish sensible muse, purifying crystal water, pampering looking glass, smooth seashell, warming quartz sand.

hurting

As always, it's starting to hurt and there is nothing I can do to stop it. Dreams are not reality but I tend to tread on my dreams and hang on to the soft mist of the fantasy. Even when it is starting to hurt and I am forced to bruise myself because of the daily fall into the harsh concrete of reality; I am still coming back to that place. Over and over again.

At the Borderline

Like a chocolate fountain, melting caramel on a hot plate and a river of honey. Sweetness bursts into me without any halt; pulling the sides of my cheeks upwards.

I wonder if it is right to betray yourself and enjoy the exciting ride and perhaps take another daring one?

happy valentine

"So much for dreaming the man of my dreams!" She said that repeatedly with watery eyes. I looked at her hollow face. People told me how beautiful she was, how her light could brought morning dews glisten like droplets of the most exotic jewels. Now I can not even seem to trace the residue of her bedazzling characters; as if she had forsaken them somewhere amidst her rigorous sorrow."Perhaps it would've been better, if I hadn't found him." And she closed her door.

The Explorer

I am back to where I used to be. I should have known, I can not go too far. My rope is not long enough.
Perhaps, if I ask nicely for a longer one....

Salma

The muse chattered in my dim lit room last night
Her glowing long gown was a colorful shade of white
She chattered her songs with her silky voice
I looked in awe as she smiled at me
saying, "Be kind to yourself, dear."

In my dim lit room she danced around
sprinkling her golden dust into every corner
Her laughter chimed indistinctly inside my ears
Glowing colorful shade of white and gold dust filled every vacant hole

The muse chattered as I listened in awe
"Be kind to yourself, dear.
For I will not always be near."
In my dim lit room I heard her silky voice

Salma

Hail to the guardian of the tower of the south,
I invoke thee!
Come and take over this dried field of mine!
Resurrect thy power from within the soil I stand upon
for here I am bended and broken down
bleeding out my residue of love, passion, affection!

Hail to the guardian of the tower of the south,
I invoke thee!
For my fortress is no longer strong holding
the downpour of the molten red lava from my eyes.
This worn out heart can't save herself anymore,
soar right away into me!
Redeem me once again!
Reborn me!

worries

I'm back to where I used to be and am even going on further into this dark pit. I know what kind of torment is waiting for me there. But I am going on further still. I put my self at stake again just to find out, that it will never ever going to get better between us. Perhaps it is better for some time, but I know for sure, that I will have to rip my guts out all over again....just to create a distraction for myself and thus ease the heartache. I know I have to install my shield again and go away as far as the wind can take me, or that time will come.

my wreckage ship; one

It’s naturally not easy to find yourself down in the dumps. Especially if you know that there is not a big chance for you to crawl back up to where you used to stand. People say, if you want to make a change of your situation, you should just stand up and do it. They say it’s the problem of your mind. However, sometimes I find it more comfortable to stay here in my dumps after you just got punched a few times in your face. People are keep on crying out: “Go ahead and save your soul!” But they just don’t know and don’t care. What if I don’t want to be saved anymore? I am just tired of being accused of things I am not responsible of, or being told to do things I really don’t want to do, or to get stapled with packages of disappointments. So I would just sit here in my dumps and enjoy the process of my fading out. No one would ever notice, anyway.

"you might call him dull, but he smiled whenever he saw me and we could have built a life on it." an excerpt from the movie "Miss Pettigrew Lives For a Day".

A Schizophrenic State

Can someone tell me where my fairies go? I was so busy coping with life it didn't dawn on me instantly. The clamors of the city dimmed the tiny voices of my fairies. It was like being struck by a colossal lightning: I was finally aware of their absence. Where did they go? I used to have them with me all the time. They used to talk to me, encourage me, comfort me, accompany me. But now there is not a single trace of them and strangely, I can only vaguely recollect their faces. I swear they were there all the time. I could swear that.. Perhaps...

Where do my fairies go?

Trapped

Life can really get on your nerves sometimes. And when it does, you just want to bury your head deep in the sand, so that you won't have to get acquainted with all the ugly winged wearies from the pandora box. Just when you think all is going on well, you realize you're standing on a quicksand because you were too overwhelmed by your success. without compromise are you sinking into the sand. You just wanted to bury your head, but now you get the whole bonus treatment. All those success can't give you a hand and help you out. You end up alone being depressed and thinking how it's all gone wrong, collecting milestones of memories you piled on the corner trying to figure out why it went wrong. Perhaps you should let it all go. No more fights. Just let everything go and accept your situation whilst wondering why that stupid woman opened the forbidden chest on the first place.

A Plea

Spin your viscous web around me, so I can't see the outside world anymore. I want to stay inside your cage, just to make sure that I won't hurt myself anymore. I prefer to be blind than seeing how they wipe my memories away. I prefer to be deaf than hearing how they loathe my ways. I am one lonely dot amidst triangles; and no triangle likes a dot. So please take me in your asylum; spin your viscous web around me.

How Old is He Now?