Category Archives: Pașii spre fericire

Innocence

Posted on by

Give me back my innocence,
help me to forget the deeds, memories and broken wings
and all the years I’ve wasted running from the real things,
give me back my childhood years with all the mysteries it had,
and the dreamless sleep at night in the summer of my life
put it back to where it were long before the night had fallen,
long before the God was gone,
give me back the youth I’ve much despised
with all the boring afternoons, far from civilization…

Give me back to my old self without the teachings of the men,
without the dead, the sins, betrayal and the crushing pain,
take me back to days when fantasies were in the books you’ve read
and rebellion was thought to be running to the hills with others,
long into the past that’s gone before the dog was caught and slayed –
give me mercy for the present and a chance to build a future
without fire, without murder and the horrors I have witnessed,
give me back the cold cathedral and the kneeling to repent…

Give me back my heart untouched with all the love and caring,
give me back to when I still had a chance of happiness
and the infinite stargazing and the nights that never end
and the twisted years of magic with the thrills of the unknown,
higher power of the essence guide once more my shaking steps
to the day before today other than my yesterday…

Ghost-town

Posted on by

ltbzGxGsT3unjI3CdGyw_header_01

I am wondering in the darkest of nights
where my steps seek the ground before their way down,
there is no soul in the streets and cardboard boxes block all exits,
it is so dark the voice can not pass and I may as well close both my eyes…

The smell of skin I feel it’s unfamiliar, fogy and synthetic,
a hand grabs my leg and I stumble to find my path,
it hurts from the skin and goes to the bones
it’s a song but all I can tell apart are people who scream,
and in the absence of the sun the world doesn’t cool down
so I melt into the cement and finally found a way out…

Where is the white horse that brought me here?
I can see the saddle on a pile of skulls,
might as well take a Harley to next town,
soldier of fortune going through hell and fire
does this make me feel or is it still a nightmare?

Journal

Posted on by

lost-in-time-joan-gossett

Do I live in the world or does the world resides inside me,
flickers of joy,
questions and figments of times I have lived are passing me by,
memories of reading a book on the shore,
the drugs that I had in the dark,
the face that could light up any spark,
one, two, the past is visiting me
let it forever be,
my eyes still seek the end and the eternity
for what I have seen I can not forget,
don’t pour sugar on my dreams
don’t put salt on my wings,
I am an Icarus that fell somehow
that sow its wings and took the long way to the sun;

Bless me father for I have sinned,
in my shadow I shall find the resolution
can you see beyond?
can you smell the speed of sound with your hands frozen,
love is in the heart of Eve
and I am here where I am not,
no ring shall fall as there is no hand
slow the pace,
I long for days to clear the yesterday
far and far away…

Of love, limbo and other l-words…

Posted on by

limbo-sign

Once upon a time,
in Piazza del Limbo, in a city with a name pretty hard to spell,
stood for the good and stood for the bad,
with a stick in one hand and asking for water,
it was a man with the feet in the dirt and the heart on fire

run, run, run
and love, love, love
you’ll find everything a young boy desires
both for the angels and for the devils
gold for the poor, enlightenment for the few
rise from the dust and reach for the stars
can you tell the difference in the hard of the night?
can you see the light if you’re born without eyes?

Sitting on a stone which in rain and in cold he called home
where St. Peter used to climb and pray for the people,
he embraced his shadow and he starts to write
words forged in darkness with the truth he could harness…

run, run, run
and love, love, love
…

In Piazza del Limbo where stories are turning to dust,
where the sky lost its stars or the night is always young,
he knelt at the bottom of the stairway, hands locked in prayer
for the sixty steps that were, for the sixty yet to come…

Autoportret

Posted on by

12747811_1570256413299939_1821056769_n

Alb și negru,
când scriu sufletul meu se preschimbă în umbre
și fiecare literă devine o sete de vorbe,
e sare printre rânduri și cuvintele sunt sculptate în pereți de sare
și e sete în portretele ce curg din uitare,
și în ochi se strecoară fum când plouă cu soare…

Cerul e plumb – se așterne și se coboară,
pe umeri se așează nu lumea ci Marea Povoară
și unghiile îmi sunt solzi de sare,
cu care macin stâncile și le mut din cale,
și norii adânci ce alunecă spre seară
se desprind din trupul fără picioare…

Alb și negru,
sufletul meu nu e nimic decât o stare…

The thief

Posted on by

The Book Thief

Hail to the thief…
sunken memories and angry bits, he took them all
and I lay here under the sun,
its rays are burning holes that descend into the pit where I’ve last seen my soul
it turned the skies to ruby diamonds that reflect the question marks that anchor present to the past
and all the rust of chains and heavy ropes – it’s time to cut them loose…

Hail to the thief that stole my heart and broke me free,
my constraints are all self made,
built upon a reasoning  of faulty images that came to me as deities,
but now I am back to open space
and I see all these pages empty waiting to be ridden into higher conscience…

Hail to the thief…
this is how I’ve learned to fly
leaving on the ground all the doubts that kept me down
and passengers that chose all the right directions but not mine,
it’s an airplane filled with summer and complicity and table games
and I don’t try to win a race for it’s I that keeps the pace…

Amintiri

Posted on by

Johanna Harmon - Tutt'Art@

Era într-o seară de martie
când cerul se încruntă și tu te plimbai pe jumătate nălucă,
agățată de două gânduri, împinsă de trei cuvinte,
pașii te poartă singuri și tu mergi înainte…

Port astă-seară citate din tine,
nebuni ce am fost pentru ziua de mâine…
aveai dreptate în unele privințe
tăcerea e un dar ce chinuie și minte,
te caut în muzee și-n actrițele diverse
și în Vis retrăiesc din clipele perfecte…

Iubirea mea, moartea e de formă
din lut suntem zidiți, din ceară și vorbe,
și este o vreme ce-i ruptă de toate
unde și acum ne îmbrățișăm în șoapte,
eu și tu și vise pentru lumea toată…

Era într-o seară, în parcul cu mere
un buchet de speranță legat de durere,
și după trei cuvinte am mers înainte
cu pașii departe, cu pieptul de fiere,
Iubito e seara de Înviere…

Alice

Posted on by
Mirrormask 2005

Is it me or is it Alice,
when I cut the rope it starts raining,
hands be moving and two penny rolling down the page to thirty,
show me mercy…
show me kindness
I am hiding in the laughing, smiling faces to the floor
and the days are getting shorter and the nights are getting old,
fancy ice-cream on the highway, chocolate in the heart of storm
it’s a name my lips be spelling as a fan of Rolling Stones,
like a hopper in the grass
like a monster with a dress
they had red wine for a breakfast in the middle of the west…
So is it me, or is it Alice,
days were gone and couldn’t notice
Grandma’ told me to be fair
but the heart of things to come will not take another turn,
fifty steps along the rhyme may not spill the fairy’s tail
nor the pockets full of gold
and the hundred sixty something of the words I could have told;
Alice darling,
are we really getting old?
the story stands, the hippie hands, with tattoos at the ends,
a suburb house with funny trees
two kids and a dog called Steve and a cat we gave no name…
Is it me or is it Alice,
that we want to start anew
getting young is not for lonesome but for all the very few,
killing me and killing you
giving birth to someone new….

Colors

Posted on by

art-artist-artistic-artsy-Favim.com-3301184

I am a color,
that changes with thoughts that travel my soul
sometimes I am blue or green or even black as the deep
and later on I turn to purple, white or yellow or sunrise…
They tried to give me a name,
to call me somehow, to recognize me when passing by,
but failed to see inside my core
so no name is able to define me as a whole,
for I am no rose, nor red nor the shade of sad,
I am a feeling that glides with the aspects of life
and I can be dark and pink at the same time,
and when you blink I am gone, already turned into another one…
I am a color,
and things that I touch I paint them with facts,
so they stand witness in the past of days that came and went
of ideas that pierced my brain,
of long rives that fall into great seas that turn into oceans,
that carry on the colors of the birth of the universe
and along with them a little part of me,
the color of existence, the color of unknown,
I paint the world with parts of my heart,
with colors that turn into sounds…
I am a color,
and my words are bits along the spectrum of white,
objects that live and die at the same time
I am a balance between need and fulfill
and once put together I am gone as you will,
I am a color that can not be seen…