I am the
I am the darkness
the might to be
and the state of being I can not control,
a feeling
lost in between times
a single line going straight to you…
you are a friend
but not the one to me
and I scream into the void
I scream my will to exist
free from fear
free from the prison I have accepted in me
I will you to be,
the one
the one that is there waiting for me
a doorway to another existence
another chance to be
free form weight
open to all
gravity pulled
sunward emotion
I need a feeling to transform my devotion,
love me
adoration
I am but a soldier
unwanted commotion,
you love me
the emotion
I am
resolution
darkness
my way is commotion…
Category Archives: Wrong signals
Words
I did not write a single word to tell you how I feel,
alcohol, cocaine and fears
my brightest bloom is here,
unsolvable commotion in the great white riddle
the night is here darkness never left this room
nothing is of what it seems
the fire river is born from tears
words are meaningless
they empty as they turn to bricks and build the walls…
No other way
I pray to my Lord
to wake up one day and say to myself “there is no other way”
I’ve been weak
I have been Disturbed
listened to bad rock for my father’s good luck…
I am The Beast,
a giant crawler coming from East
invading the west with desire to nest
with no responsible fashion I invoke good tension, in your bones –
scream
moan
take what you want dearest Simone
you filthy loyal lovable whore
you turn my life into porn gore,
with the head in the sand it is you that’s going to bend
my precious doll,
I have no soul, you took it from me
drinking your poison set me free
let me be, touch and see, the garden of Eden is not for me
I must suffer, must endure –
Be my inspiration
late night vision and dark temptation
ignite my fire, give me wine and call me “Sire” in the Church and in my tower
make me devour
You!
kneel before me and take me good
like only true lovers should
I long to feel The Need, to drop a tear
before I paint your body with white smear,
give me children give me life,
transform me sweeter, help me be born twice,
for in the desert with no joy
you are my future where I am your toy
to play a new note on a tight chord,
exposing disaster
go faster
show me love’s wicked drug, exploit my desire
never tired
“there is no other way”…
Mr Wong and Miss Wright
I got shot in the dark
with the gun I used to break their hearts
shattered in a million pieces all I’ve left is broken wishes
missing form the greatest puzzle
the wrong answers to the right questions,
they will paint my face on the bigger picture
tell me stop
ask me be better
held on to the feelings my chest could not gather,
I have seen you naked but my skin was covered
taking in the space between us, the whole grew larger
nothing more to share but attaching distance
you call the rains but the soil is poison
and I want to grow and seed a forest, larger than the world…
Beautiful borders that we forgot to seal
turned from yellow flowers to red brick walls
and the song I used to play never called you anyway,
I gave her a name and she marked it down in stone
it did not change it did not even glow
acting in a story that we somehow stole
the rhyme is off
the tempo is cold
and I am freezing when we should be burning slow,
the nights are longer with the steps we take
what there is to do when there is nothing left to say
my heart belongs to me in the most profound of ways,
if this won’t kill us it is not a passage of any kind
for I can not see the future yet I am far from blind…
I am drinking red wine that turned into blood
metallic with a taste to cut out your tongue
it feels like the days I spelled your eyes wrong
and you gave me water that washed our souls,
Miss Wright is out of control
Mister Wong is ever so bold
tell me to stop
ask me be better
nothing left to do before I write this letter
something must change or it’s hog-killing weather
I can not go the same to the end of summer
it is in my bones that I seek an honest meaning
and if you ever try again tell me so I can take cover
love is a curse but it must not be made harder…
Seven nation
White shirts, pink shirts, blue shirts, neat shirts
derbies and the black pressed underpants
shave that beard and loose the longhair
cut on bubbles after hours, have martini
mother wants you home by ten
is this what you’ve meant?
waking up at seven, going in at eight
cigarette at midday splitting up the day
working in an office posing as a clerk
serving for the country in the kindest way
communism negation in a socialistic nation
is this what you’ve meant?
is this what you’ve meant?
got a girl that’s dressed in leather
watches Oprah, thinks she’s clever
at the shop she cleaned a headgear
feeds the beaver, pushed a lever
she looks stunning like a badger
is this what you’ve meant?
like a chef she cooks a rabbit
that looked dead before you had it
goes to church one year in seven
wants some kids but cats are glaring
and the bourbon says she’s had it
is this what you’ve meant?
is this what you’ve meant?
having taught you scored a shiny diamond
you have gained blue painted marbles
growing heavier by the hour, you’re in pain…
friends you’ve left in ivy leagues knew better
worthy is the patience to inherit and not gather
is this what you’ve meant?
nation ranked eleven on a scale from one to heaven
perfection by the books based on telling how they look
down to earth the greatest fear is to see but not to hear,
honeybees are used to follow even when the queen is hollow
colored yellow, scented sweet, break your back…
is this what you’ve meant?
is this what you’ve meant?
is this what you’ve meant?
is this what you’ve meant?
break that glass…
is this what you’ve meant?
shove it up that ass…
is this what you’ve meant?
now is that what you’ve meant?
$ld: ldump –raw
Where is the… the raw cruel pain of being alive? I had dreams for a while. I remember having them. At least for some time. They would often come out like popcorn in the microwave: salty or sweet, hot at first and with a smoky aftertaste. Simpler days, when reading under the blankets at 1 AM was the best it could get. And following the lines of an old library tome I was escaping reality, somewhere far beyond where anything was possible…
The raw and the cruel are right here. COVID-19, Australian fires, Florida storms, plane crashes, killer hornets… But is that all so abnormal that we feel suffocated or maybe it was always out there in a form or another and what is actually happening is just a sick form of feeding hard to swallow information to everybody in order to induce mass psychosis and depression. I don’t say we shouldn’t be careful and protect ourselves or that all of the above is fantasy. But what if all this negativism thrown at us just another form of war? What if we needed a war in order to progress, to boost “post-war” economy, to shake us form the procrastination that engulfed us as of lately?
Continue readingThe Game (II)
Good morning, good night
this is how it passes by, my time,
I am selling stories, sweet little lies alright
it is getting old and easier, I’ve been told,
so I took a white empty card,
wrote down words and question marks
and played poker with the heart…
My house is built on wrong,
the sun eludes the backyard every time
in pitch black night there is no moon,
no windows, only bricks up to the clouds,
the postman never comes
carols are like apples when they fall,
and it’s frozen, raining cold…
Good night, sleep tight my love,
roll down dreams to keep them flowing,
pour it slowly and fill our glasses
naked water for the conscious drowning,
because noses can not smell beauty
hands can not touch without the skin
and eyes, eyes need light to see…
Stone-giant
Sixty steps, the stairway’s broken and you hear the stereo noises
on your knees you heal your bruises
and the raindrops start to roll down the forehead that is cold,
questions looking for their answers in a song that’s pretty dull
where Nottingham has roots in stories so it dreams itself alive
and its paths diverge in alleys that run farther from the Sun…
I have chosen, Ego sum, I was wrong,
perfect sense does not exist in a state of altered mist
it is pressure that transforms dirty coal into cliché shining bliss
– and not a kiss;
his ribs are cut from stone and so are all the looks he’s given
and the devil smiled and put a tingle on your lower Eastern lip…
Nil
There’s no fight, there is no war
we give up and we go home,
we don’t scream, we do not cry
it is so late, why even try?
Dust’s a carpet on the floor
our shoes do walk no more,
and the mirrors won’t reflect
any thought we’ve never had…
Rain’s still filling up our rives
sailing boats down to the sea,
there’s an island without trees
used to shovel up our dreams…
There’s no struggle, no debate
tore down this wall we’ve made,
we do not speak, see to the south
there is light but it’s not ours…
The crossing
I cannot walk for I have lost my feet
rain is pouring washing my last words
I need a big fire to bring a little light
in this valley in the middle of the night,
I still got the guns but forgot how to use
the powder is wet and my will in rust
tonight the stars won’t show direction
I need a friend in whom to put my trust
and Steve lies on a floor many stories ago
where my dreams rest behind shut doors,
and the night is getting even darker
I try to shout but my lungs won’t listen
falling faster and deeper than ever before
relapsing on drugs to blind me from truth
I won’t believe nor listen to the signs
for it hurts too much finding out
this world of shadows is of human design…
I need to open my eyes and look further
hook my fingers in dirt and start climbing
use my bruises to feel and heal stronger,
to start writing when words won’t come out
and find a friend that may cross mountains…
Un Jurnal Neverosimil 