1. Still Corners – The Trip
2. FOALS – Mountain At My Gates
3. The Smiths – I Know It’s Over
4. The Strokes – The Adults Are Talking
5. The Lost & Found Workshop – For Better or Worse
Cider Blues
I got this bottle of cider and Janis on a disc
lonely, hurt, I write you letters
and my soul jumps a little bit,
the words seem incomplete
all I need is a hot summer on my cold street
a mustang that never gets tired
and your hands down my hips…
I tilt my head onto the rhythm
the mouth spreads lies
and other sweet things you’d like to feel,
I wonder
what in the whole world I could’ve said
so outrageous, wicked, so bad
that got you on that early train….
And I got the blues baby
it’s pushing the desert in me
my sunrise caught me dreaming
this silence is an old stoker,
but all I need is a hot summer on my cold street
a mustang that never gets tired
and your hands down my hips…
Holy Ash
Writing glances to the sun
bathing in the days sculpted in your inner eye
your skin is turning red while memories are boiling
to the scent that got you drunk before
and burning on your upper thigh
is a portrait of the saint that touched your soul…
but let your head fall
into the glory, to drink up once more
the savage pleading covering you whole
while listening to Pink Floyd,
arms open wide
mouth does speak the words
and it is all but fantasy,
wake up,
memories are cruel
wake up,
before this weight breaks you too…
They once put me on the cross
ironing my feathers next to yours,
how could you keep your heart untouched
plead forgiveness where I cry for war –
it is holy ash
and it is raining from above
brushing colors onto Kafka’s wall…
Follow me,
under the sun I dared to dream
and I was gone so flawlessly
whole world turned dark and I came to be alive
given to feel this symphony
caressing moss that spreads on you
among the hills springs silently
the sea that pours the life in me,
oh, give it back…
for stars bewitched be moving
on summer nights when lights are out
and moments seem to last forever,
I will fall so deep
grasping for a meaning I intend to keep,
it made me kneel
when all prayers in the book have failed
and learned true love can never heal…
The Wake Up
What have you done?
Where are you now?
It’s not a first,
you didn’t learn a thing –
and now you start to pray
to angels in the skies and all the ones beyond,
wash away my fear
let me hurt them all
my true words be spilling all feelings that’ve gone wrong,
even if I stay alone
and my poetry may never find a home,
in the deepest dark
let me find a path to light…
What have I done?
Where are we now?
A cruel thing did happen
along with deeds I’ve done
the pastor tried to save me
but all I were was scribbles on the wall,
speak to summon me
and hold on to the shapes I drew on you,
dancing on the silence
a tribute for the wild,
I’m more awake in dreaming
mornings bring the night,
for a falling star I witnessed wished upon my heart…
Nucul
Și am fost nevoit să deschid fereastra pentru că profunzimea cerului căuta să se oglindească în ochii mei..
Trunchiul bătrânului nuc mirosea a mușchi îmbibat de apă și acoperit de frunze moarte. Despicat sub greutatea timpului, brațele sale erau ținute pe loc de un vechi lanț ruginit pus cu ani în urmă, pe alocuri pătruns în lemn și acoperit de scoarță. Două cuie și o scândură îl transformau în post de comandă pentru jocurile cu personaje imaginare. De la trei metri înălțime, când ai doar 11 ani te simți într-o cu totul altă lume. Genunchiul stâng sângera ușor de la prima încercare de a urca, zădărnicită de scoarța netezită de ploaia de dimineață.
Atunci am realizat că totul era efemer și am plâns cu ură, cu revoltă și cu frustrare. Lumea plină de minuni a inocenței mele se izbea de neputința nucului de a-și ridica brațele pentru a privi lumina stelelor iar fața mea ardea de rușinea realizării și lacrimile nu reușeau să-i alunge flăcările…
Remember
Doubts and dreams and dragons
blurred all things we did together
how come I do not remember
what made me ask you out,
was it cream or was it sugar
in the very first cup of coffee
was it good or was it crappy
on the street or after pancakes,
sympathy or desperation
I still search my inspiration
if there was a single thing
I have found to make me cling
how come I do not remember
was it May or in December,
did we take a trip to Spain
booked a train or airplane
simple things we used to say
and the days we’ll celebrate
what’s your flower did I know
yellow dress or bleu ciel,
is it lost or wasn’t there
what’s the color of your hair,
did I really see your eyes
or drank soda telling lies,
and the songs I used to play
did you like or did you fake,
how come I do not remember
was it sand or was it pebbles
did we swim or did we slander
what it feels to be together,
were I sleeping or awake
something’s off, did it break
and I’m trying to remember
what I loved in late November…
The Great Fall
Give me back my summer
and the train trips to the north,
all the walks we took from may to autumn
the hours that we called,
kissed my lips in late October
dancing late on uphill flowers blue,
watching sunsets in the distance
and the purple star of me and you….
All the songs we shared that winter
had a note of missing you,
eased with me in evening snowing
in a room with dreams above,
yellow flowers in the cold rain
we drank red tea after hours,
and the day we left for wonders
I have loved you more the same…
Third trip to Lisbon
The map is painted
red dust, blue dust and dusty imagination,
over borders that are closed
we cross boundaries erected for the folk
going around the shitty bistro by the side of the square
we find pleasure in a convent struck by the truth,
breathing in deep the elevator takes you high in the sky
it wasn’t green tea in that cup of wine
and under the sword of the King of whites
you take a step to freshen your calves…
Restage a photo on the tower of stone
with pillars of truth to wash out the lies
my hair has grown long so I am feeling no cold
the eyes are sad and that’s just too bad,
for we sail on a trail of perversion
down from the castle to the turn of the whore
her music enthralls with thirst like a goal
and chasing on dreams doesn’t stop the fall
it’s like a drug from The Book of Kerouac
another story to sell on the brink of a war…
We owned a dog and a cat with no name
in a suburb house that collapsed from the shame
and it took some time to bury its heart
deep in my chest where it always belonged,
with my last ticket I booked on a feeling
the tram 28 took me far in the wild
to battle resistance from the unknown
in Lisbon I am a giant of stone
and on the backside of my left arm I tattooed the sun
to remember the light where there is none…
Alice V
I’m the one who called you Alice
right before our high hopes shared the storm,
I gave you a name to remember
when you crossed from one world to the other –
and off the rabbit hole she went…
Dancing through the looking glass
you’ve left red ribbon riddles for the hunters
and Alice dearest is sipping on the tea,
it never ceased to be a world of wonders
but don’t forget the name I gave to you…
These hands caressed your face
seeking understanding in the purple seas
yet blinded by a wonder I ignored to see,
the road was paved on ashes
and you Alice, are burning far from me…
Wif
What if,
what if my words are coming out,
to summon monsters from a child
if each of roads I take splits after a while
and no book wants to stay forever on the bookshelf that I choose?
Let me share the starry mornings after blacking out the night
having coffee in the garden on a swing under the grapes,
love builds pouring wine onto your lower lips
and in confession kneeling to the priest,
darling, don’t forget to kiss….
Do not sip, open up and have this drink
we’ll be crying playing bands from ’96,
all I cared for leave in Tromsø hiking daily in the woods
long have rusted our dreams on a German royal bridge
and in days my nights be spilling seeking for a better self…
What if each of steps this stairway asks be taken brings one closer to the Sun
and so my wings are inked in blood and not glued feathers on
for once to taste the ale with Muninn
planted seeds to grow an army;
what if I must write this story with the ashes of the old?
Un Jurnal Neverosimil 