Category: Poetry

Two decades ago you came from glory hole
I was told, the story of highs and lows
you my little snow, melt me from the coast
from the void I didn’t know
you my little dear, my little pear
hear, the May is chanted, the day has come
the fish is swimming, chewing gum
and we are kissing, tongue to tongue

The little face looks afraid
The little dress flows overr the shadow
The lips stick up
with kisses
The drop runs out
from eyelids
The shinning crystal in your face
drown me in sympathy and hate
The babysitter is not safe
A scissor sister came from grave
lost a jade, burnt her face
yelling in the darkness, at the place
I was, with my eyes bleeding
pray for grace

Wake up in the scream
I feel like steamed
In the dream
The glass pour me in
Finger tips on skin
Warmth on your little chin

3h

Image is innocent
Sound is naive
Text is merely a kid
They follow
a list of wish
of their mother’s need

Shouting all the time,
the crowd is
I found myself sitting
how I want to be

Pleasing everyone
I cannot be
Yet I could show
some sights very honestly

Among the concrete trees
I am looking for a little key
to open the door of perception
to sail the ship of relation
voyage of frozen moments
bizzare and absurb lemons

22h

Pity kind of sweet
Pity kind of kiss
kiss the lemon swiss
As I went of a slip
I saw the kindly witch
I saw the lazy kid
And I smile for pity

The craft of sweet and kiss
the myth of
what I live for
where I sleep on
When I fall
how I meet
the beautiful witch
the adorable she

Man like me
should care for nothing
but freedom of speech
The red circle
turns to the green glass
the green shadow
means the dream class

Dreaming is always
as realistic as
the birth of bean
blossom of ginger
metaphor of the old

The lamp
one and two of them
three and four
go fro
through the door
the perception of all
and ignition of fire

The core of more
and the soul of sour
are meant to be the law of all
without hate or adore

The stars are shinning at
the jaws
The passage through the mall
turn into a ball
rolling into the moral life
bathing in the oil of the
permanent dirt
based on
bricks scattered
along the pavement
through the journey
space of odyssey
time of all
all of all

03h

Scream to the shadow
darkside of the window
share with fellows
the lonesome travel
on the killing pistol

The apple trees of electricity
The glass door of plasticity
An elephant of radioactivity
A man lack of individuality
were lost
in the green corridor
would never please
the stupid wish
of kitsch

15h

3 March 2008

The maze, the crowd
the men, the smell
of what we’ve seen
and where we are

The cow in the pool
on the hot thin wire
four baptists go into the metal tower
for the memory of future,
the sound of letters,
the paintings of numbers,
the pages of colours

The gold mine is empty
The river is slow
The shoes are empty
Floating from the rail

The soul is empty
The hands are old
The body is empty
Soaking in the oil

Preserve the gold mine
and the sand dunes
from the wind
and the blow
from hands
and growth

1 March 2008

On the land of cotton flowers
sea of cotton trees
A boat is sailing east
The doors are locked tight

Vehicles are surfing in the wind
Dusts are snowing on my skin

The shinny waves run through the curtain
There is no one beside me and my heroine
I heard the symphony of odyssey
through the drums
yelling at me

On this land of cotton flowers
Sea of cotton trees
I refused to leave
but I have to
I must

13h

29 February 2008 20h30
A child is yelling
with a yellow backpack
His father is sitting still
holding him

Started to be annoyed
scolding the little head
Awaiting, looking, what to be happened-

fighting, hitting,
the little trousers
the tiny shoes, ran away
Fading, the noise is

The mot shouts
The little apple
is cute