...so fragile when tender mercies mourn above forgotten mornings, with sand beneath the alabaster dreams, how few the sounds are of unsung old memories, unworthy on the parchment of what seems, to be just shallow echoes of some senses, long buried in my bloody battlefields. they're all Moriahs, all my hills and mountains, with stairs … Continue reading Moriah…
Category: Poetry
Bastard…
Corn's on my steps... so goldish yellow like the remembered shadows of a forgotten submarine. So many seeds... like soldiers ordered back from an unwanted battle. Green horns... so long and fading, like the desires of a eunuch's dream. No roots though... just bark of foreign trees beneath. It's never... another time of a forgotten … Continue reading Bastard…
Massada…
But who’s this blind-child of my lonely memory, unwanted morning yet unfollowed by another? Whose time we chew, whose banner do we tear apart; why bother? Alone, bewitched by what complete would mean if empty’s so rewarding, stand I and mourn… I’ve lost my mind, I’ve lost my senses and lost has grown the day … Continue reading Massada…
Agnostic Manifesto…
Banned, from all begging songs were I... As morning came, and buds broke free their long awaited colours, I listened for another hush... but dumb my soul remained, in silence other than my own, to paint the shade of unseen colours yet unborn, yet silent... as the Ruach, unchanged through aions would usher yet another … Continue reading Agnostic Manifesto…
“Not dark… yet… ” – Schizophrenica Magna
I would remember any time available for thought. I could avenge all memories chewable, or less... I should attain for nothing more than senses... I? Me! Why? Why's no one else available for thinking? Why so alone am starving here for waitings, I...? Bye... Just me and I...
Dali…
Poor eyes, framing a storm of melting senses, painstakingly written all over a canvas of dreams... Poor brain, hunting a hoard of images too pure to remain sounds of a melting echo... Poor heart, unbeaten by what order would have murdered for... Perfect it seemed, and bound to freedom... with, and without the Salvador...
Silence of the lamps…
...on existentialism Of scars and bars I am remembered, Long time ago when sheep we were, and lambs; When every “tender” felt like thundered, Within the silence of the lamps… Some other moments I may wish to follow, But there’s no “other”, there’s no “that”; Just crumbs of an existence, shallow, Like the perspectives of … Continue reading Silence of the lamps…
…lia
Do you remember ...lia? How I used to wait every Transylvanian spring just for your velveted self? The air was still rare there up, where snow and the sky below shared the dripping thinness of May... Grandma always dragged me all the way through the park, for the bark and your purple stained white... Do … Continue reading …lia
memento mori…
As time goes by, “and” slowly becomes eternity’s pathetic substitute…
Social poem 1
They're all gone now. Swallowed down by windy pipes gone by... Some hairy brushes sinking low below Those every seconds left untouched. Where's time now mum? Where is it m'am? So fond of words, so fond... Label me life; label me as you would label toes... Dead, cold, as the reminder of an unpaid day … Continue reading Social poem 1
The Theoretical Philosophy of Existential Poetry 
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