Embrace…

There… Where no thoughts remain at the door to nowhere. Where autumn crawls under each fallen dream to carry it beyond forgiveness… I've learned to count backwards from illusion, hoping to reach the point of no return into some stranger's thoughts about my own defeat. When we sit down, my soul and thee, it's me...

The #autistic lives of pines…

I was born in Northern Transylvania's Maramures, at the feet of majestic mountains, covered by ancient, noble forests, with their trees as brothers to us, and sisters. Strong beeches, venerable oaks, solitary pines, imbued with the crystalline waters of pure streams … It's the pines which fascinated my people for millennia, giving us our cradles, … Continue reading The #autistic lives of pines…

Where clouds merge…

Too late to paint the shades of darkness; it’s after midnight, don’t you know? So many wounds, and so much harshness, of deaths outrunning lives too slow…   Do we remember our own image mirrored, the smell of revenge on edges of time, of tenderness scarred and hopes littered, of poems unworthy of paper and … Continue reading Where clouds merge…

Shelves to nowhere…

  I need one more day to remember tomorrow, a page underneath old volumes of pain, stolen perhaps from where’s nothing to borrow, oblivious libraries of not much to gain…   Pacing intrigued through shelves to nowhere, wars of empires coveting gold, buried beneath my belonging to somewhere, echoes and voices of stories untold…   … Continue reading Shelves to nowhere…

A metric analysis of impossible rhymes…

Life’s like a lobotomised impression inside a golden skull; too cheap to bury, too expensive to keep. A Stradivari of motionless complexities, all sailing south, monstrosities, as forbidden banners of condemned rebellions… Tied to the mast of someone else’s travels, on sleepless waves of no more dreams to catch, blinded lighthouses towering over shipwrecked carcasses … Continue reading A metric analysis of impossible rhymes…

Amazing traces…

Please watch before reading, and listen while you read: The Idan Raichel Project - Hakol Over (Everything passes) I need you to dream the colour of spaces, the time between midnight, tomorrow and trees, I beg you to fathom amazing traces, layers of clouds returning to seas… I dare you to picture small shells of … Continue reading Amazing traces…

Abandoned eagles…

A flow of matter, crossing bridges paved with idle rivers, of constant wars between no sides, for kings and kingdoms rather old… How bitter all the odds, when knights die young and simply for no reason, alone with horses mourning by their sides, while all the humble flowers of each season, spell intricate mementoes on … Continue reading Abandoned eagles…

Agnosis…

It’s not important to remember days, and wonder why has our time become so slow; it doesn’t matter anymore if there’s no thunder, after the rain, before the bow… It matters not why in our backyard’s desert, there are no camels and the Bedouins have left; what truly matters is a sense of water, illusion … Continue reading Agnosis…

Damaged goods…

My mother, pulled the trigger over my head, leaving deep patterns of blue, motionless artefacts, resembling fountains of lost youths… Amber, left cold, around pavement stones, imagined every night by owls guarding flickering souls, hiding behind shadowless candles. Darren, open the window, my son, and let us dance, like none of us has ever danced, … Continue reading Damaged goods…