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…
Tag: Poetry
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…
The Shape of my Heart…
The shape of my heart is blue… Odd frame of mothers, and fathers passing by; never failing to re-write the history of cubic thoughts… Shifting patterns of lensless glasses always a year behind the real need of eyes…
Gene(me)sis…
In the beginning, men watched the horizons, and ploughed the earth. And the earth was without form, and scattered with rocks; and darkness was upon their face, and in their hearts, deep... And the spirits of men moved upon the heart of the matter, and men said, “Let there be gods”, and there were gods... … Continue reading Gene(me)sis…
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…
“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...
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…
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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