Ecclesiastes of A Job... Of despair my heart is bleeding, Something wrong must have happened today, Pieces of breath, frozen singing Memories searching their way. No more, no shore departing, No dreams to brag about, Cowards and dogs shouting, Swans never flying south. Tender whatever with roses, Bitter garment of thorns, Open which nobody closes, … Continue reading De Profundis…
Tag: Poetry
Of Psychoanalyrics and Psychoanalyrism…
I do have quite a -proven- record of linguistic maverick-ism, to the sometimes loudly outspoken frustration of some of my fellow writers, critics and others (writers and critics maybe in their own right, but not mine). Convinced NoamChomsky-st, applying his "Language is a process of free creation; its laws and principles are fixed, but the … Continue reading Of Psychoanalyrics and Psychoanalyrism…
The other side of blindness…
If side, there's always there, another... With no communication but the bridging self of the betweenness, like the torn flag of broken, subdued ideals... It's the betweenness oftentimes the side of otherness, spread, squeezed, immense, belittled, there, forgotten victim "rightfully left" paying dues to the left, to the right, to whosoever's shameless "I've been there … Continue reading The other side of blindness…
Abiding deep…
Abiding deep, like drying, reedless water; unwanted, bitter tasting washer of anything offered, dumped, forgotten there, where light has never thought of dying... Making its way to any fountain, well; to any pond. For seas are salty teardrop oceans, eyeless witnesses of what it was when clouds were roaming free embracing winds, of south, of … Continue reading Abiding deep…
Suicide from death to life…
It's a lie, our birth into this world... Mourning should have welcomed us, late, but perfect companion for all sweat, tears, blood and "doctor, doctor, the baby's not crying..." tube in, suck, "slap", "slap" "-frail, agonising human meowing...-" Blood all over, with our hideous, blueish cut away companion swimming in a pathetic plastic bowl... "What … Continue reading Suicide from death to life…
Abhorred good-bye…
On the remember* of the other shore, a mountain⊠Alive and well like the intentions of a sparrow, condemned to never know the north of south⊠So wide, so tall, so barren; unmoved as the existence, stern⊠refusing any shipwreckedâs prayer, for just a little bit of space⊠A cave on high dwells empty, as … Continue reading Abhorred good-bye…
The Girl with…
No one's afraid anymore of fragile girls with dragons tattooed anywhere in between the top of their heads and the long, old train which left the day innocence and hope were last seen in their tears... When dies, innocence leaves a hollow scar, in which hope lays before the final door slam, an egg. It … Continue reading The Girl with…
Social Poem 3
"Does anybody here remember Vera Lynn?" No one out there to remember, no one to reply. Innocence is past, with no one to imagine what is was... Legions of faded poppies marching quietly over ashes of once resurrected hopes; When I was younger I remember dreaming about being older; now that I'm older I don't … Continue reading Social Poem 3
Social Poem 2
Why is it that every bit of a stone raised to hit with, arrives precisely at nearly every moment of each day, straight away, against my very, every tooth left unsmashed by previous, attempts to secure 'em a well deserved p(a)lace in the newly appointed Paradise for Handheld Teeth Smashing Stones. In that very Paradise, … Continue reading Social Poem 2
Che Guevara…
I finally understood my absolute incapacity to understand life... I have no idea what is it, where does it come from, what is it made of... Hansel and Gretel once told me, that life as we know it, comes from deep forests; but you can't trust 'em: I've been told they're just pathetic PR agents … Continue reading Che Guevara…
The Theoretical Philosophy of Existential Poetry 