The gloomy sky is dimming this town
and I get lost inside the music; immersed in red velvet.
His green apron once again provokes
every single cell in me – so does his cheerless gaze.
The days are deprived of time and words; in motives.
The lion’s boom on the cover breaks the silence –
I click on the keys while singing the lines one by one
“I pull the devil down with me one way or another.”
I regret the passing seconds on the train stop
when nobleness was drowned brutally in bluffers’ flame;
where the cracking bones were the only sound in my ears;
when a single ring was a million tributes to a moronic affair.
And I let go; slowly, gently, with pride.
“If my poetry aims to achieve anything, it’s to deliver people from the limited ways in which they see and feel.”
Live from (around the corner) Starbucks: Dire Straits’ “Sultans Of Swing” is in the air; so is nostalgia.
Coming up: personal updates and poetry – and I’m not lying.
“If you know you are going to fail, then fail gloriously.”
“Awards are meaningless to me, and I have nothing but disdain for anyone who actively campaigns to get one.”
– What time is it?
– It’s “NOW”.
“Anything worth doing is worth overdoing.”
It all started with images in the “review”
floating slowly in the night of missing words.
Twenty five fishes struggling in
a broken net, looking for nothing but survival.
The starry skyline shining in the horizon
at her, at him, at their blue love and hatred.
The girl in red kissing the hummingbird,
both in a cage; both inside the wooden frame.
The three angels, hand in hand,
in pride , they break through the soldiers’ parade.
Still no words. Still no hope.
Tori Amos will be releasing a new album – “Night of Hunters” – this Autumn.
YYYY EEEE SSSS