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.

S

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.

S

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.

Not tonight.

S