Where are the love affairs and the eternal gazes

at the bus stops, way under the foggy

shelters covered with nicotine patches?

Under the morning breeze when ‘to love’ is

far from a random habit, I crave the hot sand

rescuing the sealed kisses; treasuring the lost letters.

The final destination is a flawless spot filled

with leaves of grass, with singing birds and I,

I’ll linger there in silence, holding tight to my dignity.

S

Falling and shining
like a raindrop on
the wingless
butterflies.

Daring and dancing,
while covered in
red; in cruel
paper cuts.

Between the sky and
a screwed up head,
I freeze; will
then rewind.

S

One, two, three…

Converting my belief
to my inner self, while
updating my black(est) list.

Painting a faceless “you”
then erasing it with a
“who bloody cares” attitude.

Capturing the non-existent
gray sky and showing it off
to the proud shining sun.

C’est tout.

S

I am mysterious.

You – too – are mysterious.

We – all – are mysterious.

And they?

They are monsters –

mystic monsters.

I wish them…

Oh, never mind!

S

When things
go (not) so right
the clock reads the
time six hours behind,
gray mustache grows long
above the old lady’s reddish
lips, and the crown is resting
on the idiot’s no-brain; he talks about
his inner scars while the single-legged
wild pigeon is feeding the tobacco
ends – hundreds of them on the
cold concrete – to her little
ones. Yes, that’s when
things start to fall
into the (not)
right path.

S

Drip, drip, dripping
(baby) blue oil in
the flowing liquid,
on a virgin canvas.

Blending it with
a hundred free wings;
keeping my faith
in the modest sky.

Play, play, playing
behind the red velvet;
till I’ll grow up or
perhaps I never will.

Ever?

S

Let them sink deep in their unjust

mutation, their frowning faces;

let them play the nasty game

that they often play.

Let them judge you, envy you

to their last bits of bone

then pierce their evil

souls with darkness.

W for Who

and C for

Cares.

Really.

S

I turned around,

looked down,

and thought I saw you

in your special norm,

waiting impatiently

for our precious

moments.

What treasures;

short they were;

filled by unspoken

thoughts, hidden

behind the veil of sleep;

behind moralities.

I saw the flags waving

and the yellow van

stuck in the traffic,

as you were walking

under the wet sky

somewhere

alone.

Is this yet another

illusion towards a

bleak future?

Will the truth

ever be leaked while

beauty shimmers?

Clear me.

Make this

real.

S

It all started from the 14th floor,

where the miracle took its course.

Options replaced by preeminence;

pride and confidence flood in veins.

She glows and grows – day by day;

stands for more and falls for less.

Radiance flashes in her darkened eyes;

the dawn is hers, and the rich blue skies.

Drawing the peace sign in deep purple;

leaving a vestige of the whole deepness.

The wind hides in the next vineyard;

its glory is much too high to defy.

No more wonders, no more mist;

no fierce alarms and no more tricks.

Mass complexities are outdated;

No way to hinder and counsel them.

Let go, leg go, let go of the chapel’s gates

The black orchid melts in the age of innocence.

S

Three decades have passed

and I have not forgotten

the burden of bliss,

the floral cup, full of miracles,

and the heavenly pomegranate trees.

The wishes that were a heartbeat away

and the era where love was

in the highest cycle;

the past is still hanging there –

implacable yet unbearable.

Three decades (and more) are gone;

the autumn’s beauty still hits me right

and I’m still singing the same dream

in which, “thunder only happens

when it’s raining.”

You asked me where I have been;

I said, why don’t you fly with me?

You stood and stared

like a stoned Roman statue

in the coldness of the hallways.

I flew away and faded in the

white shadows above your head.

Oh yes,

the decades

have flown by

and I,

I’m getting

too hard

to beat,

my

love.

S