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Mass complexities are outdated;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