What is she smiling at today, I’m wondering. Is the nature harmonized in her favor or is it just a mimic of something?

The huge-eyed girl wearing a black blazer and a dark burgundy tie, which is meant to be part of her uniform, looks ecstatic. While holding a heart-shaped tulip in her left hand and a wingless bird in her right, she magnifies all her surroundings. Her eye color amazingly changes minute after minute and she has yet to discover it. Is it her house behind her or is she just waiting for someone to wave her from the crooked windows? The sun is turning its color to white and the leaves on the bent stem are changing their shape accordingly. The only star in the sky is shining at the cross on top of what the girl has always known as an old cathedral. I look at the girl and she looks back at me in the same direction as the jaded clown resting beside her.

The nameless girl is nothing more than a framed painting on the brownish backdrop. Oddly she wasn’t smiling in the days that are considered as past.

S

I have “Dreams” on my earbuds; on repeat non-stop: “thunder only happens when it’s raining… players only love you when they’re playing…”

True or false? True and false.

Hold on a second; aren’t we all somehow players one way or the other? Players of our own life journey or perhaps a fake version of it. If we think about it with a clear mind, we realize we sometimes play it in the proper manner, but often take the deceptive path.

Right? Hmmm, right!

I have a secret, though, which I find favorable most times. When I’m trapped in the wrong path, I quickly retreat, somehow erase myself from the whole scene, and instead try to watch – or better say, observe – the whole act(s) of my self-play from an outside perspective. I have a tendency to sit in the second row or watch myself from the balcony.

Do I make sense at all or should I continue with my “Dreams”? Oh, for heaven’s sake, I’m so out of tune that it’s not even funny!

S

My name is… well, never mind.

Oh, sweetness, how should I start?
first of all, let me apologize
if I stare at you down upside.

Look far up to the May starry night
waving at you from the plane
passing above where we both belong.

You think I’m thrilled deep in my heart.
what difference does it make,
do you really mind?

It’s bouncing, I’m burning, and starsailing
don’t look up and continue
with your taxi ride, would you?

S

Crawling up the stirring metals
lucid bricks on the frozen walls
one by one, add by two, perhaps four
falling into thousand puzzles

He is loaded with nothingness
she counts her dreams and all her cents
she and them; he, himself;
tumbling into all those riddles

They hate lovers, let’s love haters
we’re all players of storytellers:
the beauty falls for the villain one
whites and blacks become one

I return, even turn
passing thought the “No Exits”
here and there, final dribbles
indulging my mislaid wishes.

S

It’s twelve past three;
swallowed in this terrorizing night
when another flame
ignites right before dawn.

The greedy concrete, the frozen thoughts;
the blank postcards and the empty lots;
she won’t trust nor will she fall for
those rendezvous spots.

The barriers, the forbidden lies;
the traffic lights and the broken time;
oh, where have all those
frankness gone?

What if her heart breaks no more;
and the yellow balloon keeps
swinging in the night that
lends away its green light.

What if her heart still tastes
the confined love?
Shit, what if the damage
is already done?

S

WHAT?!!

I just read in the news about a toddler, who is disgustingly a chain smoker. Apparently, he was first given a cigarette when he was only 18 months old and now he smokes two packs of cigarettes a day.

I feel really sick and disturbed inside my body and mind. How can an abusive loser of a father do something like this to a 2-year old child’s immaculate soul, make a film and portray it as something extraordinary or perhaps a record? It’s such gross neglect that I’m not even going to believe it.

Where is this world going to end?

Bloody hell!

S