She sips and sips,
drinks up the whole cup of dreams
while admiring; while loving.
Her head still aches;
her phone never rang;
who really gives a damn?
Her lips are in smile;
her mind is in bloody pain;
and the girl in blue doesn’t know how to walk.
S
Quiet.
Midnight flights glowing.
Drowning in my thoughts,
I kicked the pill away,
shot it to nowhere land.
It was the darkest night.
The old moon was not right.
I made a wish regardless,
negligent of the dawn,
when I read of my loss in the news.
S
“Reclining Woman” by Erich Heckel
“Take care of all your memories. For you cannot relive them.”
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
“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.
S
“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”.
