Tag Archives: Life

creative-writing, Fiction & Poetry, fiction and poetry, Life, lost, Love, Poems, Poetry, Writings

Metalhead

99-koncert-baciary-w-zakopanem

Red lights devour the earthly silence,
crushed bits of half scribbled lyrics
lie all over the floor consumed by the unseen darkness.

the smell of the warm untouched beer disappears
as I hear someone scream with an agony and a common distaste
for this sinking society, for wars, for people,
on my speakers.

It is a gift sometimes
when after a shitty tiring day
you don’t have to scream your lungs
out, you don’t have to thrash things,
you don’t have to think of death:
someone records and does it for you.
You just have to listen.

I believe there is no god,
just a few men and women
who show us the death, without the fear
tickling our spine through their dark
melodies and works.

I live another new day,
I hide another terrible scream,
I switch to the next song.
I am a Metal-Head.

 

 

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creative-writing, Fiction & Poetry, fiction and poetry, Life, Love, Poems, poetry, think

Ashes of the Asylum

Even the benevolent breeze
spares the scattered ashes
of what was once an asylum
for flesh and bones trapped
within wandering souls.

They told me in school
that red and green fuses to yellow
but all I can see are the dark ashes,
the remains of the magnificent tree.

The birds cannot rest,
the dogs are dying of heat
and I can’t write my poems,
for I was a patient of that asylum,
it caressed my sanity every evening.

My poems have nowhere to go,
they don’t hide in the branches as they used to,
now they hide within me
and I hide inside them.

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dream, Fiction & Poetry, fiction and poetry, Imagine, Life, Poems, poetry

At Last – Ballad.

The Mirrors tremble by the winds,
the beginning of the ends draw near,
with footsteps, she slithers in the mansion
lighting all the beautiful chandeliers.

A hymn echoes out of nowhere
and my bones now shiver with dread.
For I do not see even a shadow in sight
But I do smell her lips crome-red.

I pray to all the gods,
the very ones, I once disavowed.
For a death that would be a blessing,
for the heart that was once too proud.

Lightning pierces the dry bark of the trees,
the fire leaves the poor animals aghast,
She laughs at me finally in a veil of white terror,
and I meet her in this afterlife at last.

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creative-writing, dream, Fiction & Poetry, fiction and poetry, Life, Poems, Poetry, sadness

A 4 Euro Smile

I frantically search it
in the mirrors,
it isn’t there.

Dusted family albums
leaves no trace of it.

I remember well,
I did not leave it outside last night.
I wasn’t that drunk.

My dog cannot search it,
he stupidly barks.

The Beer does not bring it back
nor does the water,
neither does the chocolates

this light and the darkness,
the sun and the moons,
my entire childhood,
they have no answers,
no fucking clue.

But only one question for me.

Why don’t you just buy it again?

– Smile.
A Mask of Happiness.
A Breeze of Contentment.
A Light of Hope.
A Kiss of Success.

Just buy it.
Fake it.
Live it.
As you do it every other day.

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beauty, Fiction & Poetry, fiction and poetry, Heart, Life, Love, Poems, Poetry, Writings

Confluence

Come have a peek,
these doors of the heart
don’t open by themselves.

Mind the rust,
for some thoughts died quickly
oxidized by the stinking air
of negativity.
They never passed through the heart.

Mind the accumulated dust,
for some thoughts entered and suffocated,
sadly turned to ashes
without even tasting the blood.
Their resurrection is impending.

Mind the mystic music,
for it heals and unifies a few chosen thoughts,
here they mate and produce the progeny of an image,
which I paint with my palette of words.

Mind the warm divine river.
On its bank, I stand and paint the image,
with the air caressing my hair and
the wet grass below my feet.

The Confluence of above all,
is what you are reading,
is what I offer everyday
to the gods and mortals
who I meet in the path
of my destiny.

 

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dream, Fiction & Poetry, fiction and poetry, Life, Love, Poems, Poetry

Taste the Light

header-writing-accoutremont

With every dream
of those strange colored icicles
and those unimaginable caves.

From the survivals and fallouts
from those painfully realistic
nightmares

and the drowning of the entire
sub-structure of it, in the whole of rum,
to rage against the dying night.

We have flooded the brain,
indebting it of our memories.

it is a sky now, so full of fireworks
it seems like floating nebula of dust and light.

Don’t let it suffocate.
Don’t let a genocide kill what you imagine.

Write and let the light taste the paper.
like it should.

 

*Rage against the dying night taken from Dylan Thomas’s Poem of the same name*

 

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