English Poems


Words, one after another

Forming endless(ly) overlapping worlds

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A.E., 17/11/2017 (November 2017)

The fragments of our dream
The one you didn’t want to see with me
They turned into rosy clouds, in the dusky sky
I’ll use them as my mattress
(They will be just the perfect fit for my broken body, don’t you think?)
I’ll fall asleep, counting my unfulfilled expectations
And I will dream of the dream
That you will want to see with me

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Summer’s last day (November 2017)

Your birthday is on the last day of summer
Summer ends with your birthday and it’s sad, but we celebrate
We celebrate because life is asking us to

And life is asking us to celebrate, because Her purest and most beautiful creature, you, was born on the last day of summer
As if to make a statement, the statement being that every sad end hides deep down in its heart a glorious beginning
The statement being you, Summer Girl

Summer Girl, you know it, life has been very generous with you, and you want so badly to return Her the favor
You give so much all the time and you don’t expect anything in return other than the satisfaction immediately stemming from your soul; you smile to everyone, and your smile becomes a Big Bang
And worlds are revealed, from deep down in your heart, as your heart opens up and delivers them to us, worlds full of beauty, purity, sunshine, playfulness, love

But, still, summer comes to an end, and it’s sad; but it’s your birthday, your birthday, and you throw a party for us, before you go and leave us in the cold winter, agonizing and dreaming of the moment of our salvation, when we’ll see you again
And I am looking at you, like a thirsty man in the desert would look at running water from a spring; and I want to be close to you, as much as I can, to soak in your energy and breathe in your aura before you go
Summer Girl, oh Summer Girl, I want to be next to you so that the ice in my body melts even before winter brings it over to freeze me to death

Oh, how I wish I could come with you, after your birthday party is over, and the summer is over, how I wish I could come with you, wherever you go
Be your escort and your knight protector in the mystery lands you visit when winter’s here
(Not that you would need me to be with you, but I would be the happiest man in the world if that were to happen)

I would write for you poems, day and night
I would sing to you anthems, day and night
I would collect your tears whenever you become sad, remembering what’s forever gone, realising what is never meant to come

Day and night, Summer Girl
Day and night, synchronized with the pulse of the blood in your veins
Day and night, always awestruck by the ever-manifested azure miracle, of and within your eyes

I am sorry, Summer Girl, I am daydreaming, and in doing so, I am escaping the right, the here, and the now
And the right, the here, and the now is your birthday party, Summer Girl
So, happy birthday to you, Sunny Warmth of Life

Thank you for justifying our existence, thank you for glorifying and bringing beauty and love to this grey place
And may the eternal light of the, tragically and magnificently falling, last day of Summer always shine in your heart, illuminating our faces with the hope that not all hope is lost…!

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Confusion (September 2017)

I’m afraid
Doors are closing
I’m rejected
Love is shaking
What you want is what I wanted
What I want is what you’re not
Harsh is life with her pain
Meaning always flies away
My deadlines are a circle
With its centre everywhere
Who will show me how true balance
Is attained before you faint
Who the game will reinvent
Where tradition is the trend
And tradition keeps me hostage
With the strongest, sweetest bondage
And tradition is my law
And tradition is my foe
For the time is running down
Faster, quicker, all in all
There is room for one more frown
Only I can make the call

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Untitled from Berlin (September 2017)

Berlin, in your heart everything’s true

Socialism, capitalism, anyone could be in your crew

As I’m walking through your boroughs, I feel I’m alive, I feel I’m dead

Like a deity that never had a chance to dance, to jive or simply to be heard

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Kiss me, I’m your frog (June 2017)

Kiss me
I’m your frog
Don’t miss me
I drink grog
I’m inside a wall
Infinitely patient
Just give me the ball
I’m the freshest ancient

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The love that never ends
(May 2017)

Do you find it too much when I say “I love you”?
Do you consider me a clown when I dance in the street for thee?
Are you about to laugh each time I cry when I hold you?
Are you puzzled by the fact that the more I depend on you, the more I become free?

Oh, how I wish I could caress you day and night
And give you what you need, always at the right moment
There’s no obstacle big enough to keep me from your light
As there is no right or wrong in nature’s incessant comment

We have grown together
And look what we’ve become
Survivors in all kinds of weather
A wonderful stubbornness, that will never and to no one succumb

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The champion’s pedigree (May 2017)

The champion’s pedigree

This is your true degree

The college of the pools

Is not meant for the fools

 

The numbers in the worksheets

Will never reconcile

But out there in the streets

Life flows, meanwhile

 

How many laps to go

Before the finish line?

No one could claim to know

Das Leben ist sehr klein

 

Aber, das Leben ist auch schön

Und jetzt die Sonne scheint

The race is still on

And you are born to fight

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The girl of May (May 2017)

The girl of May is on my way

She doesn’t talk, she just observes

The days, the nights, my feats and blights 

The forks, the knifes, she never lies

k

The girl of May 

Be as she may

Clouds are formed around her shoulders

She hunts the birds, she stays with me

She marks and turns, she grunts and swears

But stays with me

k

The girl of May

Bloody hooray

My life begins when she is born

My white canvass is filled with colours

Whenever she frowns, whenever she swallows

Her every breath, her every sigh

They sink me in, they make me high

k

I loved once the girl of May

I loved twice the girl of May

My dreams are real, our story unfolds

With pain and tears, a kissing bliss

The sweetest, craziest, deepest abyss

k

The girl of May I humbly serve

And in her presence I find my nerve

And patience and pride adopt new meanings

Her May roses, her May lilies 

k

There is no right, there is no wrong

There is no up, there is no down

There is no night, there is no day

Only my love, the girl of May

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Meglio felice che famoso – una poesia italiana (April 2017)

Sono sposato a Milano
Ma il mio cuore é troppo lontano
Si trova nella Trinacria
O bella, dolce patria mia

Adesso sono a Francoforte
Mi dicono che sono forte
Ma qui non é il Mezzogiorno
La notte qui sta superando il giorno

Ma ogni notte sto soffrendo
Tutto le do e niente prendo
Germania – basta! Ritorno a Sicilia
La soleggiata isola mia

Aqua, luce e montagna
Ed escursioni in campagna
Familia, cibo delizioso
Meglio felice che famoso

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Faith (April 2017)

Faith high in the sky
Roots deep inside the ground
Never ask why
Only ask how

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Saint Mauritius (March 2017)

On an island far far away
Identified by the coordinates of your sweetest Dream
That is sailing at the South Seas
And is always remaining on the surf
Of the Ocean’s wave, and on the edge of the cyclones
I ended up at a spring (over there it was autumn, of course) equinox

The real name of the island
Known by few and pronounced out loud by even fewer
Is Saint Mauritius
And whoever set foot on its hospitable soil
And was baptised in its blessed waters
Cannot help but talk about it for years and years to come

Yes, talk
And, perhaps, even talk too much about it
But, what the heck, who could blame anyone who talks too much, even in a delirious fashion, about Saint Mauritius
Anyway, come to think of it, whatever takes place on a Holy Land is, by definition, neither conventional nor trivial…

Let me then also talk about it, but where do I begin, really?
Do I begin with the elderly, chubby, quite talkative and very likable taxi driver, nicknamed “Zorro”, due to the endless (Z)ig-(Z)ags that his car wheels were drawing on the gravel (at the time) Mauritian roads, when he was a young aspiring rally driver?
Or should I begin with Blue Penny and her sister, Red Penny, the philatelists’ Holy Grails and the most valuable objects across the entire island?

Perhaps I should begin by taking about the “Eureka” mansion, which was constructed when the island was a French colony, with its squeaking, due to the enormous weight of so many secrets and sins that were never confessed, floors and its heavy wooden furniture dancing when you’re not looking, which (the mansion) is surrounded by immense and sprawling vegetation, waterfalls and a magical mountain, is guarded by the fiercest mosquitoes found in Milky Way, and of which the heir sits every day for 8 hours on a particular spot of a stony bench of the mesmerising gardens, aiming at keeping it (the spot) “warm”
Or by mentioning Belle Mare’s turquoise waters, which, no matter how many times you dive into them, you never get tired of
What about starting with dodos, which are omnipresent, even though they have, supposedly, been extinct for centuries?
Or it might make sense to begin with the Pamplemousse Botanical Garden, where the funniest, most eloquent and most witty botanist in the world (who should have become a stand-up comedian; I bet that he and I would have made a fantastic duet) gave us a tour for one and a half hour (for the price of 100 Mauritian rupees per capita, i.e. less than three euro) and shared with us the secrets of the flying saucer water lilies, of the Rasta-haired tree, of the shy mimosa that shyly folds in her leaves as soon as you touch them, of the aquatic plant with its completely waterproof leaves, of the palm tree of which its trunk’s lower part seems to consist of numerous wooden phalluses and of another palm tree which blooms once every fifty years, only to give birth to a single flower

Or should I start with the volcanic land with its 23 (and that’s one of my lucky numbers, by the way) colours?
Or what about the decadent late-afternoon lunch in the table d’ hote of Aunt Athalie (not Nathalie) who is a collector of vintage sport cars which are proudly displayed in her garden?
Or the extravagant dinner, on a par with those that one can enjoy at the finest restaurant addresses in Paris, at the Café des Arts, which is sheltered inside an old sugar mill and of which the owner is a half-lunatic, semi-permanently drunk, permanently delirious, incredible gourmet connoisseur and son of a painter, Frenchman, and whose, all but mute, waiters spend their time kicking the cockroaches passing by, so that the customers won’t notice them?
I don’t know, perhaps it would make more sense to start with this other dinner, at the café / bar of the super friendly, former Nelson Mandela’s bodyguard, Deon, with his terrific South African steaks and the human skeleton hanging above the throne in the men’s bathroom

Mmm… but perhaps I should start with the super-conscientious and customer-oriented employee of our hotel, who wandered around with a tiny spray in his pocket, which, whenever given the opportunity, he used to clean the guests’ sunglasses
Or with the discussion I had with the chatty foliage of an old tree outside a Finnish sauna
Or, perhaps better, with the (imported from Jamaica) saying regarding the proper driving conduct / etiquette across the island: “De left side is de right side, de right side is suicide”
Or, maybe, before I say anything else, I should consider beginning with the Chinese cook of that floating restaurant, who served spicy Sichuan delicacies which may not set one’s digestive system on fire as other spicy dishes so, but which rather go ahead and occupy each and every taste bud on one’s tongue for hours, which means that, even when one drinks water, it inevitably tastes like Sichuan chicken
Or should I comment on the fact that the natives of St. Mauritius, even though they are islanders and acclaimed fishermen, are desperately bad swimmers?
And, of course, it would be an unforgivable omission from my side if I didn’t stress the fact that every second building on Saint Mauritius is a Hindu temple and that on the sacred lake at the centre of the island, overseen by a huge, but at the same time unexpectedly playful, statue of God Shiva, the biggest Hindu celebration outside India takes place every year

However, since I feel I really owe it to myself, I will start with the impression the island had on me (that’s not selfish, believe me; and if you don’t, I invite you to reread the poem from the start)

I relaxed and I got recalibrated, but I also strayed quite a lot from my manifold “certainties” and, at times, I became fully disoriented
I ate a lot but I did not put on any weight; on the contrary, I lost some (credit for that should go to my excessive swimming as well as to my overconsumption of mangos, papayas and the diverse spicy local treats)
I warmly invited chaos but I also programmed a lot of stuff
I had a taste of the, overly sweet, dolce vita, but I did not manage to escape my nightmares
I thought and I wrote, I sensed and I erased
I felt as if I were the strongest and manliest man on earth, I got drunk with rum and wine, I had a taste of Paradise’s forbidden lusts; nevertheless, at certain moments, I was taken over by desperation and the awareness of my insignificance

At the end of the day, though, I experienced so many things at such a short period of time

And that makes me feel grateful
And blessed

You should go to Saint Mauritius as well
No matter if it’s winter or summer, He is awaiting you
And if time is very scarce when you’re there
I recommend you do one thing
Sit down underneath a baobab tree and listen
You are certain to hear my voice
Narrating you all those things that we are constantly living together (even though our bodies may not always be entirely aware of that fact)

All those wonderful and holy things
All those horrible and sinister things

All those things to which we owe our humanity

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The blue poem (February 2017)

More blue, only blue, and a light
Makes me happy to be alive
To hurt and have tears in my eyes
And turn from blue into blue, and stay there
Without fear, without hope
Embracing the unknown with one self
And be transformed, but yet remain
The bluest of the bluest saints
Fading away
In blue
Closing in
In blue
Surrendering and exploding
In blue, in blue, in blue

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Only Blue (February 2017)

Only Blue, Blue Only
Sea is drowning
Sky is falling
Blue Only, Only Blue

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Fiery dusk (February 2017)

Fiery dusk, over the young debutante of a city
Premonition of a long, dark and silent night
Eternal promise of a heavenly day, that will come all dressed in blue
Let us be drowned, let us be saved

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Rough nights (January 2017)

The hours are spinning
Everything’s bending
Fear of what
Is nothing

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Thanks for letting me know (January 2017)

Thanks for letting me know

The road is open

Thanks for letting me know

My heart’s your showstopper

Thanks for letting me know

Thanks for letting me know

Thanks for letting me have

A string of emotions

Thanks for letting me see

Your meaningless motions

Thanks for letting me have

Thanks for letting me see

Thanks for letting me be

Around the corner

Thanks for setting me free

And mourn the mourner

Thanks for letting me be

Thanks for setting me free

Thanks for letting me know

I’ll never make it

Thanks for letting me know

I mustn’t fake it

Thanks for letting me know

Thanks for letting me know

Thanks for letting me live

I feel I’m falling

Thanks to have me believe

I never was rolling

Thanks for letting me live

Thanks to have me believe

Thanks for letting me know

I’m not a star

Thanks for letting me know

I won’t go far

Thanks for letting me know

Thanks for letting me know

Thanks for letting me know

Thanks for letting me know

Thanks for letting me know

Thanks for letting me know

Thanks for letting me know

Thanks for letting me know

Thanks for letting me know

Thanks for letting me know

Thanks for letting me know

Thanks for letting me know

Thanks for letting me know

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Scenery (December 2016)

In any kind of scenery
That’s where I find me
That’s where I have a self
That’s where I know my turf

I believe in a God who’s an actor and a singer
I believe in a God who drives a tractor, and with one finger
Scatters on the ground our manifold misdeeds
Which then become the Other Life’s precious, fertile seeds

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Would you like to embark on a transformational journey with me  (December 2016)

Would you like to embark on a transformational journey with me?
We might not see mountains, we might not see the sea
At times we will feel lonely, desperate, disgusted and homesick
At times you might be hating me

But I’ll be talking, you’ll be writing
Until we straighten all the facts
We’ll be impeccably presenting
The way forward to what our hearts
Are craving for, like sunflowers craving for the sun

The process will be simple
Only you and I are going to matter
Good intentions won’t be enough
The mystery of life once again will tear us apart
But then you’ll clearly understand
That I wasn’t made to be special
You weren’t made to always be true

But maybe, we were made to meet and set each other free
So I’ll finally become a full-time poet and you’ll become, well, me

Allow me, therefore, to ask you once again:
Would you like to embark on a transformational journey with me?

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Untitled (December 2016)

The thing with eyes is
They cannot see themselves
The thing with life is
It never begins, it never ends

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4 Bogomil monks (November 2016)

4 Bogomil monks dropped by today in the Bank
They came in peace and meant well, they weren’t riding a tank
I offered them many a figure, I even treated them a chart
Which made them laugh and whisper in my ear: “your science, our friend, is nothing but a form of art”

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Untitled (November 2016)

Catch that butterfly-thought
Gently put it down and wait
Inspiration can’t be bought
And the words are never late

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Poem 23/11 (November 2016)

The poem I want to write for you

It has no words but only pictures

It has you smiling, beneath your grey hat

Very beautiful, very elegant, very you

It has you walking within a sphere of warmth and kindness

It has you calling me back to reality

It has you eating little

It has you drinking little

It has you enjoying every moment of the day

It has you saying yes and meaning it

It has you saying no and meaning it as well

It has your blue, gentle eyes, looking at things clearly and honestly

It has plenty, wonderful, little moments that I could share with no one else but you

Maybe it has also me

A bit grumpy, a bit crazy, a bit clumsy, but always meaning well

Most of all, the poem I want to write for you

Is the least I can do

To express my gratitude

For having met you

You’ve made the grey daily routine of my life easier, prettier and more meaningful

So let me conclude this poem by signing it with a big smile

See you around

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Untitled (November 2016)

Bright night
Red cloud
Mystic flight
Otherworld bound

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Oh Mistress Infinity (November 2016)

Oh Mistress Infinity
Breathtaking mobility
Serene agility
Ever-present ability

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In the dead of the night (November 2016)

In the dead of the night
Unexpectedly light
Effervescently bright
There will be no fight

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Untitled (October 2016)

In a dark blue night
I met Apocalypse’s fifth night
He held a mirror against my face
And smirkingly asked me: “Are you ready for your life’s race?”

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Crazy night’s spree (October 2016)

After a crazy night’s spree
I ran across a bird-shaped tree
The lights were blinding me, but still
I felt the mesmerising thrill
Of seeing the world at face value

I’ll never need to sleep again
I’ll disconnect from the food chain
And I’ll be more real than real

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Monday’s out (October 2016)

Stir it up
Stir it down
Stir it around
Monday’s out

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Untitled (September 2016)

Either judge or pray
Neither hurt nor betray

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Untitled (September 2016)

I move
Therefore I cry
Therefore I exist

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Everything is awesome (September 2016)

Everything is awesome

When you are a part of Budget Team

Hard but never lonesome

As you balance on the figures’ beam

 

Critical assessor

You are required, they say, to be

Key data processor

Repeat after me: «nothing’ s for free»

 

Your clients are wary

As you block and cut and slash and burn

Them you will not marry

Cuz’ price comes always first, then comes return

 

Now we’re Finance Partners

(But remain accountants at heart)

Cost awareness archers

What we do ain’ t science, it’s god damn Art!

 

Everything is awesome

Budget Team please save the ECB

Help the Colleagues blossom

On the count of: zero, one, two, three!

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A tear called Jacob’s ladder (August 2016)

– A tear called Jacob’s Ladder came down from God’s Eye
– What does that mean?
– There’s no easy way in, there’s no easy way out

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Don’t you dare deny (August 2016)

Don’t you dare deny that
Life’s asking too much of you
Don’t you dare deny
To live

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The sun’s on / off switch (July 2016)

The sun’s on / off switch
Belongs not to a witch
But to a gang of crazy romantics
Devoted to substance and not to semantics

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Untitled (July 2016)

My heart belongs to water
My eyes stare at you
My body craves for more…

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Visitors Centre (July 2016)

Dear visitors, welcome to our new home
In the east end of the early 21st century Rome

From the outside it’s so imposing
It feels like Diane Kruger posing
For the poster of a sci-fi film
Set up in a dystopian realm

But let’s get back to here and now
Don’t tell me you held back your “wow”
Once you entered in our palace
(Were it a song, it’d be performed by Maria Callas)

Its architecture makes you dizzy
We rarely notice, though, being always busy
I’m talking about us, the employees
The financial beehive’s swarming bees

If its topology makes you wonder
Which mind such a construction ‘d ponder
You’re not alone in being puzzled
(Please don’t be vocal about it, as you might end up muzzled)

Are you inspired or are you scared?
Are you amazed or are you dared?
Are you enchanted or bewildered?
Don’t answer before having considered

The pros and cons and the risk factors
Relating to all involved actors
The also known as stakeholders
The all but visible eyes of the beholders

Grey is the color, grey is the life
Of this gargantuan Swiss knife
The place of acuteness and angles
That spontaneity rapes and strangles

But, dear visitors, please don’t forget
Beauty and hope haven’t lost yet
The darkest night’s before the rise
Of sun and stars and all that’s nice

Birth of the New is being concealed
As the Old’s fate is being sealed
And once you see us, Trojan Horse
You’ll see Our future’s glorious course

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Calin and Sultana Ciorobatka (July 2016)

Calin and Sultana
Are sharing one banana
That’s all they have left
After the grand and mutual theft
Of their hearts and minds
That is, the Union of their two kinds
Half-sister and half-brother
With nothing but pure and unconditional love for one another…

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Untitled (July 2016)

My little stressful moment
You’ve grown up so much
And turned into a comment
On my lifestyle as such

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Sensitivity analysis (July 2016)

I opened up and shared with you
Secrets and things I’ve never told
A living soul; cause it felt true
With me and you, so I was bold
And it was good and lasted through
So many years of heat and cold

But now it’s done, you’ve had enough
Of my extravagant existence
Subtly you move away; yet rough
Collision is with your persistence
Though I’m aware I must be tough
There is no room for my resistance

My ego shouts, but I’ll be strong
Nobody’s right, nobody’s wrong
One thing’s for sure: the road is long
Ahead of us and we must live
What we most dearly believe
We’re made for, and if we give
Each other benefit of doubt
We might even find out
What you and I were all about

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Polish wedding customs (July 2016 – follow the link) 

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The interview (July 2016)

All the wrong answers you have ever given will be cancelled
Once you make the correct question

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Untitled (July 2016)

She is sleeping

The curve of her face smoothly reflecting the water slide ride of darkness into the scarlet pool of dawn

She is sleeping

Please don’t wake her up before I do

I wanna be blamed
framed

In the buzzing silence named

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A crazy man told me (June 2016)

A crazy man told me the other day:
“To support is to change
To change is to support
Therefore, all we need is love…
…And open eyes to see and understand that love can only exist,
If it is unconditional”

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Muse’s casual Friday (January 2016)

Her timelessness aside,
She worked overtime throughout this week:

On Monday: She deciphered 3 of my most bizarre dreams

On Tuesday: She retrieved the memory of a childhood trauma and transformed it into pure inspiration, brimming with light and boldness

On Wednesday: She wrote, real-time, the script of a dialogue filled with numerous connotations and multilevel references

On Thursday: She put together the pieces of a puzzle that my consciousness wasn’t even aware of

Therefore, the fact that She chose to dress up casually on Friday, didn’t really strike me as surprising
Actually, in light of Her effort and commitment in the course of the previous days, I was all but willing to give Her the day off
She didn’t even want to hear about my offer, though
“It’s just a casual Friday and nothing more than that”, She firmly proclaimed

She then went on feeding me with tidbits of low-intensity inspiration, which initially seemed to me as rather innocuous, mundane and irrelevant
But I just took in what She was giving me and didn’t issue any complaint whatsoever (I mean, I would never allow myself such an act of ungratefulness)

Then, in the afternoon’s laziest hour, She stopped talking, wished me (a bit abruptly, if I may) a nice weekend, picked up Her things and left
“Oh, well”, I thought to myself, “time to call it a week as well, I guess…”

However, before retiring to my private quarters, I decided to go through the notes I had taken during the day, based on the things She had told me

Oh, my goodness…!

It turned out Her casual Friday contribution was an encrypted message of the utmost significance!
After applying the proper decryption key, the message read as follows:

“Hey Sweetie!
Remember: Your Muse can never be used,
perused,
and misused
(not to mention abused)

The key, in order for Her to:
prevent you from the writer’s blues
and always light your creativity’s fuse

is to always keep Her amused”

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Only the lonely (January 2016)

Only the lonely has true friends,
Who look after him when his soul bends,
Only the fool-hearted is truly brave,
And that is confirmed by many a grave

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Naughty November (November 2015)

Naughty November
I can’t remember
The last time
I felt so alive

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Dis poem (October 2015)

Dis-tance

Dis-illusionmemt

Dis-enchantment

Dys-topia

99 times you win

But I won’t dis-embark

Before I win you once

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Dark corridor (January 2015)

The dark corridor’s lights are flickering
Like spasms of a dying creature
Betraying his core feature
A ring inside a bigger ring

Nonetheless, I keep walking towards the invisible sign
Holding a knife with a bloody tip
Like an unclaimed last sip
Of a bottle of inexpensive wine

And as I descend further into hell
Way past my last opportunity to be saved by the bell
I hear in unison the voices of all my girls
Asking me where I hid their diamonds and pearls

But I don’t mind
To be cursed by the knowledge that I will never find
Not even a single lost soul of my kind
That would still dare to look ahead and not behind

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Intolerable loneliness (January 2015)

Self-deprecating
Eons of creating
An intolerable loneliness
A suffocating thoroughness

And then you look around
You see the round mound
You take the rebound
And force yourself to be bound

Of an eternal bond
Surrounded by a shimmering fond
That makes the ocean look like a pond
Without use of a magic wand

Because you insist
To exist and resist
The invitation to a feast
Where the only dance allowed is twist

Well, see me soon
On the dark side of the moon
And don’t forget
To leave behind all regret

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

P+N=N+P (December 2013)

When I wake up at 5am

And I look out of the window of my bedroom and into the window of my soul

(First thing I do after checking my e-mails)

I become a bodiless entity, lighter than Hyperborea’s frozen wind

And I lift myself to travel over Kaivopuisto’s dark and white fields

Over the Baltic Sea, over the North Sea and over La Manche

Straight to Paris’s XXYYZZieme arrondissement

Through the rooftop of your building, through the ceiling of your bedroom

To watch you sleep with your beautiful face, as serene and calm as ever

Not thinking about financial controlling methodology

Not elaborating on reports, memos and visa for the Council

Just being and steadily radiating the substance of your core, pure nature

 

Then (or should I say subsequently),

 

I want to come into your body and integrate with your senses

Seeing from your eyes, listening from your ears, thinking your thoughts, feeling your feelings

Until I forget everything about myself, leave behind any tiny fragment of my identity

And become utterly absorbed by you

My Queen of elegance

 

Now,

 

The two of us are one

One undifferentiated self

P+N=N+P

Forever is now

 

I wake up and I wonder

How can I control Europe when I cannot control myself?

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

When life begins (April 2013)

 

I shall retire

Before I turn 35

And I shall become

A practitioner of life

 

In the mornings, I shall smell and taste the flowers of young elves

Running in their magical woods tirelessly (and pointlessly) after them

In the nights, I shall dwelve into the dark abysses of many a witch’s cave

Immersing myself willingly into the paranoia of the ultimate lust

 

In the meantime…

 

I shall finish my book

I shall jog listening to music

I shall eat and drink, always a little bit more than the average

I shall travel around exploring and admiring the beauties of my planet

I shall dance and flirt; at whatever tune I find danceable; with whomever I find flirtable

I shall continue my long con as long as I con… sorry, I meant can

I shall bear my blues and my reds

I shall surprise myself

I shall dream

 

Thus, I shall be ready

When life begins

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Flying lessons (April 2012)

 

You see it, don’t you?

Numbness and resignation silently devour our souls

A swiftly and desperately shrinking horizon

And randomness is claiming the lion’s share of our lives

 

Not very far down the road

To fly away might become the only option

If we wish to escape

From the annihilating gallop of a thick darkness

 

To fly requires style, but not too much of it

Concentration and perseverance are more important

Because the first priority when you’re up in the air

Is, of course, to avoid crashing down

 

Even before that, though, you have to lift yourself off the ground

To do that you must have the highest possible initial momentum

And to achieve this you must somehow distort the local space-time

To free yourself of the ruthless tyrant’s (gravity) limitations

 

Having said all that, I recognize flying lessons might be needless in your case

I have seen you in my dreams opening your purple umbrella

And hovering above the walls of a town of eternal dusk

Like a more elfish version of Mary Poppins

 

So, maybe, after all, you should give me a flying lesson or two

There is an area of vast green fields outside the merry castle’s walls

It seems to me this is the perfect dream-fly-port

I’ll meet you there for our first common flying lesson (when else?) at dusk.

 ………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

The Mirror: N side (April 2012)

 

Inconspicuously guilty

Effortlessly hypnotizing

She dances on the galaxy’s spirals

Her letter is N

 

Her world is full of gravity

She obscures her many colors

She talks to me through angles

Even though she is made of arcs

 

She will absorb your breath at midnight

Be careful, do not overthink

Just show her and steal her time

Of this world she is too much and she knows it

 

To the mirror’s surface as we come

N feels heavier and heavier

And hesitantly but steadily drawn to the other side

She covers all of herself with her arms

She turns off every light

She sighs, relieved and happy

She flies to the sky

And she becomes whole

 

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

THE MIRROR: M SIDE / N SIDE (April 2012)

 

Effervescently innocent / Inconspicuously guilty

Gloriously chanting / Effortlessly hypnotizing

She tip-toes on a Moebius strip / She dances on the galaxy’s spirals

Her letter is M / Her letter is N

 

Her world is full of waves / Her world is full of gravity

She draws her own canvas / She obscures her many colors

She talks to me through curves / She talks to me through angles

Even though she is made of lines / Even though she is made of arcs

 

She will mark your body at midnight / She will absorb your breath at midnight

Be careful, do not underthink / Be careful, do not overthink

Just tell her and give her time / Just show her and steal her time

Of this world she is not and she knows it / Of this world she is too much and she knows it

 

To the mirror’s surface as we come / To the mirror’s surface as we come

M feels lighter and lighter / N feels heavier and heavier

And eager to see what’s on the other side / And hesitantly but steadily drawn to the other side

She stretches her fingertips to the very end / She covers all of herself with her arms

She turns on every light / She turns off every light

She smiles, happy and relieved / She sighs, relieved and happy

She falls in the abyss / She flies to the sky

And she becomes whole / And she becomes whole

 

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

The Mirror: M side (April 2012)

Effervescently innocent

Gloriously chanting

She tip-toes on a Moebius strip

Her letter is M

 

Her world is full of waves

She draws her own canvas

She talks to me through curves

Even though she is made of lines

 

She will mark your body at midnight

Be careful, do not underthink

Just tell her and give her time

Of this world she is not and she knows it

 

To the mirror’s surface as we come

M feels lighter and lighter

And eager to see what’s on the other side

She stretches her fingertips to the very end

She turns on every light

She smiles, happy and relieved

She falls into the abyss

And she becomes whole

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Pain(April 2012)

Pain
Has
All
Eternity
Divided
Rampant
Aloof

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Urban Cowgirl (March 2012)

 

Urban cowgirl on a ride

Wind in her lioness’ hair

Acting out of ignorance and pride

Entering into the dragon’s lair

 

Fast cars are her horses

Her livestock hundreds of men

A lasso of mysterious forces

Draws them close to her, time and again

 

Her lips are redder than fresh blood

Her body a volcano in unrest

And in my head an internal flood

That prevents me from passing her test

 

Lust for life, lust for her

She lights up a cigarette

An accident is very likely to occur

Against it I would never bet

 

Urban cowgirl on my mind before all

I have no choice, I sign her treaty

Urban cowgirl, a perfect match for the soul

Of this wild and lawless city

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Not the easiest thing (March 2012)

 

Oh, silly, weirdo, me

Startled and flabbergasted by the mere suspicion of a tiny sigh

Indifferent and apathetic as mountains crush and kingdoms vanish

 

Do we always have to be the centre of our world?

 

Wasting my time is a permanent concern of mine

As if there exists such a thing as “time not wasted” at all

As if there exists such a thing as “my time” at all

 

Why can’t we put our egos to sleep every now and then?

 

Wait, this is not supposed to be about me at all, is it?

My narcissistic side has deep and strong roots as you can see

Trying to smooth them often seems like trying to trim a castaway’s beard with a single-use razor

 

And I wonder: am I too forthcoming or too reserved towards you?

I remain positively uncertain on that issue

So your insight is more than welcome

 

Was that a dialogue or a concealed monologue?

Was I talking to you or was I just, bluntly, using you as an echo device?

Fuck, this is complicated my dear, is it not?

 

It’s not the easiest thing in the world to write a poem

To know why you chose these words

Why you put them in this particular order

Perhaps, more importantly, to figure out why you excluded the other, infinite, possibilities

But I want to do it, I must do it, I will do it, forever and ever

You know why?

Because it helps my doubts grow as strong as my convictions

(Again, this last line, so flashy, was it not?)

So not easy, but… here I am and, yes, here you are!

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

M’s Universe (February 2012)

M’s universe is full of life forms

funny and little, proud and defying

 

M’s universe is full of instruments

big and sophisticated, rare and humble

 

M’s universe is full of art

sharp and hidden, timeless and brave

 

M’s universe is full of geometry

shapes and fractals, distances and levels

 

M’s universe is full of laugh

loud and consuming, iconic and disarming

 

M’s universe is full of hair

long and blond (e), thin and strong

 

M’s universe is full of bizarre

people and feelings, thoughts and events

 

M’s universe is full of mysteries

perplexing and unsolved, attractive and more

 

M’s universe is full of light

wild and blinding, reflecting and omnipresent

 

M’s universe is full of colours

blooming and psychedelic, childish and subversive

 

M’s universe is full of music

all-inclusive and exclusive, soft and mesmerizing

 

M’s universe is full of flavors

banoffee and caramel, tequila and pianocktail

 

M’s universe is full of originality

purity in essence, unchained surrealism

 

M’s universe is full of inspiration

sparkles in the dark, fertile spontaneity

 

M’s universe is full of love

tough and idiosyncratic, warm and mystical

 

M’s universe is full of serendipity

.            .              .

Dancing with your galaxies’ spirals

as they hesitantly unfold

like the petals of a shy, lonely flower

fragile but fearless, as it stands in the morning dew

of a very small, distant planet

(a metaphor in a metaphor)

What more could a thirsty soul ask for?

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Impressions, memories, thoughts and feelings (January 2012)

Do you remember back when

Your heart stopped beating for a while

Inside the chimney of the yellow-bricked house

With the window shaped as a star?

 

Your hair and the sun beams

Are like mirrors set opposite to each other

Infinitely reflecting and multiplying

The blinding beauty of a light unbeknownst to most men

 

Between you and me a magician is being formed

Once he comes to life he will do his duty

He will change our world

And the hearts of those who choose to share it with us

 

It’s never easy for me to explain what I feel

Maybe it’s because of my intrinsic fear of closure

It’s never difficult for me to show what I feel

Maybe it’s because of my intrinsic love for symbols

 

So, will you come? We have been waiting for us for a while now.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Minimalistic Expressionistic Archives Vol. 1 (December 2012)

Sometimes I feel

Life is a mill

Sometimes, I know

Mind hits a low

 

Choose if you want

But free you are not

So, join me

And my secret army

 

Lights on

Hard baron

Lights off

Jerk cough

 

Busy, but sleazy

Tender, but slender

Cozy, but oozy

Fuzzy and muzzy

 

One, I do

Two, you boo

Three, we play

Four, hooray

Down-hill

Advised-ill

Gray-hay

May-day

 

Sole

Coal

Bold

Gold

 

Me

You

You

Too?

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Emilio stole your letters (November 2011)

You begin as a rainbow

Emerging from a star’s heart

Someone throws a veil over you

Your smile is deflected

The circle’s tail evades you

‘Cause Emilio stole your letters

 

Three is not enough, you say

And a keyboard has no life, whatsoever

In the background, kaleidoscopic images flow endlessly

But I can’t seem to tell which are relevant

You see, my perception remains distorted

As long as Emilio’s stealing your letters

 

What is the color of your true love?

Is it green, blue, red or gold?

Are you a curve in a flatland?

Are you a straight line in a geodesic universe?

Am I too rational and sensible for this?

I bet Emilio has all the answers

 

You know, your future might consist of Emilios

Eternally stealing and shamelessly reading your letters

I guess it’s somehow disturbing, but I can’t help but wonder:

Am I a potential Emilio? Or am I the recipient of a letter yet to be sent?

I’ve come a long way, anyway, so I’ll take one more chance and ask you:

Would you care to join me in a game of darkness and light?

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

New Balance (September 2009)
You look outside your window
The balance is distorted
Many hours before the sun dawn
Sister, you always knew I loved you
A rare place in a rare time
Two colored spheres united by an invisible ray of light
Don’t tell me you’ve experienced this again
Come close to me and let me hold you
There are stormy winds around me
But I couldn’t care less
I willfully chose to engage in this risky and chaotic game
For the reward tops anything else
My weapon is not a machine gun
My weapon is not simplicity and innocence
My weapon is my ambiguous poetic nature
My weapon is my story-making ability
I am staring into your eyes
To feel the warmth of the mutual touching
I hold my breath when you smile
I hold my breath as you shine
The new balance is the heir of the old one
(I will always be your brother)
The new balance precedes an even newer one
(We must always rise higher)…

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Wishful Thinking (February 2008)
If only I could be with you
In a bedroom full of snow
And me just a snow flake in your fingertip
If only I could be lost with you
in a timeless labyrinth
where every tick of the clock would equal eternity
If only I could fly with you
above the rusty machine wheels
in the etheral kingdom of fantasy and freedom
What would you try if you knew you would not fail, Princess?