to hope

photo by me - sibiu

better

to hope than no dreaming

Utopian lines to be drawn instead of an empty page

to be blinded by the light than crush in slithered darkness

thunderous singing while silence is watching

a small boat on a ravishing storm than a wreck in paradise

running without breath in-front of statues

be-soiled in the gutter of the world than clean in still palace

the finder of Pandora's box.

better

to hope.

we have all the time in the world

"We have all the time in the world

Time enough for life

To unfold

All the prescious things

Love has in store"

                         Louis Armstrong

bring it on Mr. trumpeter,

tell it to the world...

give us a smile, as you so often do,

look to us gently and wise

and

sing us some more...

you've seen it

in your soft wonderings

and put it in your docil tone,

the wonder of the world

so please be gentle one more try

of your established kindness

'cause there's so much you still need to teach us

of beeing good

and of the good.

you do tell it so well,

n'est pas?

c'est si bon...

awkward monologue

photo by me - the blue staircase in sibiu

you should have told me about today,

that i would meet you.

i should have been prepared...

now i have to mumble among words

only to tell you my name,

simple as it is,

rather than how you can make me feel

if anything should happen

between us.

i'm not so good at monologues,

and even worse at dialogging,

but that

your really had to expect.

words, sometimes,

are like drops of oil in boiling water,

they don't seem to fit me.

it would be best to just look me in the eyes

maybe something there can be found.

or you just might listen to my voice,

forget the words and their logic,

care only for the tone and fondness of my voice.

might work.

you might get a glimpse of me,

broken apart of what i'm saying.

care nothing for my words,

they only deceive, bounded inside letters,

stuck in the surprise of meeting you.

really should have told me about today,

about facing you.

i should have been prepared...

i've waited for this

only

all of my life.

the comeback

oh, lethal muse, do come back!
kind enough to rejoin my soul
for things that have been waiting
to get done.


sometimes harsh yet sometimes a lover,
my to-die-for muse,
light your candle again
for my eyes to see.


i hear neither wind nor music
without you
not able and not willing
without my spirit filled-up with thy shine. 


these are my last words
that i can barely draw out from within.
my last breath, 
my last thought 
and 
my last feeling
are meant for you, 
my lethal muse...

waltz opus no.3 (friendly)

one step, two steps
so humble am I to have met you, my dear
so truly grateful and so truly glad


one step, two steps
i think i know you from a time before
i guess we sat at the same table
and you gave me wine and a piece of bread
along with your grace and kindness


one step, two steps
you told me about the sea
showed me the sky
sang me a tune of the old sailors
and gave me your coat not to be cold


one step, two steps
i never saw you again till now
so many lives have passed
so many dears for you
and then again for I

one step, two steps
now, let me buy you a drink
for old times' sake
if you're hungry, i'll you get a piece of bread
and
when the final hour comes
we'll sing old sailors songs...

one step, two steps
we'll sing till the rising of the sun
yours truly dear friend

waltz opus no.2 (the waltz of words)

Wosene Worke Kosrof - The Color of Words IX

we dance with words

one to another,

only that-another to just understand what we meant.

this extinct battle to be understood.

this voyage from feeling 

to finding the definition of that specific tone or choice

that is so particularly "us".

bounded with letters and rules of grammar.

under the obligation to resume yourself within thirty lines or more,

depending of the time allowed or the page size you are granted.

how hard was for the first man to speak?

what was his first word?

why from that moment on we've stuck boundaries upon boundaries

along with each word created?

...but how else can you be understood?...

how else can you "say" what you want, think or feel?

how else can we tell someone we love or hate him?

how else can you say you've missed him or that you're glad?

my dear words,

we've invented you for so long

to be able to bring to life

only a crumb of what's inside of us...

but what would we be without you?

so again,

day by day,

we dance with you, my dear words,

only one day to be able to tell everything...

till then, let's dance!

waltz opus no.1 (the frost waltz)

polar-bear waltz by outside magazine

i'll take you to the north 

while you sleep,

gently with your dreams,

i'll take you to the cold of earth

and by the grace of crisp

music will emerge

for us to waltz...

you queen of ice

me frost of winds

swinging our way

into the mist

time will arrest for us

all kept safely in my hour-glass

and fairies gonna light our ring

chinese-lanterns of the dusk

i will take you to the north

where's no age and wrinkles 

for the snow to comb you a dress

and the bleak air to mantle your shoes

for all time to dance

you, me and the waltz

clubbed to death

clubbed to death by angels
i wish to be. just to be born again
from a wave of fire and stone
skin hard for no pain as my soul
eyes to see all as my heart
re-born from this madness only to live truly by the word.

someone asked me the other day
what the word is?
i smiled in complete silence...
he didn't understand.

i would like to club him to death along with angels
only to be born again.
waves of fire and stone
to harden his skin and soul
eyes to see everything with his heart
this madness gets to be so you could live truly by the word.

drops (lyrics meant for a song)

roger mclassus - drop-impact

like a drop of water

falling down from the sky

so much freedom surrounding

i will fly, i will fly

like drop of red wine

staining your white gown

i'm so stuck with you

the world around, world around

like a drop of tears

dribbling from your eyes

i will lay on you

soft and wise, soft and wise

like a drop of gas

leaking from a pipe

all the world i'll burn

for you and i, you and i

like a drop in time

so hidden, so shy

no-one is to know

what future lies, future lies

like a drop of water

falling down from the sky

i will take you with me

for a while, for a while

the road

henri cartier-bresson - en brie

the road seems long from here.

a large view,

no concern and no regard of what ever can be found at the end,

if there is any...

i start to stride it, one big step after another, 

confident of my anatomy and my biological device of walking,

foot in front foot, over and over again,

clock-finished mechanism of footsteps carrying myself forward.

i wait for nothing,

there's only ahead 

and what i've left behind counts no more.

i stare from time to time on both sides

trying to catch a glimpse of scenery just to clear and refresh my retina. 

i wait for nothing

and

nothing waits for me,

not even the road. 

it just is.

i'm just walking it.

there are so many wonders where i'm going...

plenty of marvels to be seen,

miracles to live.

they will all just be happening

and

i will just be there

enjoying.

thank you for the road.

thanks for tramping it.

hope i'll do well

step by step

on the road...

it's summer

vincent van gogh - sunflowers

in summer you should not be sad. it's too sunny or too bright - the choice of words it's up to you, but remember, anyway you put it, it is still summer - so no sadness.

you can run a hill or a field

you can sit a park-bench or a porch 

you can sing a song or just whistle

you can draw some meaningless lines or a portrait

you can read a book or a thrown-out paper

you can sip a lemonade with lots of sugar or plain cold water

you can bite an apple or get bitten by a small hot dog

you can comb someone's long wet hair till is dry

or just bathe that someone again with a hose

you can fall asleep in the grass or tuck yourself in the chilly bed clothes

you can speak loudly or just whisper some love statement

you can stare at the sun when is setting or wait for the sunrise all night long

you can drink a bottle of beer without breathing or get thirsty an entire afternoon

you can dream with your eyes opened and sleep like a rock

you can be silent for a week or just say hello and goodbye 

you can make love to the sea or just get a tan

you can travel or stay still

you can all of that and more but you don't have to anything

because it's summer.

and in summer you must never be sad. it's too sunny and sometimes too bright. and it would be a waste of your summer... how many do you think can be wasted? in my opinion, none.

ENOUGH!

enough

searching for love amidst the powder of money and the material!

enough

preaching all will be well but not believing in it for only one moment!

enough 

caving in so easily and not remembering what i have and can do!

enough

living lies or memories, waiting for the past to become present again!

enough

fooling myself because of the smalls in the world, forgetting to look beyond!

enough

keeping dreams as real living and leaving life aside!

enough

making so damn fun of myself only to smile that even my laugh gets tired!

enough

jerking around! there is so much beauty and so little time to disclose it.

enough

with lonely night and the asylum in my solitude!

enough

being mean just because kind is a step further too much!

enough

with the jokes that tear life apart! so fragile it is and so meant to be cherished.

enough

with the deaf! we speak therefore we might as well hear.

enough

with the blind! we still have eyes to see.

enough

with all that should have been enough till now!

enough

saying "enough" for so many times 

but not once with indisputable meaning!

help me God, 

Universe or 

All forth and inwards ,

this to be my final and last "enough"! 

so there it is:

ENOUGH!

language & hearing

in other language

i easily find the words

to define myself.

i'm too used to think with the voice i was born in

accustomed with the same topic and sense

tired of all the meaning i can make.

and i'm not afraid of making mistakes using different words than my own

not scared of being misunderstood or taken for granted 

hoping of some new ideas that will pop out even if i don't think them.

i'm free in these new vocabulary. no boundaries

to report to or to be stuck in. just feelings

drawn in this fresh lines letters reveal to me.

i cannot relate to anyone but myself with my maiden voice.

i can ask no advice nor older council, newborn

inwards and forth my own universe.

hear me out!

if there is anyone else speaking the same tongue.

be kind and listen to me, decent to reply.

i'm all words and ears

hearing as clear as ever

speaking for the first time.

in me is you

in this particularly sad lonely time

when i think of you

you blend the faces of all

features i remember 

or not

the ones i loved one day

and

ones i have imagined.

in this particularly sad lonely

you bear all the names into a single one

your name

i've always feared and adored

the name i tend to whisper when i get to bed

after a long sleepless night. 

in this particularly sad

i distress into a smile of happiness

never knowing how to find you

or where to look

and

even if my looks are good for you.

in this particular

i imagine you

hidden

into the canvas of my life

as i still know how to paint it. 

in this

i invent you

stuck between these words

waiting to get out.

be free!

in

me

is

you. 

old photo by me

take care

painting by me

take care, my love,

for all the glances from me to you in soft dark corners of our bed

for all the times you were afraid and i did laugh 

because nothing could have happened while i was still there

for all the sighs i've heard watching you sleep

for all the betimes moments i coated your feet not to catch cold

for all your expectations story-told to me in perfect midnight silence

for all the sunshines of the sunrise

and all the stars hung hard-by the moon

for all the days to come and hopes of days to be

for all the days past and memories bygone

for my sake at least if that matters

or for the sake of our child in that gentle dreaming time we had

for all the voices in the world just so you can hear me!

take care, my love,

good care of you...

elements

i wish to make a drop of water

to bathe in.

sank inside there will be only silence.

maybe this way i'll be able to hear the world

to acknowledge it.

who knows, maybe i'll even hear someone calling me

(in my drop of water i will understand her voice).

i wish to make a breeze of wind

to waft along.

scavenged aside blowing there will be only music.

maybe this way i'll be able to dance the world

to enjoy it.

who knows, maybe i'll even hear someone sing for me

(along with my wind i will understand her words).

i wish to make a grain of earth

to dig myself in.

buried inside there will be only space

to feel it.

who knows, maybe i'll even touch someone's skin

(within my earth i will understand her body).

scared to be burnt no more

i will make a flame of fire

to shove it in my soul.

blazing inside out there will be only life.

this way i'll be able to live

fully.

i know i'll find someone to live with me

(both of us burning will understand).

navigating the WEB

jackson pollock - number 1 (lavender mist)

the spider wondered along the thin fragile web

hoping to find

a frightened captive fly

just to have a chat with.

this immense void the web incarnated

boggled him also.

he felt alone,

all day sewing his web strings,

no one to talk to,

no one to ask for an opinion or advice,

no one to share his web with.

and the web,

this overwhelming web,

kept growing

day by day. 

none to find at any end of any thread

the days went by.

in the morning

he takes his coffee

around the north-western corner,

watching the sun blazing up the sky.

he feels relaxed.

at that time you need nobody to talk to,

too early for words or even glimpses.

at brunch

he strolls along the south.

it's warmer there around eleven.

besides, 

you can listen to a Parus Caeruleus 

wondering by that time of day.

it's cozy.

at noon

lunch is best in the west.

a John Wayne feeling overwhelms you.

the five o'clock tea

is yet the best to be

pendulous to a branch

along the northern tree.

and so

at dinner,

the last meal of the day,

accustomed to be lonely,

he creeps unmissed

in a corner to the east.

he can't stand losing

the following morning sunset.

'cause that may be

his only friend.

laying low he falls asleep

waiting.

never gonna give up

phone photo by me

never gonna give up smoking

(or should i?)

and dreaming by the way...

never gonna give up making bad jokes 

in inappropriate moments

(not my fault actually, i'm made this way)

and laugh at all life saves for me

never gonna give up drinking tea

(nor coffee for that matter)

and enjoying each warm embrace

never gonna give up talking 'bout myself

(my selfish self-seeking person)

and listen to all the stories around me

never gonna give up kissing in the morning

(though any time is good for kissing)

and staying late in the night watching you sleep

never gonna give up wanting love

(cause hate i'm full of it)

and making love,

or at least trying to,

as much as i can

never gonna give up smoking

(that's for sure)

and i know i want so much...

i want a long lasting life

for the fun of it!

melancholy

albrecht durer - melencolia 1, 1514

sometimes i cry

cast away within me

saying no words to anybody

just whispers to myself

which i don't want to hear no more

so many words i've said to me

that i know myself no more

can't recognize my eyes crying

can't recognize my voice hidden in whispers

can't recognize my language in so many words

and

nobody knows

just me

when sometimes

i do allow myself

to cry.