My Head

It gets cold at night when I see a silent moon in the dark sky. I sit on the sofa and stare at the screen of my laptop.

I believe that there are angels that fly and horses that moan.
I believe that there are people who lie and times that are blown.
The grass is becoming brown as I speak and the zombies I see killing a frown.
The chimneys across rising and red and a dog feeling cold, just looking for some bread.
There are inequalities I believe and that is the way this reality shall function. Everything here is clockwork, everything - including emotion.
Structures are wrought as a mark of existence.
Battles are fought as a testament to human perseverance.
Perseverance it shall be called for humans are cyclical.
It is a sad truth but it as said for all is a typical.
A rhyme is set, for its function is to harmonize.
But nothing is as beautiful as a barren sheet of ice about to pulverized.
I retire tonight as I see the dark moon.
I see that a witch approaches the round globe too soon.
I see fire and heat as I sit in my cold bed.
I see smiles and love as I wait for her to stand in my stead.

BS

When is it that the flame shines bright?
I saw the sky the other day.
It was dark.
But there was a brilliance to the darkness.
Somebody was shining a light.
Somebody was quarreling the demons.
You shall not pass!! - roared Gandalf Greyhame.
A voice I heard.
It was just like the grey wizard's.
Shimmering robes and dirty smiles.

A flag was flying high.
The darkness of the sky seemed timid.
Alight! Alight! Alight!

There is confusion in the air.
People from the west move to the east.
People from the east move to the west.
Colliding.
Killing.
Burning.
I saw a hand.
I saw a naked hand lying idle on the ground.
This is where a battle was wrought.

Potatoes now grow.
Onions are gobbled.
The world wants to see the darkness lifted.
And lo.
There came Human #6901
Galloping on his mule.
He held a knife.
A butter knife it was.
And thrust it into the sky.
The world as was known, crumbled.
The top fell to the bottom.

Spaceships came now.
And conquered the fallen land.
And this was the origin of humans.
And this was what I saw just yesterday.
As I ate some home cooked food.
As I dreamt of my love.

Hope and Reason

This is the end.
For I can't take this anymore.
You believe you have a path.
No path lays there dear friend!
There is no end.
No water in sight.

All that you provide us, is hope.
And I am sure you know that.
You stopped believing in yourself too long ago.
There is nothing!

Feet come and feet go.
Voices are heard in hollow halls.
Mourning has been forgotten.
There is no triumph!
It is all a farce!

O - I see a light!!
I feel so nice now!!
Magic it is.
Nothing lays there.

People keep looking up.
People keep wondering where they walk.
What is it to which they walk?
Eventually we all tend to die.
Miseries just come by.

I see the fallen fossil.
I see the shoot from the green ground.
Nothing is real.
It seems to me that you do not have a real purpose.
It is a ride.

A ride that began when nobody was aware.
The ride shall end soon when nobody shall remain awake.
Zombies shall roam the streets.
Blood all around.
Perspiring naked beings.
As they walk back and forth and complain about how the world is a sad place.
The world is a sad place.
Nothing shall ever grow here.
Except for hope.

A War

A black cloud arrives over the sea.
It shrouds all that can't be seen.
Pods drop from the heavens.
Into the land of the mighty.
Nobody had dared yet to challenge these foul.
But out came the warriors.
Angels with swords - their ego, their shield.
They looked all around.
But nothing could be seen.
Was this the filthy land??
A mind sparked.
The ego need be thrown.
And lo!
The beings showed themselves.
Thunder was now heard.
Where all seemed at peace.

The messiah approached the beauties.
Bearing a warning on his dark forehead.
All is owned here.
You are not welcome.
Begone - and do not look back.
The forehead ceased to belong to that creature.
It lay strewn behind the angels.

A roar could now be heard.
The foul had been awakened.
The dirt under their feet shook.
The wind changed face as the roars grew louder.

The angels were calm.
They cared not for glory.
They cared not for victory.
They cared not for death.
All they wanted is to show the foul their faces.

The foul approached the glowing auras.
They shielded their eyes.
For they knew not this strange magic.
Glistening skin.
And brilliant eyes.

But the foul pushed forward.
And a one-sided battle it was.
In the end there stood only one angel.
She leapt up into the sky.
And bellowed from her bosom.

Who are you?

The foul perished.
The angels were resurrected.
The land had been freed.

The angels saw a light all around them.
At varying distances.
The sources were eyes.
Eyes of the fallen.
The fallen who were now smiling.
Rainbows all around.
For the eyes had tears.
The foul had been defeated.
The land was rid.

The angels fell down.
To the core of the land.
To power its progress.
Till time ceased.

Singing a song before my last breath

Where do I stand right now?
The great frozen desert of the south where all I can see flying by is the ice debris.
The great moments are those in which the wind stays still and the bright moon darkens the sky.
I struggle to move now.
I look in all possible directions and I do not see a single lifeform.

A thunder is struck and I tread ahead.
My stomach asks me for food, but I will it to remain at peace.
A few hours more and you shall meet your end without a doubt.
I had always thought I would never see this scene.
Had thought about it for far too long.


There are a multitude of things that are always wanted.
But it is difficult to attain all that is desired.
I think of the warm room.
I think of the incessant murmur broken by sudden thunder.
I think of the creamy risotto.
But most of all, I think of the whole bed.


I turn back to the white shades ahead.
My body is numb.
I feel no pain.
I fall down.
I know I am sinking.
But I do not have the will to struggle.
I could.
But I choose not to.

The thing that enters my mind now is her warn embrace and smell of her skin.
I had lived.

Analogies of a worn out mind.

Humans are usually dead, apart from the occasional spurts when they think.
I see a form looking over us and trying to poke us.
We are rats, you see.
All that is ever controlled is a belief.
A belief that we are superior.
More than 6 billion of such life forms and only a few are worth mentioning.
Only a few are remembered.
Now, how important is that?
A hell lot! - But not for the obvious reason - rather, for a hidden reason.
You remember Adolf right?
But the ones who really remember him - and those are the ones that matter - were the ones who were directly influenced by him.
And now comes the real noodle.
He dies when they die.
Most things are possible and only a few things are plausible - I wonder if you can decipher the analogy.
The rats are poked.
The rats mate.
They eat their food.
And they fight over their resting place.
They die in their sleep.

You see... the poker gassed them.
He was Adolf.

Now, do you see that guy?
He is Schindler.


Sometimes life if forgotten and people forget to oscillate.
At the ends they lie.
So far from the other that 'the other end' becomes a myth.
The ones who dare, swing too fast.
Or they snap at a certain time.
Only a few bring their own strings.

Fewer get their cameras.

Fewer still control their swing.

But the fewest - and these are the Unforgettables - break the glass by learning how to use the momentum.

Can you see the pool?
Can you jump into it with you cell phone in your pocket?
Call me if you can.
I still can't.