Tag Archives: art

A way to be

The morning light was yet demanding. There was a taste
in my mouth of something long gone. I did not know how
the story was supposed to go from now on, but the
morning light was demanding action. I really wanted to
refuse the world in those empty mornings but that was not
a way to be.
What amazed me was that nothing really mattered
anymore – failure or success, not even love. It had become
almost shameful to still be capable to love and fall in love in
those ugly days.
There is terrible ugliness in the world, but there is also
sublime beauty. Bottom line is, at least the world is
knowable. Sooner or later, closer to the hearth or at the end
of the earth, the world gets to everyone.

 

Oct 2017

 

 

 


right where

In any case, for me being published means being in excruciating pain and saying it out loud. Тhat is a form of bravery in my world. It was never about the possible popularity or the attention of my acquaintances, or the questions everyone would start to ask. It was about being able to communicate all the things that had happened, all the things that I am.

                  August 2015

 


Poetry collection

So, my first poetry collection is coming to life. This is for all the sufferings and calamities of personality that I have seen for my 20 years on our beloved Planet Earth.

It is available to purchase from Janus Publishing website, I attach the link below. I also want to thank endlessly Janus for the patience and help.

The collection will appear on amazon on the 24th of August 2015.

If you find my words compelling, let your attention stay fit. I am preparing a second collection in those unfair times of ours.

cover by Sophia Platts-Palmer

cover by Sophia Platts-Palmer

Black Words

(click)


The Grind Contribution

The Spirit of Revolt appears in Issue V of the amazing Grind. You can check it out here:

http://the-grind.co.uk/issuev

Issue V Poster

Issue V Poster

https://www.facebook.com/TheGrindJournal


No one’s ground

No one’s ground, no one’s fault. no one’s decision, no one’s mistake. It’s just the way the world spins and the sun rises. That’s just the way the waves roll and the birds sing. Only if there was someone to hear them, to see them. People occupied, preoccupied, reoccupied, too occupied with the world that is created for them, rather than embracing the world that is given to them. People make what’s given insignificant and keep on striving for achievements that wouldn’t even matter for the generations to come. They push all the natural to the neutral ground, leave it there to not be. And I can easily keep on sharping my words, but it would scarcely change anything. I can easily sharpen my thoughts but would you sharpen yours back?

                                                                                                                                April 2015


too

Too close to my skin. I’m falling in the borderline.

A fitting representation of two souls as one.

 


– – –

It’s truly a stasis.

Hold big thoughts and spend them on nothing.

The doors are closing now, run to the window.

I will await down to catch your spilled feelings.


Soul Disconnected

That’s not me who you see. That’s where I live. It’s not me who walks on those sidewalks, who goes up and down the stairs. It’s not me who crosses the street. It’s not me who looks at you. It’s what I look through. It’s where I live now. That’s where my eternity is put into boundaries. I’m in the `someday` and breathe through the `always`. I ramble. I gamble with the things my body does, so that I could stay here among you a little longer. Bodies are taught in dependence, whereas I had no teacher. I am the original sense, I am the authentic vibe. The common vibe. The one that goes between me and you, him and her, and then between all of us, and then….

I lost everything today and I haven’t felt more alive. In the endlessness. Fragment and defragment. You lose things in your touch with bodies. Something in the way I exist makes people feel doubtless. I got too close to what my body was doing and I got wounded by the mediocrity of the feelings it gets. Reason comes after, if it comes at all. I got lost in reason once. That’s when I start losing the vibe but it did not lose me. It came after me and got me by the hand, and then I smiled with a smile only closed eyes can see, and then I breathed again infinitely, and then…

I look at the wind and it reminds me what I am. I am ephemeral, I am eternal. I am here and I’m there. I’m too young in time to care. I only know how to dare cross all the lines they draw, and all the fields, all the mountains, all the seas and then…

I see the size of colours

The scope of the vibe.

And then….

The great escape.

November 2014


The effeteness

These little black dots just came out of their oblivion. They try to form themselves again on the other side. I like that try, I like that someday in which it all be worthy. But the message will never arrive, the birds dropped it in the ocean of forgetfulness. The idea is gone. But look at the people. Ever since you can see you look at them. But see them. Feel them. They don’t want what they got, but they also don’t want what we have in mind to give them. It’s only a silence of actions. You can’t live in a corrupt society and be still. You can only dance. It’s a representation of a thought that sometimes arrives more than late. And you dance. You dance on the sound of screams and in the background are their horrified faces. You can’t deny what lives inside your voice. You cannot escape what wants to live through your voice. And they don’t have a clue. You hold the clue on every step of your dance. But the ground beneath you cracks because of the power of their voices and the horror. And I don’t like what they do to you. I don’t like the trend. They are only there to breed guilt in your mind. This city is the pearly elitism of our fleeting time here. If we walk ourselves out of the economic system, the birds will still be flying, but the voices will still be heard too. We cannot wash away entire lifetimes. You cannot search for the message in the ocean that’s not yours. Unfair, we are not where we want to stand tonight. Unfairly, we are too close to the ground to stand up so easily. It’s just sad. Because people can be bad in so much more aspects than those in which they allow themselves to be good. That’s why they keep falling. Like leaves. But we cannot keep them from falling on the ground. No one is strong enough to fight the inevitable.

November 2014

 


simply

Comfort is the feature of the closed mind.

A voice it is, they say.

It is not even a whisper anymore, if you ask me.

My mind is gambling with `yes` and `no`.

Oh, what a performance of doubt.

Simply, there are people who are worthy to suffer for. But don’t take the short cut, never take the short cut.

There’s where the story stays.

August 2014