Tag Archives: writing

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

 

 

 


On Truth

It is like an arena theatre – where everyone can see everything from all sides. We just close our eyes to what others have in mind. It’s easier. And we put it all on the side, for later. Like the leftovers of your dinner that you ask the waiter to pack you for home. And then you go home, and put it in the fridge, and forget that it’s there because you are eating in a different restaurant the next day. And you find the leftovers months later, when they are already rotten, and you throw them in the bin, because you are disgusted by the look and smell. That is the truth. That’s what we do to the truth. And even if you are not doing so, it wouldn’t matter. Even if you take the truth and hug it, and kiss it goodnight every night, it wouldn’t matter. It would kill you. It would take out its little dagger and scratch pieces out of your face every night when you are asleep until one day you wake up and you just don’t look the same anymore. Because you’ve accepted too much.

July 2016


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


In any case

It’s not really about the ground or the neutral state of consciousness of the mob. In any case many people spend most of their lives thinking about nothing in particular and talking about the same. Many people spend most of their lives imitating love and ignoring the same. Trading love for attention or need and chasing away the same. Care and attention wear the mask of love just like beauty wears the mask of wreck. Love is above. Don’t dirty it with casual words, or imitated feelings and actions. Love is above, don’t lower it to complications. Love is simple.

He, in particular, was always talking about some truths that I had not yet discovered, about some things that it would take me months to realize. Sometimes I was thinking that even he didn’t realize what was he doing. It was just so natural for him to spread truth around.

He, particularly, designed his words with the purest of fire. No matter right or wrong, they were pure. My poetry started loosing its meaning and that was a perfect sign for me of my existential collapse. He could not be compared to anything I ever needed to beware. I was ready to give him every piece of my share, just wanted him to meet me there – where every sound was heard loudly and every word spoken bravely.

I tried evoking love to come to him. He was empty though. Empty but not in the ordinary sense of emptiness. He was empty like a hollow guitar that resonated every sound, he resonated every truth, every sense. So I became part of him, of his insights. Wholeness. Now, we just needed to entail love in that space of ours.

He was empty in another sense as well. He was emptied. Emptied by people who didn’t talk about anything in particular, by people who took words for granted, by people who used actions as weapons, and not as representation of feelings.

I was mad at that, furious at those people. I wanted his hollowness to be filled with the sounds of love.

April 2015


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


accidentally chosen

He was like water to me – clear and transparent. I could drink him up in a breath but I didn’t want to. It wasn’t cool. He didn’t deserve to be forgotten so easily afterwards. Nonetheless, it is an interesting world that we are living in – everyone is trying to close their eyes and absolve their sins. But it takes more, so much more.

March 2013


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

 


the land

How many times I’ll have to break myself before my pieces are all gone…You should make up your mind now, because my attitude towards your indecision will end up in an unpleasant way. My words stay silent sometimes, my pen, though, won’t spare you what you deserve. What troubles you you deal with by noon and then you are ready to mess it all up again. Fast and firm. All this is getting tense but it’s not starting to make sense

to you.

I’d probably prefer the little loveless at the end. Never mind all the troubles that he caused.

Sometimes in a far-away land,

we encounter close-to-us people.

Sometimes in them,

we find out needed freedom.

 

 

 


vs.

The one who doubts in love is cursed to fail in life. No one knows this more than most of all. But I’d rather have a soul on my own. Tomorrow we’ll decide. Tomorrow is better than never, right? What do you say? I will always need my own place to bleed, you said you need to slow down the speed, of your life..what a strife!

Since I’ve been your number two and you’ve been my second choice, we fly on the clouds of our bitter oblivion.

 


D-Day

What common sense?! We break everything up to love and hate. And I miss him in and out of every dream and he cannot even sit silent, he only screams. For our minds have never been clearer. I could never have anyone dearer.

Than you.

But I was facing the future with my back when I came here. And I stumbled on my heart just to fall right where I needed to be, far away from my past misery.

James Flames

by James Flames