h1

A nap, you say?

October 23, 2014

seagull(s)

h1

Patience and defiance

October 20, 2014

cannon(s)

h1

The wait

October 19, 2014

bomar(s)

h1

Silent…

October 6, 2014

silent

h1

Antidote

October 5, 2014

Antidote

h1

Windowsill angel

September 22, 2014

My grandfather was the best at bedtime stories. He never cared for red riding hoods or sleeping beauties. His stories were mixtures of local legends, his WWII memories and vivid imagination he possessed. The story of windowsill angel was the one to calm me down by drawing my attention to motionless view outside that would eventually make me fall asleep.

Writing this piece was difficult, I couldn’t focus at all. Suddenly I realised It was time to begin the search for HIM.

 

Windowsill angel

Though you’re knackered
give him five more minutes
Make a tiny hole in the curtain
and if your heart is corrupted enough
– He’ll show up

Even moths are powerless
against his energetic stickiness
The holy man
seeking followers
of his barefoot atonement
One hand bears a tomahawk
aimed at your forehead
The other – tightens the knot
around his swollen neck
leaving the fun part
at your service

There’s cause and effect
Which you’d figured already
The fear of splinters
makes you befriend needles

Do I really have to die on you, dream?

~no kind of magic~

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Dot com

September 17, 2014

Imagine you read a book. There is no world outside the pages your eyes devour. There are no days, no nights, a cup of coffee on your table does not even remember it was hot long ago, long before the reign of ink and paper that put you in this sweet prison. Time goes by and suddenly, without a warning (yet you knew that was inevitable) your fingers tell you ‘slow down, there is not much left!’. You are ready to shed a tear for the last punctuation mark. Something will end, but will it mean another beginning?

This is pretty much how I feel at the moment. I looked at the page count in the opened document, an old notebook before me is almost full. My third collection of poems is almost finished. The first one was born to help me cope with some old demons refusing to give in to my rationalism. Another, the very one I’ve been sharing with you for quite some time now, was supposed to be a confirmation of the path I’d chosen, and to validate it’s predecessor. I remember that day when I started a new chapter, 18th November 2013. A day of disappointment and hope jumping off the cliff. And then, ‘hyperballad-ly'(*) inspired, I thought ‘were my hope’s eyes closed or open?’. Since November, I’ve explored the uncharted, eclipsed part of my mind, I hope my writings from that period will manage to shed some light on that journey.

Something will end soon, which is why I started preparing foundations for the new beginning. If you’ve been visiting me for some time now, you must have noticed the new design of my page, as well as shorter domain (hopefully more changes to follow). I’ve added the list of inspirational blogs I follow, I would also like thank you all one more time for being with me and for being a reason I did not give up. And speaking of the reason – that was the title of my first post here, on wordpress. I guess it’s the right time to post one poem again.

 
Why I write

Dear George,

For now I’d like to believe
losing the core cotton
would be less humiliating
than you finding out my scenic route
paved with clipped toenails

Abnormally I would drive through
guerilla memories zone
long after the curfew
hoping to smear one or two
on the front bumper

Driven by the void
Void one shall find

Ha!
They’re not mine anymore

I am the disabled Geiger
drooling
as I dance on
not anymore-to-not yet scale

Uncertainty is the bitch-slap
shaking last year’s branches off
the nest self-carved with
bottom and whisper

What do you say?
(*) oh, where would I be without Bjork…

h1

Now that we’re all here

September 16, 2014

now that we're all here

h1

When you see a wall

August 22, 2014

wall(s)

h1

Bell, anyone?

August 17, 2014

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