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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

They’re not mine anymore

I am the disabled Geiger
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…


Now that we’re all here

September 16, 2014

now that we're all here


When you see a wall

August 22, 2014



Bell, anyone?

August 17, 2014



August 15, 2014

You kept your eyes opened
when you kissed me
and I feel obliged to give you credit
You locals are good at skewering hearts
without involving deities
I didn’t even need that book
you’d recommended
to grasp the most obvious interpretation
Mustn’t forget your name
Mustn’t ignore the threat
Call me paranoid
but some of them might still be watching
You say I kept my eyes shut
when you kissed me
to think of another
Somewhat true

Another one to kiss you better


Sweet rush

August 1, 2014

sweet rush


Why don’t we hit the town?

July 29, 2014

five, six, seven, eight

Tell me, what’s keeping you awake
and I mean names
Heads up in five

The plane won’t take off
too many strings attached
hence – crash landing in Polynesia
and a pot-fuelled human caterpillar

The sky’s grey and clouds nest themselves
on my eyelids

Don’t provoke that black Volkswagen, mom
it’s cramped with bald heads
and wooden arguments

St. Luke’s undressed now

Blanks and letters I forgot to organise
for the Bible says: he who fails to submit
shall bring doomsday on his kind

I’ve put on weight again
There’s something in the air
How about I stop breathing?

Zero hour. One more look
at the city at night
never safe

I stopped punching my thigh
Blood circulation restored
Brain damage unknown
Sure, I’ll have another day, then



What would you say?

July 23, 2014

There’s no open bar tonight
for my tears won’t stand trespassing
There will be no contact deeper
than a casual handshake with a
pure wailing talent
whose thoughts are about to
drill a hole in lighter’s pocket
at exactly two PM

And thoughts of final reunion
shall leave with the last
drop of whisky
undergoing long live maintenance
– The process helping me get closer to you

so root me back, Grace




Lead me to the chamber where my love she lies in

July 11, 2014

My lady
And here’s my soul with silver trimming
and a barrel of red wine
to celebrate those who value
knees over hearts
For I cannot think of
any other view to please
your famished iron eyes
while mine – under siege of sand
hope the dead will cry with me
A hangman, you see
seeks no god there
but freedom to look inside himself



June 26, 2014

I like to believe
this looking glass has been
hand-made in Venice
Precisely 15.5 inches
and framed with adhesive material
in case of unintentional attempt
to drown

Yesterday I saw that look
you gave me
I might as well be
get-one-free shrimp
twisting your stomach

Flat and fading
Talent is sugar free
putting one’s kidneys
to sleep

And I’m not asking you to tell me something
I don’t know
since it’s
what I know
that’s causing the whole mess

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