The perfect space

Sits quietly and waits
In lieu of wondering about
Un-drifts itself from ups and downs
Prolongs the day without a doubt.

Invites attendants to the smoothest show
Un-compromised by feelings, looks or story's flow
Desire free, no second thought nor grow
.. mostly simple and un-hinged blow.

The perfect space hides deep inside somewhere
It'd hover not be low enough
Linger by itself..
Not open not closed, colourless
Impenetrable by our ego..
Or our hands..
Or minds.

It is perfect in this form
Or shape..
Unforgettable by all means
Of understanding..
Could've easily been missed
Nor found
Afaik that special link,

Which got me thinking.



It's gonna be a blast 
I'm about to pump some air 
Forces unhinged must throttle aghast 
Rise muscles of iron and fists of flair.
Almost a gang inception 
My internal organs rebel all forgotten 
Outside a mantle of muscle armor feeding on action 
Maybe in a stretched second, but if not in a dozen.
Committed like Bull was I in my mind 
Stretched on the sand all limbs out and inert
Stories succumbed.. went still, my eyes blind 
Imagination eager to stroll whilst my body is all but desert.


Was it always this empty?
Was it always a mess!
This forgotten conundrum,
Devoid of life.. Sparkle. Degress!
Were we ever so numb!
Dumb struck by life's mess?
Ignoring pain floating inside,
Succumbing to empty.. Grey. Less!
Another breath survives alright
A glimpse of blue across the sky
Me thinks of food.. A glass of wine
She says hello.. I say good bye.


Eating an apple

Thoughts immersed in limbo
Starring blindly through the window
Trees moving, chasing the road behind,
Empty glaze upfronts my mind
Goals, unrefined.

Barrows driven through umbrellas
Wearing thinning dusty skins
Mirrors thirst, reflecting blackness
Nothing else apart from glee
Other than this sea
Right above me.

Shouldn’t matter if velvet breaks the ice..
Of our frozen souls, twice
In and out of glaring sorrow
No remorse tomorrow
Or tonight.



(‘Umbra’ by Ana Blandiana, she is a Romanian poet, essayist and political figure, born in 1942; this is my interpretation from original)

Who is walking ahead
Without looking back
Has forgot about him behind;
Who runs
Is of being afraid
To not be reached
By himself;
He who doesn’t share a target
Is scared
To not find there
He himself,
As if his shadow
Wouldn’t be just the pond of black
Dropping from our open veins
Because of our desire to progress…

Conquer me!

Conquer myself..
Truth untold
Broken promise
False desire
Empty fire.

Conquer myself..
Truth untold
Hollow passion
No devotion
Dishonest inclination.

Conquer myself..
Truth untold
Lusty predilection
Zero fascination
Lots infatuation.

Conquer myself..
Truth untold
Yes concupiscence
Great revenousness
Relish cavetousness.

Conquer yourself!

A fountain

(‘Era o fantana’ by Elena Farago, she was a Romanian poet, 1878 – 1954; this is my interpretation from original, certain words were misspelled to pertain the atmosphere)


On a long, stern and barren highway,
Like all the world-s highways.
On a long, stern and barren highway,
A fountain and it-s sweep astray.
As water-s builds up on it-s overway,
In mantles, skins of clays.
A fountain and it-s sweep astray,
Like all the life-s fountains.
A fountain and it-s sweep astray,
Water damp dirty and sly.
And the fork would handingly pry,
Decoying from afar passerbys.
Thirstyes rushed for water-s sway,
Like all thirstyes in life.
Pulling forcingly the sweep in dismay
But the damp water would shush-em away.
And often a youngster would just offlay
With tears on his face.
And often an elderly laughed his way
Like an-all too known: WATER-S LIFE.
A fountain and it-s sweep astray,
Water damp dirty and sly.
And the fork would handingly pry,
Decoying from afar passerbys.