Get Away From Me
He has a speed of words, higher than the speed of sound
Everyone can benefit from it
Worldly things are silent
That is my life
Connected to respirator, low eyes
That is my life
African skinny boy.
Forest Of Question
The mystery underlying the earth
There are as many mysteries above you
He is asleep, waiting to be awakened.
Matryoshka - All Poems-Pray To Good
Pray to god
You are far from thoughts
And it is as close as thought takes action.
It has been raining continuously for two days,
On such days, as soon as I get back from work, I go to my room, smoke a few cigarettes and go to bed immediately. I neither find the strength to read a book nor the appetite to eat. I am not talking about sleeping, no, of going under the blanket and watching my thoughts for hours and those long dreams I had, impossible to come true. I am hungry but I cannot eat, I wonder but I cannot read, I just dream and think. Countries where we were not, impossible seas, impossible greens, and tales, stories and events that never existed anywhere, I imagine that I left this life for a moment, maybe even never existed in this life, I always live there, in the lands of my dreams. But the sounds of rain and wind, cars and people coming from the outside suddenly pull me out of my peaceful and happy land and throw me like a garbage into this despicable land where I am unhappy and unhappy, as if your place is not palaces, heavens, places of peace and happiness., four-walled dungeon with this blanket under which you lie! they say. Where you have to work, eat, drink, sleep, wake up even more painful, one day you must die, lonely, restless, bored, overwhelmed, this is the place you don't like! they say. This despicable place of wars, blood, sickness, pain, suffering, separation, rape, injustice and tears, you deserve! they say...
Maybe I'll make it like that... What is the fault of rain and wind?
What's wrong with the noises made by lifeless mechanical cars? I can't say the same about people, but they definitely have a fault!
I'm Sleeping Life.
I like to write poetry, but...
Sometimes my thoughts run away from me
Sometimes like a butterfly
They're on my shoulder, whispering in my ear