I write poems, because I need to - it is the way I process my life experiences and make sense of the world. My poetry is very personal and intimate. So, there are very few people, who know, that I write. It is a very big deal for me to publish something, I feel exposed.
There was that one butterfly I know, who
By the flap of her wing caused a hurricane
I can see that is a well known fact-
Although it sounds insane.
That butterfly had no sense of tact
So she bathed naked in the rain.
She danced flamenco in the storm
And watched in awe the clouds form
That was her norm.
she freeze she sneeze she increase
she slow down
she move and she stuck
up high on the ground.
She accepted the unacceptable
So perfected, yet unaffected
She inspected the forbidden
Uncovered the hidden
But when the stars were shining
And the weather was good
She felt very idle
Eating slowly fast food.
During the storm
She felt completely alive
Beyond the instinct to survive.
How can I enjoy this moment, when it is not meant to last?
How can I keep this happy feeling for myself
If it shall pass...
And memories of it will cut my soul with sharp edges of broken diamonds?
Time is fleeting and defeating the best in us,
There is no dignity in the old age,
We're all like actors thrown off the stage.
You are defeatist.
Rationalizing fear and sins,
Ready to drown anyone who wins.
A healthy doze of anger and the knowledge of inevitable death
- makes me count every breath i take,every move I make.
I want to gain control in this chaotic world,
your hair is gold and your eyes color of mold
wake the animal in me.
I don't want to be free,
I want to grow my roots like a tree.
I will freeze my branches with cold white snow,
killing leafs before they start to grow.
There is nothing to fear,
if you see things clear.
I am too alive, too human, too insane.
I see beauty in my insanity,
value in my suffering,
answers in my pain.
What do you want?
I want the impossible,
I want the invisible,
I want magic.
You are like a cat
trying to catch the sun's reflection
on the kitchen floor,
wishing there was something more.
M L K
People shooting people on MLK
The god-forsaken place where nothing is ok.
You walking down the street minding your own business,
And all of a sudden someone says “hey”
They are asking for a smoke and telling you they got HIV,
Therefore you got to give them a cigarette for free,
After a moment of silence and couple of smokes,
They start telling you stories and jokes,
How they learned to roll joints while in jail,
How they could have had a life, but failed...
And all of a sudden they'd get quite and remember:
That their friend died three days ago of DMT overdose,
Drowned in a puddle on the ground, with his face down,
Nearby his own house found,
How his wife is crying non-stop, has to go on meds
But too late, he is dead.
And yet another guy perma tripping on acid
He thought he'd dream big, he'd live lucid,
Go to heaven, meet angels and become enlightened
Buying into New Age talk from people who are vicious and frightened
Trippin hard at that moment he couldn't tell
Liquid acid from the regular eye drops
And it didn't go well.
Occupy Sarasota, conspiracies and chess
Political talk, no money and stress,
Unhealthy people more or less.
One guy with a nose, dirty hairy head mess
Wearing a black baggy robe dress
Sleeping on a chair,
He knows that life can be unfair,
Like an endless tunnel of a darkest nightmare,
While awake he talks to himself
Like some forest elf,
When addressing people he makes no sense
And offers to tell you something off his chest
A burden he can't handle,
Another woman with no front tooth,
Old and yet all aloof,
Shaking her legs like a five year old child:
Unable to sit still on a chair,
Her wrinkles deep and comments fruitless
Still trying to flirt with guys
Trying to get some action...
All she wants is weed and affection.
She long-ago lost her soul to her senses
With no direction to go,
The only way that she knows is a way to flow.
Grabbing what she needs,
Lack of will, makes the truth hostile.