Friday, April 30, 2010

Yellow Brick Road

There is but still there isn't
as if the absence in itself remained as a whole truth
waiting to be unfolded.
Still I can taste the incompleteness,
a bitter taste lingering on the tip of my tongue
recalling old misunderstandings, old floods.
As if there was but there wasn't,
as if the truth would still unfold.

The day opens up as a photo from a vintage movie
Brightly golden sunrise printed on a Kansas horizon
and still clicking my heels won't do the trick
While waves of gray distract my weary eyes
can't find the home that I still seek
And the shiny golden roads of guilt bricks
ahead of me
keep pointing the way

Because there won't be any words for us to say
when it comes to our goodbye
except for saying we did try
Surely we did try
on a smokey gray horizon up above
watching our every single move
as we got old
Though a single wire still connects
the way we feel to the way we felt
and as feeble as it was held by weak hands
we will survive the power of the cracks
that torn us apart once more

(i feel you but there's sadness galore)

Monday, April 12, 2010


Sincerity is biting my lower lip, bleeding it out to the last drop
of hope and patience and fear
as time races by and passion vines grow
all around my head
Thorns piercing through a thick skin
of rough regret
opening doors for the sweetest poison to make its way

Veins lit, and a darkened organism
waiting to be ignited up
then organs working bloodwet
drop by drop
Whole stains are formed
so the whole picture can be seen

"farther from you, farther from me
watch your step girl
you keep it"

Tuesday, April 06, 2010


All I know is words have left me
for good
as yester years slip into the bedroom
and scatter on the floor
I was but am not anymore
winning battles without realising
that is how you lose the war
while fields burn over and invaders flee too soon
and as the TV is turned on

Still I can hear from you
not on the screen, as it would naturally seem
but in the pictures where you smile naive
drunk from the youth that seeps into your pores
while you remain asleep
The glowing in young eyes
fading like falling stars
while the movie continues to play
and play


as if while energy doesn't fail
standing you'll always stay
but watching eyes from your motion picture
eventually look away.

Sunday, April 04, 2010


I was born with a clock
buried straight into my heart
and the counting began when I first knew
where to start
But the hands go always backwards
and faster with each time
my fate deceives the routes taken
and it gets more and more tiring to try

I was born with a knife
buried deep into my heart
And it conducts the blood from within to the world
amazingly enough, spreading amusement to some
and trying to fit pieces to the whole incomplete part
of a puzzle still confused
Pleads for delaying the end are heard and guarded
as amulets from the nostalgia of childhood
in ways that I've never even used before

When hearing a pain so intrinsic and medical
(as in related to cientific medicine and all)
I live it to the limit and until the fall
ignoring sacrifices made and privileges thrown away
as the pain remains
but expensive pleasures will stay
as long as they last until realizing
it is already another day

I was born with a heart in my chest
that teases and tries to say
how inherently, it owns
the power to wait