The thought is fleeting
The mind is bigger than corpse
The passion is painful
The dive is scary
Yet knowledge is eye-opening
And talent requires feeding
Silence is glorious
And company can be distracting
Reality is unreal
It is formed by our minds
The time passes still
As we keep on loading our clocks
You can only write
Your vision is blurred
There’s no peace of mind
The soul flees through the pen
Into the page it flies
Whether it’s midnight or day
Your choices are sliced
When a thunder broke the sunny day in half,
I was dreaming with my eyes fixed on the empty sky.
Oh, was it empty when I’ve fallen asleep,
Now dark carpet covered it.
The anxiety came with the colour of deep blue,
My dreams clouded with nightmarish glow,
The depth of the soul uncovered sharply,
Found myself begging for mercy of the black king
‘Oh Lord, bring back the sweetness of a thought!’
My dream – a nightmare,
Emptiness filled with pain
Of a heart longing for answers,
For questions not to remain.
Suddenly the wind blew taking a page away.
The page of the book of life danced its way to the grave.
In the muddy puddle the words were lost,
Never to be rediscovered,
Never to be written again.
‘Oh, dear Lord, is that what I was heading for?’
Still no secrets uncovered,
I’m standing in the middle of a storm.
One more tear I will shed
One more glass of champagne I won’t have
As I will drink wine instead
When will this sorrow go away?
When will this memory find its way
Out of my head?
A song of madness
Sung in shadows, hiding from the lights
Strong feelings may never actually die
I’m walking on a sunny day
Delighted to have sunlight on my face,
Pleased to have my say
By writing. On starry nights I glance into space
While the two worlds mix with each other.
A sudden feeling of discomfort, inexplicable.
I’ve got thoughts to gather
But they all split, it’s undeniable
Something’s been watching me
For a long, long time
From behind that cherry tree.
Have I committed some crime
I’ve written about?
I can see the light
Which is coming out
From my inside…
What a mad suicide!
Normal for lunatic poets
Who put their sorrow aside
By drowning it in the muse’s sockets.
Nothing gives that much joy
Nothing is worth living so much
As the most beautiful act of making art
Nothing is more precious than poetry
Everything is passing
Everything is uncertain
But for this flower
Blossoming in my soul
Taking advantage of my heart and mind
Leading to self-destruction
The power is impossible to stop
Let us pass away in the name of poetry
The jewel of humankind