I walk, and I don’t touch the earth
Like a dry leaf carried by the wind.
I have pockets in my coat
I put my hand in and there’s nothing
I put my hand in the other pocket
My hand is stuck, and I need to carry on walking
I need to take more steps and continue my journey.
Tears with one thousand faces.
Soil on my shoes with one thousand faces
And a hand stuck into my pocket with one thousand faces.
Sing the song, sing the song
All this noise is coming from inside my coat
I know now
It is not my coat
It’s Nemesis’s coat.
‘Petals and flowers!’ cries out the inner city
‘Lights and power!’ whispers in your ear
Solitude and sourness are your steps on pink stones…
We are interrupted by crystal laughter, names of friends, books of laughter
Questions you are asking…
I don’t know the answer!
Corridors and lifts appear in your dream
We drink water…
But our thirst needs something else.
Two cups of coffee on a table, maybe.
Cin Cin! my love
Please let the music play.
The thought is clutching me,
It always remains with me
Changing its colours
Like a chameleon.
Afraid to miss the heartbeats
Anatomic shapes I draw with my eyes,
They take shape in space
While I talk to the oxygen to sleep with the
To quench my thirst.
The heart is lifting me,
My eyes hurt,
My eyes get tired of carrying my eyelids
Hanging increasingly heavy.
Liquids are coming out of my thoughts
Ah, they are crying rain!
And my eyes hurt,
And I am afraid
Everyone will call me Penelope
With the desert islands inside me
I float towards unknown shores.
I was sleeping on a branded sofa,
Next to me was an angel
He was breathing
Air from a lemon tree,
While I was wrestling with my dreams
He was lying peaceful with a sugary face
Sucking all the power for the following days.
I was trying to mend the furies within my blood stream
By seizing the flow from brain to below,
When all of a sudden
A bird very strange
With an incredible song
Flew at my window
To make us feel present,
Not miss the world…
I’ve tried to awake the angel
For him to hear the trill
But I didn’t go on
He was sleeping too deep.
Old but gold
It’s old life on earth
All are bored now
They are making life a hell
To the newborn man
They promise a ride in the car
A bag full of smiles
A diploma in science
Freedom to think
A punnet of plums at payday
A sandwich to grab at midday
Fortified cereals at breakfast
A flu correction
Shoes that can fly
Questions with many answers
Haircuts for boldness
Fun at every corner
You just need to be there in time
To pick gold quietly
With a perfect face
No big noses
No funny nostrils
Just perfect thinking.
Be complex, be versatile, be simply you!
Says the world
The poor Christmas lights in the streets
Clench my heart so hard
That they leave an ugly mark
Is it not enough that I have dreamed
In the last sleep of yesterday
How I was transporting my friends around
In a Waitrose shopping bag
And when I wanted giddily
To walk up the streets
They were excessively narrow
And someone was running
From the opposite side
I couldn’t pass
He made room for himself first
He thanked me when he saw my face
Confound, I screamed
‘I did not have a choice!’
- We are born geniuses and then we go to school, we learn, we become smart and then all our life we fight to go back to the innocence, to the child we once were.
- The artist should not try to show reality because that is impossible and so the artist becomes a failed imitator. The artist should try and convey the imagination, which is the other side of nature and try to create other worlds with those worlds’ realities.
One morning I walked down the street and the pavement was crumbling
Sinking into the sand that was holding it.
I walked and walked,
I passed a bus shelter and in my mind, I said –
I should cross the street,
I stopped for a second to think,
And all of a sudden, the 30 or 40 people walking in the street
All had faces that I knew,
People that once meant something to me…
I had kind memories of them,
After a few seconds,
I panicked because I did not know to whom I should first say a big ”Hello
I put my head on the pillow to rest
It smells of old paint
I can hear a car with a modern engine passing by,
Driving maybe to catch someone left behind
I rest… I count some seconds
Then a fly crosses above my head…
There are not many flies where I live… it’s a special day today!
Then suddenly –
Because, suddenly, represents very well how things happen in my life –
The fly opens a sinkhole full of memories.
I have heard this sound before,
Oh, and how good it was, what feelings, what people!
When the fly passes above my head
Gets tangled in a string…
Very long string… from which memories are hanging,
And the fly flies
And it flies, but the string is so long… it is infinite.
Carrying the heavy and endless string becomes a burden for the fly
It regrets passing above my head.
It is raining
It is incredibly early in the morning
I am walking down the street with people that are waiting to wake up
It is raining!
The drops look like they are coming from the pavement and not from the sky.
My hair is dry, but my red shoes are wet.
I am full of cells.
I am thirsty.
I took some grass in hand
The field with grass was shining
I wanted to hold a bit of it in my hand
It did not smell… it was just green.
The sun is kind to my cheeks
I can see my reflection in the air.
I get away with a goat’s jump and then come back…
My reflection is still there
The same grimace, the same eyes.
I’ve seen Bosch paintings going around
They walk, they talk, they think,
They are taking over the world,
They talk to me, they talk to you,
They even shake hands and talk about money.
Once I wanted to bite from a pretzel
When one of Bosch’s humans approached me
And cried that one pretzel won’t make his life full.
He wanted 2… No, 10… No, 87… No, 200 pretzels
He’s got all the pretzels!
I can’t swallow mine… it’s stuck in my throat.
I put my hand down the throat and take it out
We are saved.
Five Museums hanging on a tree
One Museum and a statue eating lots of crisps
One Museum and a chandelier growing in a tree
One Museum and a monkey sitting on a cake
One Museum and a Pharaoh riding on the bus
One Museum and a coffin waiting for me to come.
My eyes are in bloom,
My nose, heart and tongue too
It is Spring.
My hair belongs to a mole,
My feet to a snake,
My arms to a bird,
My brain to a snail,
My voice to a whale,
The seen and unseen is here to be seen,
It is Spring and my eyes are in bloom again.
Where is all the suffering that shakes the earth going?
I can feel it… I can breathe it every day.
It is coming from somewhere but I cannot find where it’s going,
There must be someone who is studying it and dispersing it in other forms for us to see,
Someone with spectacles and with a precise microscope, a politically-correct scientist.
That hand that shows us the way,
That hand that is patting us on the crown,
How things must be done,
How freedom looks like,
How intelligence looks like,
How success looks like,
When it is real love,
Why we failed.
Blame and double blame.
Some people are holding their food as if they had fought like animals for it.
Their prey!!! After so much work, they become the new system.
They hold it with so much tenderness… not to lose any crumbs of it.
They sniff all the smell from it with greed… to not let any for others.
They bite and their tampering lips look like a kiss.
So much love… I witness so much love.
They spin the prey with the tongue over and over… 22 times, by the book.
After, they swallow the longed for prey with maximum care
To make it touch all the encountered parts of the body.
They close their eyes to concentrate on the tickle that the prey produces on its way to the stomach.
The parallel lines are meeting
They are waiting one for the other,
Time and parallel lines.
The light comes and then bounces back to where it came from
No one is lost.
I have eyes in the top of my horns like a snail,
The snail sings with my voice
Crowds come out of my mouth.
The clouds are standing in parallel lines and parade for the sun,
Time and parallel lines.
Break me in two,
Bury one half to grow into a tree
The other half will grow again like me,
I have a cherry tree
It is inside me
The fruits are ripe now
I sit on a branch full of ants
I collect with my mouth blood red cherries
I share them with the ants
I ‘am full now
Bury me half and I will grow.
If all people’s lives are fiction
If all our memories are fiction.
If all the stories told are potential fiction.
If the Universe is just fiction.
Everything we say everything we see
If us being born is just an illusion?
Being alive is just someone else’s fiction.
In reality we are nothing
An absolute emptiness.
What should we do…
Where should we start…
Who can I be…
Where can I go?
If we are just fiction.
So thirsty sometimes
Not even death can be salvation
We are in eternal thirst
Always going in the same circle
We go in and then go out
We are caught in ourselves and there is no escape.
Not here, not there.
Words that I forget existing
I cannot remember them
I do not know what they want and what they mean.
I forget that my head is round
The air squeezes my head
Harder and harder,
My head is a diamond now,
The words that I have never said
I still do not understand them.
Who they represent and what they want from me.
The shapes know me
I can’t be polished.
This year, nature was parsimonious in showing me her beauty.
She kept her bloom away from my eyes.
Maybe she was ashamed to show me her intimate beauty.
Maybe… this year I didn’t have the eyes to see the process.
I was blinded by last year’s beauty.
I stand in front of a chestnut tree in bloom.
It is full of flowers,
It is pouring with beauty
I stand and I look at it.
But it is not the tree that I see,
It is the memories I have of last year’s bloom.
Big love in your soul, heart, and mind.
Sometimes you don’t see people but angels.
You see people in angels.
Or you see the angels that are hidden behind these people without wings,
People without feathers.
People with belly buttons… people linked.
I found a feather on the chair
It was big.
She was jumping around on one leg.
She did not choose what to do or where to go
She was chosen,
She did not choose which bus number to ride to her home,
Faith decided for her.
Emilia did not choose which dress to wear – the faith decided for her.
The books were choosing her eyes to read.
The shoes, the tears… her breast… the pain… the roads decided her way,
They were all her faith.
To fly on a heavy sky,
The rain is full of cry,
Walking on a mud spitting lie,
Lies and mud spitting stones covering my head with storms,
Terra is nova, nova the terra nova.
One is one and two is three,
Shivering my knee that is growing a tree
Tree with ripen lies… ready to be picked tonight,
The rain will grow them fain.
When the night comes,
I point my finger at the clouds
Up there, deep in the sky
The birds are sleeping.
I hear a violin
It is a lullaby,
Dream little man,
Happy dreams little mortals
The days are turning into numbers.
It’s all counted now.
Little man forget you exist,
Take my wings and fly
Deep into the sky
Where the haven hides,
Hides from your chaotic eye.
Love is prayer
The essence of nothing when it gloriously expanded.
Ready to burst from your chest,
Walking along trees with big leaves, and branches on the ground
I look through the window and I see you,
You look at me.
I inherited the memory of that look
I knew the eyes before I was born,
They looked at me
But I have never seen your face.
Maybe you leaked in when the glorious expansion
You leaked in by mistake and you modified the essence of universal love.
Our love is impossible but visit me and watch me from afar
From the realm of dreams,
I will be there.
The time is pretending to be an eternity
But instead, it gives us just a minute.
You sour time,
You are pretending so much to be with us.
We, the kings of this world,
The kings of our thoughts,
How dare you play with us like this
We are like flowing water,
Like the water from the shower, desperate to take a form,
Ending in a dirty pipe.
You leave us in so much need to take a shape.
We, the kings of this world.
I cried reading Artaud
I cried looking out the window,
Loaded with veils
I get close to the window to see
The window bites my face
I am terrified
Now everybody can see through my conscience,
Five drops of liquid fall on my face
Where did they come from?
From the inside space,
I look out the window again
I can see babies and they are 9
They are living in a wet house, on the first floor and second floor
With 4 windows and a door,
Hades was in the back of the house,
Their mothers are not home
Stranger women are looking after them,
Little babies you will grow foreigners to your mothers
I cried reading Antonine today.
Someone has left 2 gates on this sphere,
One gate protects the Havens and the other one the Hell.
Walking by the river I hope that we will open the gate to Haven.
To cross or not the river.
A border line in the sky,
Inside some metal plates revolve up and down, round and round.
Tic-tic, tac-tac, tic-tac, tac-tic.
It might rain today in hell.
Everything goes round now.
Some mirrors spilt with dirt show me a way.
Who is that you see?
It’s all what you see.
I tried to separate inside me,
It is in vain.
Returning to the fishing line
Fishing for monsters.
Cold skin and fish eyes.
Someone is cycling and overtakes me,
Another one looks at me head to toe,
The other one is smiling
His Rolex is telling the time,
A very precise time,
They succeeded in capturing the time.
The time of nightmares?
The time of diamonds?
The time of blinded?
The time of understanding?
The time of hunger?
The time of happiness!
The time of the 9 months in your mother belly.
Fishing for life.
The time is surging from my body.
The riverbed is thirsty.
I feel how I drain through the needle’s eye.
I am in the search for a line.
The sixth line from the roof.
The sky’s roof.
I drain away and I don’t understand.
The sixth face.
The sixth line from the sixth face.
I drain away and I don’t understand what shape I have.
It is me – the missing line.
The missing line from the sky high.
Sadness and dust.
Everything is breaking.
If everything were made always to come and never to go
The soul rises and the body mud becomes.
The soul in his flight never misses the body
How comes that?
After they have been together in the supreme togetherness
An infinite time, love.
They loved together,
They have been one with the eternal moment.
At the end they split into two separate conditions.
Ther forget, they have kissed as one.
In the morning I am a horse carrying my treasure through postmodernism,
A little heart with high content is riding on my back!
I breathe, I breathe, I breathe.
At last, I breathe!
And then I fall.
Inside the darkness I stop breathing,
I pray for all of us that have fallen.
The crown of oblivion
Forgot who I am.
Jesus hanging on the wall.
I look, it is Virgin Mary and Mary Magdalena wearing tears.
They drink a cup of tea bitterly together.
The big tree shook his leaves.
We can give ourselves.
We can fade into oblivion.
Until the day will come, and the tears will dry.
The heart will be right,
The cross will be light.
The children will be the justice.
The white roses will bloom,
I will steal them one more time to make a gift to my mum.
I was left between 2 years.
Between two seconds.
I am a shell and then back human.
I am your sea and then back human.
I exist from time to time.
I exist in time.
I am your shell.
Put me in your pocket and take me with you everywhere.
As your sea of troubles and you, my human.
Let’s bathe in the sunshine.
Let’s pretend forever.
I don’t know
The sunny sky,
My chest with butterflies,
I fly, fly near your eye,
The ear stuffed with foreign sounds,
One is the other with veils over the tongue,
Pumpkin pies in my eyes,
Tell me you are a sign,
Sounds are over now.
I am sorry the boat can’t float.
In your concrete eyes.
Survivor of my dreams
I want to forget that I am a virgin,
To rest like pest on your chest,
Open your eyes and see the dead dove,
On my right the river on my left you,
Let me rest on your chest
Like a myth told from mouth to mouth
Told by our children when we go forever to hang from a cloud
It’s me, the survivor of my dreams.
Give me your nights and let’s go.
From A to Z
We are born to whisper.
The pain of our citizens.
Rewriting our cells’ story won’t change anything.
What should we do when we are confined by our nature?
There is nothing to be done.
Just to wait to take other shapes and then maybe we can see ourselves through the sea.
We hide behind the sea
And maybe some people, on the other side will see us as we are.
And then maybe we can be happy!
Happy to hear each other.
Happy that we are.
I just want to be funny, but I never can.
The pain in the air is making me sad.
It’s making me sad that I am happy.
A very short love story
It was dark,
It was a very steep street, and on the side, there were houses and apartments.
This street was going down the hill and bending to the right.
There was a man walking fast down the street.
Further down the street there was a woman, more like a girl, but she looked like a woman.
Both of them were in love.
In love with each other.
In that pitch dark you could see their love.
The girl – she was coming up the hill.
The man was coming faster and faster, down the hill.
The girl was hurrying up.
They came closer and closer.
Finally, they could see each other.
A huge power was veiling them.
They took each other’s hands and kissed.
The concept of friendship today conditions the freedom of society.
Three pairs of wings
In the Autumn,
I take her skin and I become Autumn.
In the Winter,
She gives me her skin and I become Winter.
In Spring we come to life together under the same skin.
In the Summer she is not me.
I need to go away and search for her.
Next to my window there is a tree.
In the tree lives a bird with three pairs of wings.
‘Birdy, come to me!’
Give me your skin and your wings to fly away.
My heart will beat faster than yours.
Your wings will speed greater under my heart.
I miss the summer universe.
Do me good and I promise to give you back the wings
Lighter than your heart,
Lighter than the flight,
To fly in the curves of the sky.
I am sitting at the edge of a photo with my hand over my mouth,
I am waiting for life to begin.
Our so fragile life.
Cracking like an autumn leaf.
I am waiting to breathe the air that I’ve started to see with my eyes.
I am floating
I am coming down and down.
Easy blow me,
I want to sit one more time at the edge of that photo.
Life to hold me in her arms.
At the window
Where can I find you?
From behind my windows, I see nothing.
Just square people divided by white lines.
The sky is the same,
Nothing to hold it together,
The music is in high notes and beautiful.
It snatches tears from my eyes.
It is not the music of my life.
Too high the notes… they make me cry
I am dancing with myself.
The music is too high
It makes me cry.
When even the thorns have stopped growing, then
Home I will return
To find empty walls
Sucked of any substance.
I will turn my head
I will turn towards you
Falls short whatever I think or say
Trying to hold on to the words
But I can’t say any more
And even the thorns have stopped growing now.
Thorns grow in us,
Thorns grow in us,
And a valley flows in me…
I wonder why I always long
I know nobody, anyway.
Thorns grow in us
The world still believes in the world
And I still thirst for light.
To be or not to be the root of a magnolia tree.
To get white and purple flower from this sallow ground.
But instead I swing in its waters.
Tree shadows have changed into waters.
They keep me on the surface.
I paddle, paddle on the shadows.
I am reflected on the other side.
I have purified myself,
Beautiful magnolia tree keeps me in the shadows of its waters.
I will drown of joy.
I slept so deep that my eyelid sank into my soul.
Sharp, it cut me.
Now I am bleeding impossible things.
How can I go back to when the grass had shut her eyes above the waters?
I bathe in rivers with my hair loose.
I am not the same
It is someone else with toes too long.
Who is going to carry me now on foggy days?
I can’t do it myself anymore
I have lost myself
I can’t hold my hand to show me my way.
And this cut is still bleeding impossible things.
The roofs of the houses are still there, smoldering.
The One and Only left some of us to master the illusion and some others to wake us up from it. Cruel!
On a rejected land.
Children know everything
They have eyes everywhere
On the Milky Way,
In the top of the tree,
In the back of my life,
In the hen house,
In the cell,
In my heart,
In my memories,
In the plum stone,
In your flesh,
In my smile,
In my hand,
In your sight.
But the language
We adults teach them
The vastness they know.
And we adults
When the night lowers her face towards me
I bend my thoughts and let them jump onto the other side,
to make me crazy with so much pain.
The night breathes in my neck with her unleashed demons.
Let me despise myself because I didn’t have time to talk to you
Let me struggle with pain,
Pain born and not made
Born in the same time as me.
When fire burned in the stove
Time was on the watch, so I could not escape.
Night, kiss me on the forehead!.
Night of my life!
The meaning of mankind
To whisper round words
And square feelings
Into my neighbor’s cat ear.
Because of the lack of mankind –
Walking down the street.
They are all gone away
Shopping for companions,
With dirty kisses
Full of debt.
I make a call from the corner of the garden
From the red British box
At the other end my neighbor’s cat answers
I let her know she can came and visit
I bought rugs for the entire house.
Beautiful gardens have tall walls
In the big cities beautiful gardens have tall walls
I am walking past them
In the dusk,
Afraid the city’s shadow will swallow me.
The curious light
Is making monsters out of it
I stop under a bridge to rest
The shadow nearly catches me by my wits
Rosehips grow by the bridge
Blush like the spots on the sun
And I remember
That my grandmother invented them
She invented them for me
To make tea and feel better.
Now I continue at pace
Drinking in my mind.
I grin like a Cheshire cat
The city nearly caught me,
But it is just a matter of time
Until it crawls back to my feet again.
Orele alea clemente si suculente
Le-am pierdut treazā
În loc sā dorm nevāzutā de nimeni.
Plouā ca al rāu
Parcā sunt Ana lui Manole
Mā dau pe deal în jos
Alunec pe nailon
Mā joc pânā mā zidesc scorpiile lumii
În realitatea lor fu….
Doar cafeaua mā ascultā
Si mā musc-amar de limbā.
Lângā mine apare împāturitā o fatā
Sobrā, înnebunitā si naivā
Mā întreabā limpezitā
‘Pot sā merg pân’ la toaletā?’
Da! Nu te lāsa ziditā!