On a constant journey
Into a non-expository domain
A platform of undiscovered word arrangements
The mind will do its best
To unveil a new influx of phrases
In order to self-medicate
And enunciate
Every hunch and intellection
For which there is no proof
Devoid of the light
A malfunction of the rod cells
A mind walk is a blind talk
The eyes now obsolete
One soft touch in the dark
Evokes chance and desire
To carry the story farther and farther
And plunge into the dangerous sea
To fight impediments and suffer cramps
Just for the sake of the plot
A 3-4 dimensional territory
Its length and width
Height and depth surreal

Your kingdom.

A dislocated dream in the art world
Like reality’s eye seeking escapism
Where to go is not what matters
For this cage expands in the heart
Every keystroke, every footstep
Every enunciated word of madness
Is perseverance within absurdity

This is a day where your feet are cold
Walking on thin ice with no one to hold
The water in the abyss gazing hungrily
Deep down the hands are waiting merrily

In the spiral to rewind life once again
In the vortex to save the best friend
Way lost with dusty debris in your eyes
A world that collapses with your cries

Where are you

In a place that has ceased to exist
Somewhere the snow queen had left a kiss

Where are you

On a planet with two moons colliding
A realm with two suns confiding

Their everlasting trust
Where is it you are hiding

(2011)

This year’s mind
Comatose
The self-delusive heart
Dying on a page
From overdose
Of love,
Hands washed
In others’ wounds
Fingerpaints, red
To blacken the shiny night
Dripping on our flesh
Share the nature’s bed

This year’s mind
oblivious
The dirt under the nails
Mainly shedded skin
Sleep, says Morpheus
Dream now
Eyes sewn shut
Eyeballs choking on tears,
Figures of the subliminal
In your dusty vortex and
Twisted imagination
Create life that’s unconditional

(2010)

In the favour of your own irony
Choosing the comfort of the other
Leads you astray towards villainy
Which you inflict on your mother

Cry for the velvet skin to touch
This innocent stomach of life
Which gives you oh so much
Meaning and tasks to stay alive

Stroke the tired hands of motherhood
At a distance within arms length
Closer and closer into the woods
I only have a little left of strength

Reaching out for the arms of solitude
Feeling this earthquake’s magnitude
Only one thing is resolute
That’s your version of verisimilitude

Your authenticity continues to elude
The tone of your voice is subdued
Your life ends after the prelude
Might as well add an interlude

One sentence suffices to conclude
Your failure, decadence and attitude

(2009)

Door has been locked from the inside of this hole
Curtains drawn, pour the midnight wine
Typing words that disappear in a vaccum
Visualizing images that fade from grey to black

Empty pages the tree had silently bled for
Bad karma is the cause of our wounded core
Imagination, hope and the good will
Enable a smile wrapped in our own despair

Our precious is nothing but opaque ornaments
Putting us into financial predicaments
Beauty, beauty feeds the hungry hole
And only mercy will save our dirty little souls

(2009)

Short hours pressed between a day’s routine
Or is it the body that cannot wait
The most beautiful light you’ve ever seen
Time has as usual come way too late

Slowly fading into a dirty white neon flash
Ugly moment to invite friend and foe
Maybe write a brand new overture for cash
Won’t make you any happier though

Always looking back to where it had begun
Remember you face the same thing twice
See the same old face during the morning sun
Don’t live a life so easy and concise

(2009)

Hours

Seventeen hours of being awake
Each day it is all the same
Uncertain of this life being a fake
Need cash to finish off this game

Seven hours of numbing slumber
Each night hands on the dimmer
Only slowly switching to a lower number
Until you see the black star shimmer

Twenty four hours of heartbeat
With 120 beats a minute
The very moment our hands meet
Take this chance and win it

(2009)

‘Monday’s child is fair of face.
Tuesday’s child is full of grace.
Wednesday’s child is full of woe.
Thursday’s child has far to go.
Friday’s child is loving and giving.
Saturday’s child works hard for a living,
But the child who is born on the Sabbath Day
Is bonny and blithe and good and gay.’

- Mother Goose