I eat words and spit them out in sense

Farewell

poetryjunk — Fri, 21 May 2010 22:07:00 +0000

In white broken steel and soft silent
stands the refrigerator on stand by
to preserve the cold of his coolness
and conserve apple pies and morphine

Outside the door of rising pressure
vibrates your waste heat
in a caress of diffuse noise
through the thin air

The Wanderer

poetryjunk — Thu, 20 May 2010 10:05:58 +0000

I bow full of tears
and tell
the loneliness
on street
it was love

But nobody saw
and the crowd
engulfed me
into the oblivion

Utopia

poetryjunk — Wed, 19 May 2010 21:00:09 +0000

Border the desire
to landscapes
without interference

Where trees adorn the pasture
and farmers separating the roads
of hastiness

A glorification of being
where the city will never come

Continuous years

poetryjunk — Tue, 18 May 2010 20:25:57 +0000

Time is running out
Imperfect white socks stands alone
Slowly I pick up the morning and glasses
Black and ten years old
For a moment it escapes me
Under sweater and mood
I look confused
And mirrored my hair
As a proces of continuous years

Love is blind

poetryjunk — Sun, 31 Jan 2010 14:19:03 +0000

With frost on my lenses
I will follow you blindly

Short the free mind

poetryjunk — Mon, 07 Dec 2009 20:12:16 +0000

Blacker my thoughts
given in green genes
blue maimed eyewink
fresh diluted the alcohol
otherwise I was happy
fascinating appeal the conviction
of one who understood me
salt heals wounds not to blame
blame is for pastors
born by myself

Daydreamer

poetryjunk — Tue, 01 Dec 2009 22:15:16 +0000

Virtuosic are my dreams of pure emotion
madness with utopian fantasy
sleep is all, no noise from rising life of the day
touch myself a settled sleep
where everything is now and yesterday is gone
searching with precision to the comprehensive meaning

After life

poetryjunk — Mon, 30 Nov 2009 21:07:22 +0000

An unreal still life predominates in the bathroom
squeeze bottles and bath salts telling your life
a toothbrush stands upright, ready for use
the only that still moves are the drops on white tiles
drip drip drip….. the thought go down
it feels like a work of art and ‘I am the realistic surrealist’

Europe (2009) after the Berlin wall

poetryjunk — Mon, 30 Nov 2009 12:37:01 +0000

You can compare it according to historians.
Only these days doesn’t matter anymor

The intolerant wants

The tolerant keep silence

A restful protest of letting go

Racism is born by the laws of chaos

poetryjunk — Fri, 27 Nov 2009 21:21:47 +0000

Everything in the brain is temporary
Everything that comes out is forever