S0-II

Too dull to resolve your damning device
reluctant, the compass of one's measly being,
favonian thoughts turn the rotting tides
tho orient-ward, the faithful rod is kneeling

Subliming mirage of her softest touch,
sweeps the sinner from his rack of lies
the past playing like a melancholic montage
with dolor, he rests inside her naked thought

Her Melody

Say it again, I said
cursing the years
kill my words and be gone
by the sunset

Take the rain
burn the bees and the birds
leave the way you had always imagined

Oh, how the wind
serenades what is left of her
paints the shades
as autumn leaves make her lonely bed

Say it again, I said
thinking of her
your thought comes and aways
like a laughter

Hanging on, little less,
by and by,
end me like you had always imagined

Oh, how the wind
serenades what is left of her
sighs through the trees
to her melody they calmly bend

Say it again, I said
counting the days
till I see you again
cold and naked

Carve this song
in a tender terrain
so the ash and the clay would remember

Of how the wind
sways the seas with a subtle pain
sparks with a name
may the flames warm her lonely bed

Oh, comes the mare
every night and she tells a tale
of you and me
a season sinking without a trace

S4 - I

A heart wrapped in pitchers and vines
secluded from the touch of the dawn
dwells deeper into the mist and thinks
of pain and love abidingly as one

S0 - I

I look for a settling sigh
to silence her seeming cry
and take my own begotten pain
for which she cuts my every vain
to rid me of all that's hers
a swindling smile, a mind dispersed

Talk to me. Your words are subliming. They distract me from the emptiness of the ceiling above. What do you see when you look at it? is it as plain? is it as boring?

Your lips, your words, perfectly arrayed
your face, with lines bending logic and regret
to see you, is to see the ceiling as a way
to keep you here, and softly embrace

S3 - I

Stuck between visions that bring
nothing but some baseless yearns
and a thought stripped of all thats sane
forgive me now, it's just a game
a must to play, a must to lose
or to admit
all was obtuse

let me be a while and then
check back to see what might be left
of howl of wolves and frosty rocks
flakes of light dancing about

that twisted little spear of lust
wanders in my heart somehow
vein by vein, it hides the pain
when you're not around, not around.

N1

12 years passed like one of those winter afternoons,
that we used to waste on the street.

12 years passed under a cloud,
one that dared to defy our midsummer dream.

12 years got buried under your smile,
your voice got trapped beneath everything that left you,
the echo started.

12 years left one thing in mind,
Vivid and vibrant, it remains,
a part of me until I see you again.

Just like the white berries that would fall on our favorite bench,
a winter wind took you further than I could ever see.

The season wasn't right.
The season had other plans.

S2 - II

The melody that her lips don't whisper,
The memory that her eyes refrain to enter,
The feelings that everything forbid,
Though they only exist inside my head,
The visions that I keep myself from seeing,
What might be, but I won't be believing,

.:.

These are just a few things that people die from,
They make of an uneasy life, to turn your thoughts around.

Nostalgia II

A childish wish for snow, I remember.
A walk under it, I recall.
A night filled with white promises, I seek.
A sleepless night beside the fire, I need.
A winter morning with its chilling wind, I feel.
A mountain calling and recalling, I hear.

A will, to set them free, I've lost.
A longing, to retake what was once mine, I've lost.
The requiem, what I wish to lose.

S2 - I

Knowing, perhaps is the greatest burden. Knowing it all or knowing almost not enough, hardly matters. Disengagement is not a choice since forgetting is not in our control. Knowing her only shoal and brief, meaning shouldn't be assigned. But her words leave me no choice, penetrating haphazard looks with no horizon in her eyes leave me tangled in my own absurd web. To know, is to enter an everlasting maze. After all, nothing is ever over.

Paul Simon I

We come in the age’s most uncertain hour And sing an American tune.

On life II

Choosing the meaningless over the meaningful is at the hearth of every decision.

On life I

I think life is this simple: a little lie told by someone you can't live with or without. That simple...