Sunday, May 17, 2015

Un Héros Très Discret

Un Héros Très Discret


Are you cold?

You stood there naked, so vulnerable and proud

you peeled your clothes off

in calm and calculated moves and surgical precision

- what a bold decision! -

under the harsh neon social media lights.

So plain, no-nonsense and simple was your fashion,

but you looked bright & regal, humble & on fire.

Did you grab the controller and beat down Insecurities with Passion?

and I can only imagine, how many souls you can inspire.

So clear and honest, like childhood tears,

were your writings on the wall under the brutal spotlight.

Some shadows out there might be lurking for a fight

but you don’t need to test your might

-          you gently asked for some respect

despite you have the right to damn demand it.

So brave

to expose your skin in all its scarred and handsome glory

reveal you are a wounded Leon at heart

though you can be the best Chameleon, too.

And for the scattered fragile moments

the tiny minutes you allow yourself to feel the chill

and taste the blood specs off re-opened wounds,

I’d like some day to be half step closer,

offer my blanket and a band-aid, or two…

To S. Leonheart

Monday, March 2, 2015

Hush, my heart...


I want to whisper you to become my greatest secret
the one I will be longing to spit out with every chance
and if you succumb to this selfish request, by any chance,
you'll be the only secret I will allow my self to tell
to yell on the top of my lungs and be a bragging bitch about it
to show my pride and love, like an immature colorful peacock
wounded by cupid's arrow, bleeding happily.
Perhaps it is cliche, risque, this growing infatuation,
but what if you are the sole incarnation
of that obscure everything I have been dreaming all my life?
i'll dye my heart in happy colours and play its strings to sappy tunes
I'll smile and love all of your artistic disguises
but I'll adore only your face
(I'd rather die in your embrace)
than miss the spectrum of your rainbow.'s still a secret, especially from you!
I want to tell you so bad, yet my blushing heart claims it taboo
you'd only brush me off as one out of the many, I guess...

Sunday, March 1, 2015

Up, close and personal Yearnings of a Longing & Introverted mind



I saw the picture of a ghost today
it was a memento of a fair and pained soul's deathday
and it might have been a blasphemy the fact
that the face burned me and shook me so
because it looked just like your reflection
and it is so pathetic, that pictures are the only connection
I have with you - would you consider? to be my bitter-
-sweet substitute for my disowned cigarettes?
I'm dying to inhale your breath and keep you in my lungs
and resign my life and all my little moments to your taste.
You can spark up my purposeless decaf and accompany
my gallons of hot and steamy tea; I'll scream my plea
if it'll turn you on and make you say yes.
Pardon my intrusion, I'm taking off my shoes and coming in,
it's just that I have this solid feeling causing my heart friction,
that we can be each other's forever and ideal addiction.



Living under the broad daylight
was something I had missed
but now as I move and am and interact
and trying to act; like my fellow robotic locusts,
(gone, my individuality lusts)

something is amiss

and I just cannot dismiss

the dark and sympathetic lonely nights
that are now devoured by sleep
(the morning's awakening is so steep)
there has to be a semblence of normalcy
it is the pillar of idiocracy
and bloody sweaty paper feeds its locomotive
this era's ulterior motive

gone are my happily dark thoughts,
this new persona has succumbed
to its turn-offs
in order to survive, one must divide
and conquer
the clutter
and cacophony of heartbeats
(this must be the ultimate nightmare)
of the clay puppeteer

the scenes behind the eyelids are cut
Jeanne's voices have been shut
keep your eyes open
bloodshot, the contacts must stay on

It's everyday life synthesis
bitter-routine symphony (I can change)
dreams in parenthesis

(but the memory remains)

Thursday, July 10, 2014

Binary Diary


Breath 101010

I've lost that part of me
that made living seem as easy as to breathe
we are robotic ants with faulty brains
breathing in and breathing out
it's an automatic function of our Operating System
windows of the dual helix

But living seems to be constantly out of grasp
partly because we don't let live and don't get love
or cause we're way too busy imitating the grey monkeys
and building walls with cracks barely sufficient.

I'll lend you my remote control if you can bring the pop-corn
perhaps we'll even get to choose a film that ain't a blockbuster
I used to be my couch's only master
but you will even get an extra pillow if you come.
This is an invitation paved with good intentions,
though always lurks the risk we'll both get scared as hell;
of a bad outcome, loss of face, or evil spells
and kill this infant spark before its birth.
If that will be the case, oh, glorious days ahead!

Either entranced in perfect high-tech awe of boredom,
idly caressing our mental genitals to silent spasms,
or fierce in apathy we boldly ride each night as lonely digits
butchering through temporary friends of skin and plastic;
tearing the superficial wrapping - walking party gifts -
fully recyclable, environmental hostile and unique.

The sun will carry on to rise each day regardless
of all the pills you'll chunk to cure the vain, the pain
the need to find more human traits to slain
No matter how much work or tasks, how many adult serious faces
you'll use to threaten your hangover with,
deep down we sadly know the game is over
when we are left with just the mirror's face to sleep with
secretly wishing we had still
a bedtime and a teddy and a dream.


Thursday, May 29, 2014


 Is there anybody out there? ....Yet, little it matters, as long as the vast darkness of the sky remains beautiful even to solitary eyes.


 It has been some time now since I last visited this "blog". I was quite surprised to see that there had been about 460 page views, although I haven't really paid any attention to "sharing" its contents and I have quite neglected writing any new posts. Not to mention the fact, that it contains personal delirious rambling in poetic form - which, I imagine, can't make it very popular...

Of course, I'm not as arrogant and air headed as to believe that all these people actually read my blog. I suppose, the vast majority of visitors stumbled into my blog quite accidentally, while "googling" for something else.

But, to the few that perhaps became interested in it, I would like to apologize for the lack of content and further posting, and to seize the opportunity to ramble some more - about the reasons of my absence this time.

You see, I suppose this blog started out as a strange combination of an imaginary friend, a diary and a message in a bottle thrown in the arms of the sea. Although it was "out there", it wasn't really expected to be found. It was also, a sort of "truth or dare" game with my self - do I dare to expose my truth, naked and flawed, to whoever might see it?

This form of writing, my rambling poems and amateur mute songs, begun for me as a dim firework (I don't know if there is such a thing as a dim firework, but it's the only way to describe it) during the - oh, so damned and fragile for everyone - adolescence. It lasted until my early after school years, when it was brutally pushed away by my "logical self" and gloriously neglected for the sake of studies, friends, lovers and wild partying.
It came back, subtly and discreetly, but with a vengeance, after a quite painful period of my life, to remind me how to awkwardly express my feelings again. How to distill the emotions from within and how to turn them from sheer blood and venom, to something more positive for me.

I still have more material than what I've posted here in my hard disk. But right now, I can't post anything. And I haven't been able to write something new for some time now.
It's weird. Ever since I remember my self, I have been feeling as my feet are roots, going deep in the ground, connecting me with reality and life around me, while my "upper self" is a cloud, travelling dreams of the day and an imaginary cosmos. I had always been "living" my emotions vividly in my soul.
But now, I don't feel anything.
I can only sense the walls of harsh reality closing down on me. Technically, I know there is a light in the end of the tunnel, but I can't actually feel the hope. Neither any desperation. I'm neither happy, nor sad. Just deeply dissatisfied with my life, a flat liner with a beating heart, kind of a paradox.
I can only see the walls, and they are bare. And so tall.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not one to complain for adversities, when life gives you lemons, you just have to make lemonade, and try to make it damn good, too. I just wish to find a way to earn a lemon and to be able to taste its sourness to the full.
To be able to honestly laugh out loud or bleed well- anything but sleeping awake in this capsule.

So, I currently cannot write or create anything. Big deal, I know, who cares, the world is seriously ill right now and I'm just whining...

But I'm just curious to know... are there any other people feeling like that? Feeling the "actual reality" around us as a suffocating thing, numbing our true senses? Restricting us to routines, mechanical reactions and plain survival? Often, nowadays, even survival is difficult...

Or am I the only one thinking like that? (In which case, a good psychiatrist is in order).

"...Major Tom to Ground Control..."

Over and out, Houston, we've got a problem, but I shall bug you no more... just baby steps for now.

Monday, October 21, 2013

Inner Peace


Inner Piece

“Twinkle-twinkle little star, so clumsy that it fell
wasn't really meant to live to tell
saved by the angels' bells
mama's scarred knees and holy promises
daddy's energy on premises, while
big sister's waiting at home with Snoopy
And so she gathered all her strength
pulling IVs, leaning against plastic walls of white
knowing she had to cry out for dear life
but that's just not like her at all”

But look, she survived somehow in silence
bleeding unrealized inner radiance
shyly scorning the outside world
that's just calculating what she's worth
"Fellas, it's all about the inner piece,
love, inspiration and imaginings".

At school she paid full attention
to blend in was her intention
but kids said she wasn't normal
the house she drew was so informal
sketched in perspective and not 2D
the roof's not red and there's too much purple ink.
Oh, why are you trying so hard to adapt?
You don't even know why the teacher had you slapped.
Why are you trying so hard to bond?
All the best friends were here to go - and isn't it hilarious
that they were all born under the sign of Aquarius?
Must be like the case with men in Sagittarius.

Growing up was hard on her mentality
torn among her bouquet of personalities
seemed so puzzling and missing a piece.
Is it ok to be cotton candy smile and sweet
while also in seclusion and purple deep
scarlet glam gal rolling in dirt for fun
serious and perfect and a control freak
changing hair colors feeling full of white streaks

But look, she survived somehow in silence
bleeding unrealized inner radiance
shyly scorning the outside world
that's just calculating what she's worth
"Fellas, it's all about the inner piece,
love, inspiration and imaginings".

Hush now, it’s ok, miss Sadness is gone,
she couldn’t convince you did everything wrong
Hush, cause you no longer have to dress
the cloak of the fidgeting dame in distress
- unless there’s a fetish you should not repress!
For you can finally grasp that last piece
feel it and fumble it, persuade you it’s real
- it’s always been there, but now it’s been healed