Wednesday, November 6, 2019

Words.

Betrayed, by Lorenza Dona (c)
I sleep holding your pillow tight
the night arround me unfolds in thick waves of sorrow
I breath your lies, keeping them in the bed
where we became one then...
I can't forget and i can't remember
I keep my eyes closed because ghosts are coming 
and dreams freeze cutting my eyelids.
Your touch on my body still
scars bleeding memories, yet --
"i do love you" is still in my ears...
vows were for you just empty words
words words words...
Ghosts are coming. 
I thought you were telling the truth
I was. I was. I was.
Ghosts are coming
Your smile is piercing right through the walls
How easy it is to forget...
Judas preferred a kiss.
Now your eyes into mine
now your hands on my back
now you inside me
I wake up and its 2 am
I wake up and my body hurts
I need to sleep again
I need to sleep the whole day
because night haunts me 
like your last kiss
like your kiss, Judas... 

Lies.

Image by jacqueline macou from Pixabay 

There is no special reason why people do tell lies to each other. A lie is the easy way for someone to have his own way of life without the need to give reasons to others. There are all sorts of lies, a huge variation, indeed: white ones, small ones, big ones, soft ones, hard ones, all of them, without any exception, have as their final target only ourselves. We lie to the people we love the most, because we think that they, because of their love to us, will believe our story more easily and more efficiently. We lie to others, in order that our ego becomes safe, unharmed, locked. We lie because we dont want anyone to take a look deep inside our souls. We lie because we just want to have all the benefits and no emotional obligations or reciprocation. We lose the ones we love, the only people that care about us, because when we manipulate them to believe our side of the story or when we construct some of it, we are not telling the truth. But the irony of the matter is, that we don't want others to lie to us.

 How do you detect a liar? Straight from the heart, and straight from the start. Instinct tells you that someone who says "I love you" but reality shows otherwise, is telling you a lie. Because, by saying a lie, one can be sure that no one will bother him and ask for any details in the first place. A lie, is the easy way to have our peace of mind, to have our space secure, to taste things that we couldn't  if we have said the truth. Because truth, brings along with it something that is called responsibility for our feelings and actions.

 Every lie is beautiful. Is the truth that we want to live, but we can't. Is the man or woman we want to be with, but we can't. Is the life we want to live, but we never will because we are cowards and we are scared to show our true self. Every lie is a piece of the happiness we are craving for, but that is elusive and so far away from us. Every lie, is a kind of pain killer of the soul. You take it, and the pain seems to go away, at least for some time. And when the energy of the pill wears off, the pain is there again, stronger, deeper, tormenting and tearing as apart bit by bit, until we can't stand it any longer.

 There is no special reason why people do tell lies to each other. Some say it is in the human nature to lie and make excuses about almost everything that it is disturbing or ugly or just not so much fun to face it in the eye. Because truth hurts. Because truth doesn't set you free, after all...

Monday, October 7, 2019

Fortress Walls




VENETIAN MASK by VALENTINA KONDRASHOVA.


Lies are a little fortress; inside them you can feel safe and powerful. Through your little fortress of lies you try to run your life and manipulate others. But the fortress needs walls, so you build some. These are the justifications for your lies. You know, like you are doing this to protect someone you love, to keep them from feeling pain. Whatever works, just so you feel okay about the lies.

WM. PAUL YOUNG, The Shack

Thursday, September 26, 2019

Silence

Photo by W A T A R I on Unsplash


Silence is white
is a place once alive 
filled with laughter and joy
an old abandoned house rotting away 
along with the memories
day after day after day

Silence is red
like blood dripping 
a stain on the last page of a last letter
the last word, then a full stop
Silence is a full stop

Silence also is
a gray kiss
a purple certainty of the end of love
a flower that withers away in a cracked pot
because the hand who was watering it
isn't there anymore

Silence is nothing and everything
its the voice you long to hear
and the face you long to kiss
away away away...

Silence is useless
like a broken key inside an old rusted lock
that no one cares to try and pick
no one cares to open that door
to forgiveness

Silence is the door

Wednesday, January 16, 2019

Metamorphosis

The Metamorphosis of Love,  Joseph Cusimano

Change as you must, 
but always remember:
Love only favors those who believe.
Beware of the beauty 
that can only deceive
And the fading glow of the slow dying ember
Alas, you’ll be the one to blame
You tried hard,
 but remained the same...


My first try in quadrille here, for the Quadrille #71 in Dverse Poets Pub

Thursday, September 6, 2018

Thursday, April 26, 2018

Dreaming

Full Moon, Original Art by ©Dorina Costras - All rights reserved by the artist.
































one dream, one truth
breaking this night in pieces
only you and me
and the moon
wearing a silver smile

Sunday, March 11, 2018

A Sunday morning like all the rest

Breakfast, Pierre Bonnard (1917)

it is a fine Sunday morning
like all the rest
usually breakfast is served in a little chipped bowl 
i will smile at your photograph trapped into the bronze frame
some times 
you will smile back
or
some other times
you will not even notice i am sitting here
but i will not say a thing because i know 
you like it this way
and as always
it is understandable

only today
a Sunday morning like all the rest
suddenly i feel tears escaping from my eyes
not knowing from where they came
or where they go
all blur and me standing here 
struggling to discover 
the meaning of this sea behind my eyelids
maybe it is just an allergic reaction 
an eye infection or dust or the sun...
or maybe it was my reflection in the mirror when i woke up
i looked at it hopping to find you on the other side
but there was nothing 
only a forgotten shirt thrown on a chair
and last night's kisses 
crippled
on the floor.... 

Comme un marin


William Henry Margetson, The seashore (1900)


*"Une femme connait le visage de l'homme qu'elle aime,
 comme un marin connait la mer" *
                                                                                              Honore De Balzac

Gently as the evening wind blows
over the waves sadly plays like a dolphin

my longing for you

   The trembling  sun dies shattered in fiery fragments

With my fingers, glowing,

I set the passing clouds on fire

       painting my yearning across the melting sand

How many times have I called your name 

and still it flies back to me sang by a siren

sleeping inside a  fairy tale…

I must be mad…

But is not Love the ultimate madness?...

The day dies like a black swan into the arms of Oceanus,

and distant stars shyly shine above me
If i was under another sky 
like when i was a child
i would count them one by one singing a fair well to summer...
and yet, here, 
my mind is only full of you... 

Suddenly your face ignites into my soul
Ripples and blue eyes and shiny lips 

harmonic cosmic symphonies
I dive into your smile, wild and unstoppable,
melting like sea foam around your body
tasting salty lips and skin that is the twin of my own
as we vibrate tuned to an ancient rhythm...


Oh…how the heart knows what hunger for the beloved is…


Finally

 inside this terrifying silence 
I conjure away the inevitable fading of your memory

With seashells and moving sand dunes
that have the shape of your face

sleeping beside me at 4am in the morning…



        "...A woman knows the face of her lover like the sailor knows the sea..."*