Untitled XL

So many times I'll say goodbye
to all the words - are left behind
So many ways I'll have to try
before I can unfold my mind

And I may perish without ever
or I may glitter in the heavens
But I will rise above the weather
if I can get of you the feathers

XXXIX

A FRIDAY IN JUNE

Like any other, grey and blue.
The rain and the wind
companions to my solitud
smash against the windows' fragile glass
The absence of a fire-place,
in this technological days,
make the scene just more mundane.
The cold reigns inside
as it does in my soul.
Going out is a hard task,
but what wears me out the most
is the thoughts, only the thoughts.
As much noise I hear,
it all bounces in my ear
making of silence a mighy king.
And the beat of my heart
is weakened by this long fever,
it will perrish without ever
at its maximum be feeling.
Without ever achieving the task it was set for.
Not a sound, nor the silence
put my mind at ease.
My exhausted brains
make this whole poor body ache.
And the resting in my cosie bed
becomes the hardest thing to do.
All the singing birds are gone
to more warm places.
They hace taken all the songs
and left only city noise
to increase my torment.
There's many things I ought to do
put upon my shoulders
by the unforgiving rules
of a never resting society.
I don't want to take part on it
as they scare away my sleep.
I need to emancipate from all this filth.
So my mind gets lost and wanders
between more welcoming worlds.
Until it's interrupted
by the most familiar noise.
I cannot get to recognise it
and then I'm taken in a sudden
away from this half-dreams
away from this half-nightmare.
It's the ring of the phone
rising above all.
There's a stock-pile of tissues
to confirm the diagnosis.
I put the kettle on the stove
and hurry back to get the phone.
A voice from other times
swaps away my mind
takes me back to the basics of my existance.
A new world is set before my eyes
where all the magical ideas run wild
They take the form of colorful brush-strokes
and without seeing what they really are
I feel them deep inside.
I do not stand, or lay or sit.
I only feel.
There's no greater good
or an objective.
No more, no less, only what is fair.
An all and a one
of which I'm now another part
but not a part, an idea,
a thought, a whole!

Untitled XXXVIII

Fake all the letters I once wrote
all the dreams I once behold
and the smiles I ever gave
fake is being awake

Untitled XXXVII

All my words loose their meaning
on this turbulent day
when I realise my mind's so fake

All the meanings loose their words
and time stops itself
say goodbye to what I know
say fairwell to the unsaid

My heart's completly empty
consumed by the mundane
I refuse to live the same
over and once again

It is heavy upon my shoulders
this burden's not mine to bare
and the thinking so fake
thoughts that make my body ache