Orbit

There is no gravitation law involved;
the earth revolves in reverence of my beloveds’ footsteps,
each time she dances on its surface.

The Boy Who Played With Fire

I burn.
Not in my self-made hell,

looking into your eyes was like
playing with fire.

Days That Never Came

Time went wrong:

The past caught up with the present
and altered the future, forcing you to

Give me up,

And I became the

Boy who stopped waiting.

Time went wrong.

And this how it ended:  you, me and

days that never came.

Period

I watch her go and I know,
I know that
in this sentence,
or the next,
there will be a small dot that will end it all;
the frayed frame of my windowpane
frames a picture of a girl
with frazzled hair
in a black dress,
walking a long distance as she goes
farther,
farther,
and farther away
into nothingness, and now
the frayed frame of my windowpane
frames a small dot,
barely visible in the far distance.
barely!
She is
merely a dot that now;
the end of mine and
any sentence,
silenced or said,
ever.

Loss of Innocence

I wish you had told me that
the tides of your glance
shifts and dances to the winds of lust
so I would  have only given you my body,
not my soul.

Back Alley Abortion

Believe me! Since the moment you left
I've been smoking my cigarettes without a filter.
My lungs resemble your soul:
black.

One of these nights I will abort the child of my unconscious thoughts in the back alleys
of memories now dark and dead.
I’ll drop this bastard dream,
the product of you raping my love
my hatred will cut its cord,
or so I hope.

If you have the gall to witness it,
stay only tonight
and watch me step on this womb, crushing
my dreams of you and
us
and then go wherever you like.

I prefer filterless cigarettes, than making “love” to you.

Serene Serendipity

I poem your glance,
and you glance my poetry;
what serene serendipity it is
that
the poetry of your glance,
suits the rhyme of my heart
so well.

You

Bitter
it is how unattentive of me
you are;
oh, center of my attention.

Each Time You Go

Each time you go
leaving me to my self,
no rain falls
to wash the pain off the window.
I spend each day sitting by the pane:
me, and ink-scarred papers;
Poetry becomes no more than nothing
each time you go.

Every Moment Since The First

I miss her;
whom does not reside here
by me
anymore,
yet I
have lived with her every moment since the
first.

To My Damned Beauty:

Damned beautiful:
                send my regards to your pride. Tell it
for me
its glorious might is worth nothing more than
lonesomeness.
                                                - Sincerely
                                                  My Broken Heart

Chrysanthemum

Everything happened quicker than I expected.

Before I even got the chance to clad my words with the black garb of mourning your loss,
you buried my poems
in the fell clutches of forgetfulness.

Now that you are grieving word for word of my
every love letter I send you,
you should know
today
you are shedding tears over the grave
of the dead dreams of one whom
prayed sincerely
for every prayer of yours to be answered.

I pray still;

I pray that God,
as usual,
keeps his ears
shut
so that your prayer for departure stays
unanswered,

alas,

Everything happened quicker than I expected.

A Separation

I watch you
on the other side of the window.
A thick smoke curtains the space in between
and you depart
as the train leaves.
How easily do people
separate

One Smile at a Time

I smile every so often;
when I think of you,
when my crying and laughter become the same…
once every so often
when I get lost in the sea of
daydreams,
sailing on my memories without a paddle.
And how pleasantly painful it is
when you pierce my heart
one smile at a time.

Game Over

Game over.
I've lost as usual.

When I look up,
I see the same scene as usual;
me, in a coffee shop,
counting raindrops on the window,
contemplating about what philosophy there is behind
these cigarettes that smoke me nonstop,
an why they don’t quit me.

I burn my words with the smoke I inhale
so I don’t utter them.

I keep playing with my matches,
lighting them up,
so I won’t need the warmth of your embrace.

I play the violin
so it screeching sound
would make me forget the melody of your voice.

So I don’t hear your silence.

And after all this, I’ll be silent
and give the remaining words to my eyes
and close them shut,
so that there won’t be anything left to say.

It’ll be just me and whore of a heart that never managed to be your minds bedfellow.

The Eternal Nightlife of The Restless Mind

Damn nights that have no end,
and mornings that never come.

Memories,
the unwelcome guest
invited by
the tick-tock of the clock.

Hug your pillow and settle down.
Don’t worry.
She
will share her embrace
with another.

Stop looking at the phone,
it’s pointless.
Tonight no
 “I love you”
will get you through the night.

Now

No longer
do I look back at the voices holding me back
crying out my name.
I plug my ears
and I
cry out
from the very depths of my soul,
with the ferocity of a storm
in the heart of the sun.
It echoes in the walls of these skyscraping mountains
as it makes its way
up to Olympus,
shaking its very foundation;
Shaking my own foundation.

Not on your earth or heavens
is there a place for me

You’ve grounded me and
I wish the sky was made of glass, so
I could break through it
in my nightly wanders,
in which I search for the days
my heart lost its innocence during,
turning me ancient and grey.

It was all a gamble and I
was doomed to lose from the get go
given the hand you dealt me:
Fire, ice and rage were not a winning combination.

No matter.

Now

I want to start anew, like a sentence after a period
so I’ll start.

Now

Sympathy for a Silent Death

It pains me
how idly we stand by and
apathetically watch
autumn leaves
die
on tree branches

That Is The Question

These days

crows migrate and
finches howl like wolves.
Wires grow out of the ground
and choke flower fields.

and here I am wondering

still

to be, or not to be?

Crushed Between the Distanes

I died yesterday

Like a black suit case
left behind, as you boarded a departing train
leaving, letting the dust off the tracks
glaze my standing corpse.

Suitcases are not a topic of conversation;
they all smell of death and decay.

Yesterday

I was left behind
and got crushed between the distances.

Don’t talk to me of suitcases.

I died yesterday,
and now, I wonder to myself:
how will I manage to bury all my dreams, and
fit them in the grave with me?

I’ve been dead
since you left

yesterday.

Pilgrimage

I walked here
barefoot,
and will do so from here on still.
The naked, blistered soles of my feet
will be my testimony
proof
of my pilgrimage.

You just keep on shining your shoe!

Heavy

I broke.
Throw your piano off the highest floor of a skyscraper
watch it shatter as it hits the ground,
That’s how I broke.
Do you understand?
I was heavy
it cost me
at the end.

Bittersweet

I was intoxicated by the sweetness of your lips,
until
I tasted the bitterness of a tear;

I then realized it was a kiss goodbye.

Cigarettes and Coffee

Leave,

Forget all the moments of being with you
forget all words exchanged, old
or recent
for these words
words
are to be forgot.

Coffee doesn’t taste the same without you.
Instead of ordering for two as usual
now I just order for one.

I’ve stopped ordering drinks that got cold waiting for you.

Pour me another cup
dark
no sugar.
Caffeine
and nicotine
have become substitutes for sugar and honey.
I take a deep
bitter drag of smoke
in memoriam of your absence
and make these blank walls of my room the designated smoking area
of my self-made asylum.

Coffee tastes like my life now

Like shit

Censor out the heaven-like scenes out of life

where Adam falls for Eves’ lies.

Those days are over.

Damn this cold coffee…

Never mind my gibberish doll

This poet is drunk off of the coffee that got cold waiting for you.

Maiden Across The Sea

There is a saying

Left from

 Many and many a year ago

That in a land across the sea

Across the field of stars

Beyond the unmarked graves of anonymous poets,

There lies a book

That has your name written within it,

My maiden.

Soon,
I’ll be setting out to sea.

On The Road

Do you remember

The day you asked me 

“Where does this road go to?”

And I said nothing…

Do you see now? The road didn’t go anywhere,

You did.

The Chain-Smoker in Me

I have never smoked a cigarette in my life,
But for as long as I can remember
I’ve felt someone is smoking
Inside my soul.
Lighting one after another,
Burning and fuming,
Chain smoking,
Killing me,
From within.

Fair Trade

Your house is cold?

I’ll put the sun in an envelope and

Mail it to you.

Reply

By sending me a shooting star

My sky

Is pitch black.

Sigh and Silence

No sound or spoken word
describes you
as does my 

sigh
and silence.

It started when my words where falling short of describing you
when I realized that
the volume of no word could contain you
you gorgeous being.

you
you
you

Who are you?!

Who are you that are beyond words,
yet I can not help but write of you?

Somehow,
I know you.
A to Z.
So much so that 

I fear
I will forget myself.

It’s migration season;
I fly from me
to me.
My head will experience a season of abandonment
as I give my all
to the heart.

No word does you justice

and
when my poetry falls short of describing you
all I can do is

sigh
and then

 
silence. 

Long Dead Chivalry

I take my steps
slowly
cautiously

in fear that they will burn
every bridge you cross
behind your back
men who
later
in my stead
will march
in my boots
besides you.

Kingdom Gone

The barren desert of desolation is here.

Here

Where I stand,

Where you are standing.

Where lays the answer to the question:

“To be or not to be”.

Desolation,

can be found in the cold side of the bed,

or the broken wing of a lonesome dove.

We need to stop

Waiting.

We need to stop wondering about the road not taken.

Shut your eyes

Give them a rest

your longing gaze won’t reach Nirvana.

We need to stop thinking of dreams wasted.

We need to stop dreaming;

For in this land where the sun sets from either side,

Tomorrow,

No Kingdom shall Come.

Hell, Heaven and Salvation

Maybe heaven is nothing
but a smile,
and
the lips that whisper my name;

And salvation,
that momentous moment
when, so intoxicated by her scent
I forget myself

this hell.

Auditory Courage

It wouldn’t take much
for me
to hear your voice.
I
just need to give my ears
some courage…

Go on! Say something
Tonight
the wind will play me
the melody of your voice.