Saturday, February 25, 2006


a poem
is an act of love
of desperation
of hope
and betrayal
poetry places the truth
in the mind of the planet
in the hearts
of those who listen
in the souls
of those who read it
poetry is
an intermission
of understanding
a knowledge of fire
a birth of reality
a way of light
poetry is survival

my dear estranger

okay, last call
like the barkeeps like to say
one last test run before i let this baby
know what i made of
let’s try to use the punctuations marks
of the life i never knew
i know how to love
in different languages
in glances and smiles
i can write without ink
and without words
that’s right darling
i can make little children
with no touch whatsoever
So you decide
if you want to meet me
in the corner of
your curious mind
i only have sweet warnings for you
because pain is something enchanting
if you are one of those creatures
please stay away
because the road of addiction
always ends in heartbreak
and i know you heart
is not made of glass
it is more like pottery
or should i say poetry?
whatever the case may be
this is not a playground
the art of death
is not frivolous
so then my dear estranger
think it over
real hard and deep
because tomorrow might become
like a laughing monster
by your luxurious bedside
maybe you should go home
and be with your family
broken as it is
but non the less
something very special to you
i will give you a kiss
with my eyes
before i grow weary
from any kind of defense

Wednesday, February 22, 2006


The beauty
Of the dim light
Shines in the memories
In the essence of our souls
Like floating petals
In the water of our youth
Playing for hours
In the fountains of love
The melting candles
Still alive
In our hearts


I played my guitar
The bathtub
Embraced your precious body
The flames on the candles
Danced in the dark
And I sang your song

Queen of my heart
I love you so much
Your are like the
Open sky
Where angels fly
Your smile is
Brighter than the sun
Better than any star
Your beauty has no equal
You’re better than a miracle

Then you wrote me
The most beautiful poem ever
I knew then
I should take a bath

Tuesday, February 21, 2006


I decided to go
Like the
Owners of this continent
Or like the biblical prophets
Like Sampson
Like Geronimo
Like a Starets
Like Sitting Bull
Like the guys
With the guitars
Under the spot lights
Like Jesus Christ
And His cousin
John the Baptist
And the HR rep
Said he would give me
A job
But the problem was
This was not
A model agency
So I walked away
On the beach
And wrote songs
And poems
Wrote the
Story of
My own life