of a Starry Night

Walking barefoot on sand towards new unrecognizable sounds
which seem to hide behind the waves disguised as emptyness
whom like the moon,
hides behind the clouds of the darkest sky.
New sounds, empty sounds.
Not the sounds that I've longed to hear for so long,
Just watered down versions of a Starry night under a bridge.
A starry night painted on the canvas of Life
Ready to be discarded and painted over.

About Silence and Words

One coin, two faces to show

Both as different as night and day

Latent repetitions of things lacking that didn´t come to fruition

Because of omissions and misunderstandings of words

…and silence.

Words that pave the way to the promise land.

A promise land in forms of pancakes, art films and late-night infomercials

A once attainable dream which slips away

Because of silence

…that silence.

Silence that drowns the words

Words that shatter into nothingness once they lose their meaning

And all that is left is silence … empty mutterings no one gets

Words of silence shouting, screaming for someone to hear them,

a silence that shouldn´t be.

Letters from beyond the Bay

Leaving hurts. At some deep level I thought was beyond my emotional capabilities, I felt a knot in my stomach and a lump in my throat. It´s hard to say good bye to people even though you know you might see them again not too far into the future; especially, if those people are your close relatives.  Yeah, and leaving friends behind is no picnic either. I have barely been away for two days and I miss them already.  I miss those weekends at the rock that won´t happen; or those camping trips that I enjoy so much.  But that´s the way life is I guess.  We make choices and then we get to rip the benefits of those choices.  There is no turning back now; I’m more than a thousand kilometers away from home… Then again, maybe I am home… who knows. I guess life will let me know.  In the meantime though, I´ll be here, writing letters from beyond the bay.

Greener Grasses

I never dream of greener grasses when darkness falls upon me

and the stillness of the night is so unbearable that a mere cricket chirp

sounds like the ninth symphony.

I never dream of greener grasses when the storms flood the path to safety

And my only escape is a piranha infested pond.

And I definitely never dream of greener grasses when the possibility to make something happen

Is nonexistent and the only sane thing to do is give up.

I never dream of greener grasses, I just sit and wonder

Wait and ponder, take my time and explore ideas,

Grand ideas of bigger things to come.

I never dream of greener grasses for I know mornings will come,

Waters will recede and sanity, sanity is highly overrated…Greener grasses will grow

 whether I dream about them or not.  

Of Cheese and Dogs

     I finally got it.  Life shouldn't be like this.  Not everything is dark and gloomy; and it's definitely not about how much you can sulk without feeling sick to your stomach.  Life is unfair sometimes -- Granted! But letting the unfairness of it dictate our lives is, plainly stated, just stupid.  Throughout our stay on earth, bad things are bound to happen, and it's not because you deserve it--most of the time anyway--but just because we're here.  The universe is not out to get you, it has better things to do than to mess around with you. So trying to blame someone for something in particular for our misfortunes, is like trying to blame a mouse for eating a piece of cheese left on the floor for two straight days.  If we live long enough, things are bound to happen--good and bad.  I hadn't really grasped that idea until recently, not until the cheese was gone and the mouse ended up getting eaten by my dog.  That was my epiphany.  We are all mice; at times, the universe loses a piece of cheese that we happen to stumble upon, and sometimes, well, the dogs just happen to get loose.

Midnight delusions (repost)

3 and counting....tic tac tic tac...sounds of the neverstopping clock 

resound in my head...an image, a face is pictured inside my brain...

smiles  produced by the sound of one word and miles of empty space 

lie in between the specters who dwell so far appart that only the moon

touching the sun could be more real...3 and counting...tic tac tic tac...

sounds of the neverstopping clock. 

without recolection

I can’t write.  I can’t write about something i have no recolection of

A walk through the Woods where time stood still and

A waterfall that was the background to the beginning of

A story  that ended prematurely.

I can’t speak. I can’t speak about unfinished culinary projects

Red wine and italian food as starters for amazing nights and

 Desserts that came to be due to

lots of imagination and desire.

I can’t smell.  I can’t smell bouquets of flowers

Lilies and tulips that were never sent and

Chocolates which should have been eaten

Just to stop other cravings

And I can’t Imagine. I can’t imagine a life where

Woods and waterfalls didn’t evoke an image of beauty and

Wine and deserts didn’t bring out  flavours of perfection and

Tulips and chocolates didn’t create a scent of  perpetuity.

But l can’t write nor speak about any of it… I have no recolection.