Literature, Poem, poetry

The Wife and the Vampire

the stupid schizophrenic wife
thought that somebody has loved her

you deserve it deserve it what happened to you
you brought it all on yourself you stupid brat

she had empathy for a psychopath
she though he was like her

lost and abandoned in l.a

she thought he was a friend
a soul connection – he said

a vampire on the night bench

putting a hand under her skirt

in chilly autumn

but the night was exceptional
the moon perfectly shaped and staged

for the story which was about to unfold

she felt sorry for him
such a sweet lonely guy

just like her

foreigner in London

was he scheming already

how to lead her to crime?

who knows
what a stupid
schizophrenic bird-brained somebody’s wife

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fake relity, falseness, literature, Literature, london, love, marriage, passion, Poem, poetry, religion

The Verge

If I could understand why my mind sways
why it is not satisfied with surface existence
creating mystery and mischief
illegalities
why it is not real in spiritual emptiness
why it needs danger and complications
adventures on the London bridge
the night
the kiss
on the verge of the Tamise

why
can’t it concentrate deeply
on cooking in the domestic cauldron
why my mind
flies
to your lips

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Literature, poems, poetry, Uncategorized

This state is deep like a well

This state is deep like a well
long like an underground tunnel

going back in time

decades, centuries

it’s not my fault

not my creation

it’s there

it’s a historical malady
nothing to do with me

I’m just a medium

in my head

decoding it

cleaning my books

the library

magical escape

it’s always a good potion

through the garden of insanity
full of roses
painted blue
it’s dark in the frozen castle

I want to be outside

in the red rose garden
in the sun with
me
a teenager

red hair
white skirt
that’s the real me
in my head

before the darkness engulfed

put everything into the grave

with a cross
on it
how deadly
I don’t want to be the black raven
I don’t want to see the pit
smell the myrrh
please, take it away from me

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betrayal, children, Culture, friendship, gangsters, hate, Literature, love, peace, Poem, poems, poetry, politics, unity, war

This is a war, honey – what a shame.

It was a dream about us being those special sandpit friends

in a nice love-unity

and joy

of building something

together

without hitting each other with a spade on the head

and scheming to destroy your underground tunnels

when everything seemed to go great

conspiring with the district gang

how to win over me

I had a dream of us being different then them

But those things are impossible

how could I forget that you are the only child

all this mistrust

and

ego trips

I retreat

to the very end of the park

to talk with the sunshine instead

and play with pebbles and dirt

but then

the anger at your murderous betrayal

hits me

so

I

watch you and your gang

delaying my revenge

don’t you think I forgot

about hate

not yet

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poetry

TOUGH

But you mine, I think so, tak…

if we were in a paradise…

love and art

but there is a war on

soldier

you better move on

love

you better move on!

kiss and breath

flowers and guns

miss you too much

too much

amazing

this in love feeling is

too much

he said

and she smiled

You conquered

she said

climbing on him

on the bench

in the central park.

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Dark moods, literature, Literature, Poem, poetry, Uncategorized

ELECTROCUTION

ELECTROCUTION

It all it’s over now
my sister is dead and so are you
a dead year of dead friends and lovers
I give up
what plans are for if all can burst in a short electrical blast
what love is for
for the dead and for the dead-alive
your deadness feels worse then hers sometimes
because it stings
and burns like a double electrocution
a double offence
my cursed name
the terrifying autumn is coming
without you in it
I thought I would survive all the windy glooms
but now she is dead
and you are worse than that
I feel your spitefulness and fake guilt
your phone call after she died

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Dark moods, hypocrisy, Johad, Literature, london, love, Poem, poems, poetry, politics, Uncategorized

JIHAD in Barnet

 

You need to understand me
you are just a white whore
you, and your yoga pornography
I hear it everyday
It’s not my fault
That’s how it is
I am a man
34
I can import myself a young Asian from abroad
and teach her how to behave
at 50 or so one day                                                                                                                        when I get a job
I’m an attractive man
and you
I can have you when I feel like it
I am a man
you need to understand me
I am a man
and you are a white whore
what is love
I really don’t know
I fear you might expose me
you will ruin my name
I have already told everyone and my mother
that you are dangerously insane
like princess Diana and all the white whores
hungry for mediterranean men

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Art, Dark moods, Literature, love, passion, Poem, poems, poetry, Uncategorized

Midnight, too late to go home

what is love a compassion a connection of souls at the bottom of existence
why do you need any more explanations
the ability to see yourself in the other bum
without judgement
last passion insanity of the senses
despite the darkness of the park where all this is happening
in the night
in secrecy
dirty love lust
you can call it that
but for me this is life
this is a beautiful encounter
of truth
without the world and day coming into it and spoiling
our secret forbidden love
with broken heels and lost iPhones
in the trees of passion
eternal under the British sky
who cares if they judge us
it is us its ours its our love our need our compassion
the bitches with masculine harsh words
and the successful machos
who cares
why can’t we die in those leaves
but happy on this bench at midnight

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Dark moods, Literature, love, peoms, Poem, poems, poetry, Uncategorized

Stepping down into the darkness of light

Sometimes I think :  take this gun from that wall and fire it out
out of boredom to shoot this glass
sylvia plath hedda gabler
hedda gabler sylvia plath

it is all so slow and draining
the snow is raining

i had hope for everything now it is gone
i want the words to be like leafs convoluted and wild
exotic plants

and you
a heavy being I can’t live without
but don’t know what to do with
the childhood is gone
and now
the long days going to autumn
the road in the park muddy
i am slowing down
what happened

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