…as time flies fast – unless GOD cuts its wings.
But then time seems to simply start to run
out of space. Time sometimes only brings
slow-motion sighing from the setting sun.
Yes, time can heal; but time can also kill
like a wind blowing out candles. When a rain-
storm starts, you feel all you can feel until
you come to find out if it is in vain…
…as time flies fast – unless GOD cuts its wings. But then time seems to simply start to run out of space. Time sometimes only brings slow-motion sighing from the setting sun. Yes, time can heal; but time can also kill like a wind blowing out candles. When a rainstorm starts, you feel all you can feel until you come to find out if it is in vain…
January 2004
…around a parking lot
of words that may be not
there. You need some more
time for another chance
to understand why no war
of words makes any sense.
When the stars leave the sky,
sometimes it starts to drown
in the dark rising high
enough to erase a town.
Always obeying the Will
of GOD, things go still…
…around a parking lot of words that may be not there. You need some more time for another chance to understand why no war of words makes any sense. When the stars leave the sky, sometimes it starts to drown in the dark rising high enough to erase a town. Always obeying the Will of GOD, things go still…
December 2004
…which sounds and smells like looks
can be deceptive to taste.
They differ in different books.
Many words go to waste.
The present becomes the past
whereas the future is clear
only to GOD. Your last
chance to defeat your fear
may be right now. Or may-
be some other time. Regret
is of the past. One day
you may get what they get.
Pain and pleasure, of course,
are of the present, like joy.
Sorrow tries to destroy
everything that is, was
and will be. A night sky
speaks to an empty street.
Say hallo, then goodbye,
hoping that you will meet
again after another night.
You are getting ahead
of yourself. Out of sight,
you live in your own head
as if it was a room
or an entire block
of flats. Haunted by gloom,
you dwell on top of a clock
tower of ivory or
whatever you think it is
you can see in the freeze
frame of your mind. A door-
way leads both ways: outside
and inside. There’s another
doorway where you can hide,
getting farther and farther
away. Under the bruised
sky in the afterglow,
a multitude of unused
rain clouds crawl in slow
motion to turn on the black
coffee machine of the night
and then maybe come back
in coffee-black or milk-white…
