Photography, Art, Writing, Poetry

Month: September, 2012

Fading Out


The shadow glides gently. I forget about time and let go. My hand is cold like the first day. The first feeling of tranquility and of suffering. It’s time to sleep and let be carried and to die a bit while sleeping. The shadow slides over my hand which is almost cold now. It is time to die. In a year I will come back, the air will be warm and the weather clear, I will go and dream by the water. Faded out and born again. Only a memory, that’s what I am.


My Lover


We always wanted to live in truth
But turned away from honesty
We never see the tears we cry
With a blind man’s eye

Now that my love is yours
You are so far away

A Hole under my Feet


I always said that it’s impossible to live and be aware. That’s how ‘I’ began but ‘I’ needed more. The further ‘I’ went, the more ‘I’ needed to imagine other landscapes, other conquests. I am blind on earth but I know the way. The same gestures repeated over and over daily; I know the tastes, the artificial flavors; I am capable of not breathing. My hands don’t grope. I know the way and invented new turns, other landscapes. The further forward I go, the more I must leave my habits behind. So I imagine that things are not as they seem, that my life is changing, that boredom wears off. A hole under my feet appears that I never felt. I can keep on walking because I want more, always more. Nothing serious can ever happen. If I suffer, I could die and suffer will not last. I had to stop my thoughts at night to sleep even I can sleep, thinking of money even though I can work or do anything I want. I had to feel fear to live. But why should I go further in this erroneous dream? The people are blurry, the sea unchained. I find nothing real. Neither that which is striking, nor that which troubles in this aimless mixture where even violence has gone soft. The hard water no longer rips up the dust and truth hides, hides to die as an arbitrary shape in all the glasses of the world, all the seas. The day is running out of breath, and the night, the tide trash builds up in front of my door. Dead time like the blades of a helicopter going up and down, up and down. I wait day and night; the rising tide in front of my door. My feet never get wet, dirty, neither does my head nor my heart.

A Hostile World


Stolen hearts and blinded minds
Man stands against man
In a sea of pain, in a sea of despair
We are alone

Grim eyes, neglected knowledge
Hold life’s prison keys
In front of the gate
Our spirits wander through memories

Never here, never now
The sun behind the clouds
Brothers and sisters
When do we shine upon the sky?

We are waiting for someone to make this feeling right
Until the dark begins to die in another day
But when again the dark unfolds
I feel that something is going wrong

Something inside the mind is twisted
Images burned in our brain
Judge each day and each day judges us
We walk inside the shadow of darkness
With nowhere to run
We just keep denying
Erecting out cross
In anticipation
Of liberation

Internal Suicide


I am but am no more
I closed the chapters
Of my life’s story
I become no more
And no longer live in a world of pain
I ended the apocalypse
Where all is lost
In vain

I burned up from inside
And found the weakness in my soul
No more buried in darkness
I am always there
I will never leave
In thousand dawns to see

Reality will never be enough
In a thousand years
In a million years
Our beloved phantasy
Will never die
Creating new punishments
Falling into the abyss

This is our home
This is our temple
Armageddon every day
All in its way is bound for death

Diabolic dances into dust
-Our eternal punishment-
Souls surrounded with a crust
In this place of sin and blood
Until the hallucinations of the day
Will pass away
I pray

Restless I Wander


Black emptiness surrounds me. A chill drips silently. Everything becomes a naked experience in a world that is addicted to fiction. Collective insanity, anxious, boredom at unease, identity lost in pseudo-needs – produced labels.; ‘Never Enough’ fuels the engine of shallow satisfaction. Profit is the only blind aim pursued with total ruthlessness. The masses are the mirror-reflection of The One – behind bars.; the lifeless objects to be used, then discarded, and finally disposed on the landfills of greed and power – the lawmakers. Hungry ghosts label, price and consume the pieces of dead meat from the shelves of corporations – corruption.
Loneliness has filled me. Robbed of my imagination, my creativity, the ability to think and act for myself, I want to stop the waiting for nothing.
With no home and no exit in sight, knowing it’s just an illusion, I wander with the masses to find … find? …
My spirit is calling; my soul is crying; my shadow is weeping. But one day when hopes and fears passes, I close my eyes and after the dark, I know, the earth will take me back, and knead and shape me into something else – a tree, a bird, or even a cloud – but please not into me again.

Only a memory. That’s what I am.

I am a veil between tomorrow and yesterday, a changing image, I do not exist. In my dreams I foresee what I lost, something that I never had, something that was never like an immutable body, a fragment of eternity, a tireless summer. I am only passing by, I carry in me the death of every moment, I do not really exist.