A Pencil

Posted: May 20, 2013 in Thoughts

This forbidden galaxy is no more
This mind of mine will find no shore
This heart in me is purple to the core
I am not you, you are not you anymore

“I thought you hated rhyming in poetry, how come? ” She frowned.
“Oh my dear, ever since that crystal ball was broken, the gates of hell were opened to all form of contradictions, the shattered crystal killed so many of them, the men in me”
“What about the psychology of survival?”
“The survival of what?”
“Of What is left of you…” 
“In me you mean”, I said, trying to hide a very blue smile, I turned my head and looked outside the window… To a universe of possibilities. 

We are always afraid of what we do not know.
And I do not know me anymore, not this version of me, not ever. 
I closed my eyes for a little while and thought of defeated armies and burnt ships.
Thought of soldiers without souls, paving the way to the arrival of codes and symbols.
I opened my eyes and saw her face covered with numbers and human blood.
I opened my eyes and saw her body covered with words, that she claims only I can write. 

“Who are the men who died in that war my dear?” She whispered. 
“Oh quite a few, and an animal” 
“The Poet?” 
“The Artist?” 
“The Commander?” 

That army was never lead by a commander of any sort, she just needed to throw another character hoping he would still be alive. 

The soldiers were dead before we went to war
And she will never understand
For she thinks that the moment I close the door
Of the night, the sky shines in her hand
She does not know that the rivers are running sore
That some Myths do not know of a  final curtain
But to win you need to fight no more
And of this a Poet is surely certain. 
There is no more darkness in my mines of Ore
The life and death of this mirror is uncertain.

“Go back to your senses, not the ones they implanted in you; You denied a whole religion before, though it was followed by millions, and you were convinced that no matter how they outnumber us, we know better… Go back to your senses and understand that no matter how they outnumber me, I know better; and your defenses are just sleeping pills that can kill you” I yelled at her. 

“No one is dead then… I am just outside the castle” She said as she dried a tear. 

The poet threw his pencil in shock.
The Artist was searching for a dry canvas.  
I left in silence, knowing that the soldiers were without a soul.
And beside me walked an animal, undefeated.


Of Birds And Stones

Posted: May 13, 2013 in Thoughts

“I see you still have that manacle around your heart, does it hurt?”
I had no idea what she was talking about, I always thought the manacle was part of me, I was born with it and never felt that I can take it off!!

The midnight was collecting itself, I gazed into the glass that separated me from her, the eerie silence was devouring my thoughts; I started feeling my chest, the chain was made of some kind of metal…
“Silver I’d say”, She was reading my thoughts again.
“You and I always sit in awkward reticence” I said, knowing that she will disregard what I said.
“Or is it white gold?”
“As long as it keeps my chest from bursting”
“Your days always end in eternity, you never change”
“But eternity cannot be reached, and no it is not silver, it is flesh”

I often change my point of view about birds and stones
I often change my point of view about dreams and bones
I often follow the fine line that allowed me to gain
I often follow the fine line to save her soul again

“I will not bother your moonlight”… My voice was embroiled with guilt.
“Your blood is running solid and blue”
“Even my rapid eye movement is freezing”

I was not frigid
And there is no frost inside my veins
And those winds that are drifting by are not snowy
And I am not dead

The manacle was the biggest sign of a pain that I have been nourishing all my life. Like a bird in a cage, like a stone in the corner of my house, like a dream I kept on crazily believing, like a bone I broke when I was a kid.

The manacle was the fine line, the periphery of my heart, the heart that was lost.
The night was still waiting for the dawn to collect itself.

“Are you attending the funeral of your friend?”
She asked me with a smile.
“No, I will not be able to see him being killed twice, by the same woman”.

The Irony Of An Iron Heart

Posted: March 31, 2013 in Thoughts

.Keep your eyes on the circle

The perimeter is a line,
made of dust and drops of wine.
The disk is of thunder, dry flesh and blood that’s mine.

The floor was dry of everything, there were some small cracks, no one was a hero; yet.
“Are you going to show me around?”
What did she want to see? I could not even move an eyelid to look at her.

It is not bad being controlled by the ringing of a miracle’s bell, it is just depressing to know that you can actually hear it.
I was supposed to get up, open the door and smile. But there was no door.
“You definitely could use a door here!!!”
As if she would knock. Everything metal was melting, at absolute Zero. Why was I so cold!!!
“It is the night my dear, there must be a window to let the moonlight in”
She laughed.
I moved my eyelids.
“Haven’t you noticed that the circle is gone?” I threw a lie at her.

She used to turn very beautiful when I lie to her; And this time she was more beautiful than ever!
She felt that I was running from myself, but was moving so fast that the pressure of time was changing the shape of my heart. And the circle was getting tighter, No one could breathe.

“No, the circle is right here, you and I are inside it”
My lungs were so heavy.
I was starting to remember that I could cry.
My tears were so cold, or was it my skin?

She looked at the ceiling and started sighing. She knew I was dead.
She was clinically alive.

Ego Reader

Posted: March 30, 2013 in Thoughts

“No, you cannot read my mind”
.Said I, I was worried she would. She was worried she would
.She was worried she would read a truth that could destroy her ego
.I was worried that it could destroy mine

We think alike, think aloud… Never think at all, I was just orbiting the center of my own misery; without her.
She sat there and watched me contradicting everything about my whole existence; an existence she knew too well, as if she wrote the fate, defied it and then wrote it again; I just wanted to protect her from what I thought was the biggest mistake of her life.  And this was contradictory to every breath, life, mistakes and whatever was happening inside that room.

I was about to faint when she stood and said the truth, and the contrary of it.
“No, they did not destroy me, I destroyed me… Look at my hands, my eyes!!!”
She looked away; she did not want to believe that faith moved the mountain, because she knew I was not myself. I was dead.

She was trying to read the mind of a carcass.

My mistake was that I trusted the unknown.
I thought the thick air around me would be flexible enough to vibrate and send my thoughts out to the depth of her mind, but she was already out.
“Out is where you are now”, I mumbled.
And what is “Out”?
Is it some sort of a new schizophrenia that I am facing?
Is it a new light that was blessed to shine on me, alone?
Is it outside my lungs? I am not breathing.
Is it outside my heart? It is not beating.
It is only outside my mind… And you are reading.

Schizophrenic Planet

Posted: April 24, 2012 in Thoughts

“You are as perfect as a pyramid of Diamond, she is as deformed and black as Coal”
“Why did your fingers choose her then?”

She was staring at me, trying to decipher my smile…
My silence was so loud that her ears started to bleed, I turned to her and said:
“Blood always says the truth, wounds can never lie; why did you kill her?”
“ I did not… I was trying to wake you up because you were screaming her name”
“And yours…”
“Not mine anymore…”
I was astonished by her will to fight me; I was lost in a Maze of my creation; I finally gave life to my strongest nightmares, and there she is sitting in front of me, confronting me, empowering me.
And beautiful she was…
And amazed I am, by the sunset that was sleeping in her eyes.
And beautiful she was…
And amazed I am, by the forests that were hiding in her mind.
And beautiful she was…
And amazed I am, by the dreams that were forming on her lips.
And beautiful she was, and amazed I am.
I kept losing the war, one battle at a time, one army at a time, one breath at a time… Until she defeated time and sent me to my nightmares again…

“Coal and Diamond, and you managed to kill her? Or was it my life you ended?”
“That was not my name anymore, you were destined to wake up”
She looked at my chest and said sarcastically:
“There is only a useless bloody cavity in here”
“And wounds never lie, read the graffiti on my soul”
“You never believed in the existence of the soul, you were born dead”
“I was raised dead, and you raised from the dead ~ I found you there”
“And her”
“She created us, dead”
“ I did not kill her, I only wake you up”
“From within myself”

A thin layer of snow was forming on my eyelids; The light that passed through the cold crystals started to break my illusions and move my unconsciousness one step closer to reality, as if all creation was out of focus at the moment of the big bang and now started to take form.
“I never knew you were this beautiful naked”
“But you’ve seen me a thousand times”… She said as I gently touched her spine…
She turned all red; imagine the surface of the moon changing colors…
“Kiss my eyes” … I begged
“I am afraid my lips will get used to your tears”
“Kiss my eyes”
“Only if you show me your palm, I want to see her… The black Coal”
“I never knew you were this beautiful with your masks on”
“The black Coal”… She stressed and kissed my eyes, my silver tears were frozen, she defeated time.
I opened my hand.
She kissed my palm.
I opened my hand.
She closed her eyes.
“You are the surgeon of my soul” I whispered.
“You do not believe in me, you were born and raised dead”
“I will show you the black Coal, open your eyes”
“I am too scared to meet myself”
“I am too scared to meet both of you”

“Why did your fingers choose her then?”
“She is deformed, you are perfect”
“Break all the mirrors please, they keep saying the truth”
“She is deformed”
“I am perfect”
“I was born dead”
“And I will rise”

And she was beautiful.
And I was screaming her name; it’s not yours anymore.

That I was Soulless

Posted: April 11, 2012 in Thoughts

She smiled.

The hourglass I dearly imprisoned in my chest was full of dreams ; was it the fractals in her eyes?
“Pass me your soul”  She giggled; “Literally?” I asked 

The dawn was breaking, I could barely breathe, my lungs were full of Autumnal sand.

She picked up a few old papers that were left in the corner of my mind… “that’s sad!!! Your mind is full of them!!!”
She read the first poem, the second, the thirteenth…

“What do you want my soul for?”…
“Search for a Northern light inside the darkness of day. follow the moments as they travel through your veins, and free  the hours from your prison”… She wanted me out of my skin forever…

The dawn was breaking, so was my Autumnal heart.
I implanted my smile into her chest; “Pass me your soul”… She never knew…

“You do know the world is flat don’t you?”, she said as I tried to build a smile out of last night’s ruins.
Calm like a storm, sitting there in my marble garden, she was the only witness on the creation of my universe…

“I know you can turn my thoughts into a world of your own”, I replied with my tired voice. The war of a thousand centuries, since I met her smile, created in me an empty view of a forgotten sunset, of a time when my colors were her black and white, of a place where her grey was the only sky I know…

“I do remember you, but I do not know you”
She arranged a laugh and looked at me, “You don’t know if you know me or not” She said.

I enjoyed being a planet in her system; my only dilemma was that she defeated all laws of physics that mankind managed to invent in order to overcome her rage; the distance to her was always balanced by the void in her shades of mood and the coincidences of time travel!

Her body, made of words, briefed the history of conflicting galaxies and the wars of minds and hearts; I asked her who wrote the story of my life on the palm of her hand… “I created the words that are you”.
She allowed me to read, maybe ordered me to read, from the pages of her skin until I lost notion of my existence and became one with every tale, of every curve and every sigh. A Chapter, a page, a word, a letter – Until I arrived here.

“Yes the world is flat indeed” I cried as I sunk in the abyss of her ink…

Then she stood, gathered her papers and pens, looked at my grave and smiled…
Last night when she buried me here, I noticed there are many other graves of marble planted on the final page of her book –

“Are we all flat?”  she mumbled as I turned the page.