Ziduri

Puteti vorbi dulceag, puteti vorbi amar,
Puteti aduce briza-n sori si lacrima-n cuvant.
Am sa graiesc doar surd, ca un strengar,
Cuvinte mute de trecut in vant.

Puteti elibera stihii far` de masura
In pacea dintre noi care-a durat prea mult.
Caci n-am sa ma ridic sa va graiesc cu ura
Si n-am sa fac din hula strai si nici din razbunare cult.

Impletesc...

Nu stii sa impletesti cuvinte
Ca sa seduci sabinele vulgare.
Saruta slova-n putrezi legaminte,
Saruta-ti indelung aducerile-aminte,
Sabinele-ti vor plange la picioare.

Iar cu-mpletitul meu, batran senil,
Sa-l lasi sa-ti impleteasca uneori,
Suvite-albastre-n cadru pueril,
Cu ata alba din trecut febril
Si umbra calda-n zdrente de splendori.

Pain

As days go by my hunger grows stronger. As days go by I`m loosing my focus more and more due to the extraordinary need, desire or... will that covers my consciousness. I have done something stupid that broke my chain of evolution: I have spoken of the hunt, and now my lips are permanently dry, my thirst grows, I have stopped feeling and started wanting. My eyes came back to the hawk condition, because everywhere I look I see preys. I know, actually I am very sure I am not ready to hunt. My abilities are not back yet, my certainty is still far lost into the darkness of logic. I dream pure blood going along with lifeless eyes. I can`t focus, I have to focus to restrain myself. I have to stop or innocence will suffer again, and again... and again, till there is no innocence left in this world. I am a killer, I am born a killer, I am designed to kill. I feel no purpose in this nice, peaceful life. I am a killer. I will never try to change myself into a lamb. I have never been a lamb and lying myself has been my greatest mistake. Now what remains to be seen is if my need of belonging is stronger than my thirst.

Revedere

Plouat-au lacrimi multe, mute,
Din ochii orbi de-asa iubire.
Si-a nins cu aripi frante si-ascutite,
Peste carari, in cimitire.

Trezeste-ma cand vrei sa ma saruti,
Si-am sa m-asez pe un mormant
Cu crini din mortaciuni nascuti,
Ca sa primesc al tau cuvant.

Nu stiu de-am sa astept o vesnicie,
Strigoi sunt eu, asa am fost o viata.
Iubesc, urasc, respir in agonie,
Creez, distrug, ador cu sufletul de gheata.

Nu stiu a spune cum, sau cat de mult,
Nu stiu sa fac, sa chem, sa zbier,
Dar stiu ca vreau, doresc, ascult,
Implor, ma rog, sau sufar in eter.

Te rog, ba nu, implor nu stiu sa ce,
Dar nu pleca din nou, sau pleaca!
Ba stai, dar nu prea mult, amice.
Amice, stai! Dorinta ca sa-mi treaca.

Dorinta e? Sau doar tagada si pacat?
Ia spune-mi tu, ce e in mintea mea?
Trecutul sec, ce huiduie stacat,
Sau soare crud ce rade-n zeflemea?

Precar mi-e totul si-usor penibil,
Sa iti vorbesc doar, si atat.
Mi-e frica sa observ ce e lizibil.
Si ma opresc sperand ca e mai mult.

Mi-e versul sur, mi-e sunetul sinistru,
Nu cred ca sunt cuvinte ca sa-ti spun,
Si nu mai stiu decat s-articulez buiestru
Si-n rime usor-comerciale sa apun.

Puzzles Of Life

In over 3 thousand years of life one can never expect what life or death may offer. I have no idea how I started to leave or when I started to die. I may never know the true answer to that, despite the fact they say that if you find the root, you will be able to cut the problem off. Sometimes I remember my father sitting down at his desk, watching me over his glasses. My father is not young, like my step father. He`s old, I may even say that he`s a walking encyclopedia. I have never find one single question to give him trouble. I am also able to say that he has lived his life pretty much to the max, as any respected cancer would do in his shoes: three wives, two daughters and lots of wine and women. Sometimes I even admire him for being a cynical concerning people. Sometimes it is good to ignore people, or their opinion, exactly like he had done most of his life. I think I am born either in the wrong place in universe, or in the wrong time, because all I can see is a permanent change into worse. I`m not saying that my father is a role model, not at all. On the contrary, I might say he was among the worst of his time. But comparing what has been with what it is happening nowadays, I am able to say that my father is the most educated, wise, smart, polite son of a bitch I`ve ever met. Why? I have no idea why. Actually I do: we are going in the wrong direction... all of us. That wouldn`t be a problem, if I still found nice things to comment on, or to look upon. But every day when I look around I get scared first of what I see, and second, that I may someday become what I see.
To create an own small universe is very difficult. Leaving that universe is even more difficult. Starting a new one based on security and stability is, maybe, the most difficult target. So I came to respect strong people. Pity they have become rare birds in the flux of life. Being a prisoner of material life sucks big time. Becoming a prisoner of material life sucks more. Acknowledging it is agonizing, at least for me. Freedom is one luxury very few people afford. I am not free. I am caught in the middle of the waterfall. I want out and I am aware that I will never be able to get out and create. My words sometimes become mute and corny. I feel them corny and I can`t change them, no matter how hard I fight with myself. Tendencies of reacting to daily competition distract me from what I was supposed to do. I can`t find my place, I can`t find myself in all that. That`s how I know I don`t belong here, or now. I can`t find any honor or truth in what I live. There must be something else, something more than eyes can meet. To cry for the country is noble, to die for the country is the highest honor one may ask from God.

Alfa & Omega

Te-ai gandit vreodata,
ganduri ceva mai consistente...
decat hartia creponata?
Ai contopit in tine,
iubiri, amar, venin, orgolii si uri,
sa simti pe limba veninul
unei grotesti picturi,
pe care-o vezi intr-o oglinda,
incepand de la tine insuti,
pana la ultima grinda
a celei mai neinsemnate fapturi?

Bufon al lumii proiectate
de tine, tot in tine,
te crezi tu oare
vreo Mafalda, galanta,
isteata si in stele cititoare,
ca sa ghicesti al omului soroc?

Dar deh... nu pot sa neg,
C-ador al eului intreg
ce-l regasesc in aroganta ta...
Cu timpul poate, am sa inteleg
acea proiectie pe care-o vezi
in tine doar, caci restul lumii
Ii pustiu de ea...

Missing The Observer

Last few days some things took place, I was rather speechless regarding behaviours, lack of consciousness, or education. I am in the difficult situation of not knowing how to react towards certain things going on in my life. I have the strong feeling of going away and write, sleep, write, watch, laugh, and then write again. I also find myself in the unfortunate situation of not being understood, specially regarding the previous mentioned aspect. I`m afraid to talk about it with anyone, family included. I need my observer status back. I desperately need it, in order to fill in what`s missing, in order to let the word create less enthusiastic symphonies about how things are around me.

I don`t have time to write as much as I used to do, and that gives me the most frustrating feeling ever. I can`t quit, I need the money to survive. I wake up every morning intoxicated with phrases and words, but with no time to put them down. All I`ve got left is the hope that one sweet day, all this stupid system that we`re living in will be gone. And some of us will learn how to... love the universe, of course, each of us in our unique way.

Maybe one day man will learn how to indulge himself with the pleasure of knowledge, experience and adventure. Maybe...

Easy Way, Easy Thinking, Easy Choices

We love them, because they belong to us. They are cute when they are young. They look upon us as if we are their Gods. And we are. They trust us, we grow to trust them, we learn to love them. But not more than our own confort allows us to. We pet them when we feel like doing it, not when they need us. At least not always. We often speak greatly about their noble behaviour, about their unique intelligence, we appreciate their loyalty.

But we never judge our loyalty towards them, or towards other beings. When they grow old, they become burdens. They suddenly become too many, too demanding. Their treatments are too expensive. Their souls cost too much. It`s nice when they great us at the door, waving their tales, eyes full of hope and joy. But we are always too tired to take them out, or to play with them.

Now that they are old, they are suddenly too many. They know it, so they gradually disappear into dark corners of the house, trying not to bother us with their small needs. At the end one question remains to be asked: are we entitled to call ourselves intelligent beings?

Ali Baba

Mi-e fara soare-n par si in simtire,
Strain si-albastru-verde duh in devenire.
Respir caldut-racoare-n lampa de arama,
Si-admir cadanele-n salvari ce se destrama.

Privesc haremul cum mi-apasa scoarta,
In dansuri moi sau tari, mustind a viata.
Imi chinui cugetul ca sa-nteleg menirea
Acelora ce-mi macina si usca firea.

Seraiul mi-e-n emotii smaraldii-albastre,
Si ninge timpul peste lampile sihastre,
Ce-mi multumesc cu duhuri albicioase
In versuri sure si in rime de pucioase

Ca le-am tot stors destinul crud din vene
Ca sa-mi hranesc dorintele perene
Cu samburi dulci de amagiri si lacrimi,
Palate-nalte de dureri si patimi.

Terminator Salvation

Ok... just finished seeing the movie. Not that I didn`t expect a full demonstration of robots and special effects, because I did. I didn`t expect Christian Bale (check out The Machinist or Equilibrium) to have such a poor role. No, I didn`t expect one of the main characters to be invincible, allmighty, etc. But I truely believe that his character was poor. Why? Well... always speaking in low voice? That was not cool. Always against the odds? Not cool again. Always having the best ideas? Etc, etc etc.

Ok, Marcus was a lil` better, though the "half man-half machine" part mixed with all the human crap doesn`t work, logically, with the "resetting" a chip, input in his head. I`m not even talking about him taking that chip out from his head all by himself. I am not going to comment indefinitely on how a GOOD scifi movie should be. I am not going to comment on the logical basis of appointing one frakking character to be a machine, but then, you choose to humanize it for the sake of one pussy and the whole american (no capital for "american") public.

What I know for sure is that Arnold Schwarzenegger and Robert Patrick are the best two terminators. Why? Well... I guess everybody saw the 1st two parts. I guess everyone understood what a "steel" behaviour means.

Conclusion: YES, it is a must see movie, just to fully taste effects and high-tech production. The way they have chosen to play the story? Poor. Except effects and the story, I have ignored almost everything.

Feelings Belong To The Universe

Have you ever considered that feelings are pretty much the same for everybody? Anyway, that`s a long talk, and I am not in the mood. But this is something to watch....

New Life...

... I`ve waited for so long, hoping that one sweet day the sun would show his fat face on my street too. And it did. Today it`s the day the sun started to shine again. Now it is all up to me, up to my strength. Because during all this time I have discovered that I am all alone. No one REALLY cares, and till now I have found no one knows the meaning of total commitment. Neither in friendship, nor in love... nowhere. No one knows how to love... completely, with no personal purpose and specially with no pride. I do... I am not perfect. But I know how to love, both friends and men. My problem is all the pain that I feel every single time when each (so-called) friend that I`ve got judges me, or insults me, or whatever. They think I don`t know... but I do. And it hurts like hell they believe I am so stupid that I can`t understand when they cheat me... or lie to me.

I know I am not their friend, but they are my friends. So despite I am going to be hurt each time when they will try to fool me, again and again, I will continue to love them.

For all that matters...

... no more mrs. Nice Blowjobing

Social Status

I have just found out that this shit matters. It really does. I have also found out that social status makes people heartless and stupid. I know that most of the excuses for failure sound like "it doesn`t matter what people think about you", or "it doesn`t matter what you are as long as you consider yourself worthy". I know there are no perfect people. There are no better people and worse people. All of us are in the way that human mind receives information, based on educational and cultural level.

Now... why whould I say that social status, as a basis-concept of criteria makes people stupid? Well, something very strange happened to me. A couple of days ago I`ve met with my oldest, best friends. I was happy just to see them, as we haven`t got the chance to meet for a long time. We ended up discussing what we have been doing, and other usual stuff.

I found out disrespect has the most peculiar sources: social stamps. It`s normal for people to judge other people. Yet I find it not normal the supreme judgment. I am not going to do that with them, I continue to respect them for what they are, for what they`ve taught me during the years. I will continue to respect them for the warm summer nights that we had spent playing poker, because they have given me the best years of my life.

What I don`t understand is their change their behaviour towards me regarding financial situation, or their opinion about my purposes. I have never asked them money, even though there were times when I was in deep need of it. I have never judge them for their uncertain love life, or for other personal matters or tastes. I discovered that I am being judged for what I`ve mentioned above.

Is self esteem something to be earned through the eyes of others? I don`t think so. I haven`t thought so neither during times of wealth, nor through times of poverty. Yet others do. So I guess I`ve got something bitter to chew for a couple of days. It will pass anyway.

Just In Case...

... I won`t enjoy what the doctor is gonna tell me tomorrow:

Reminder: Life Is Beautiful

After all... this is all that matters

Darkness Falls

Am cautat in 7 luni si zeci de stele
Rug de dorinta si magic-armonie,
Si am secat cu ura sute de cismele
Ca sa gasesc un mic crampei de bucurie;
Strigand a disperare si pustiu amarnic,
Probabil c-am sa mai plutesc pe-aceasta lume,
In leagane de-otrava si in balci sarcastic,
Dar n-am sa aflu cantul dulce-al vechiului tau nume.
Mi-e duhul ars, pustiu si plin de tina,
Iar ochii nu-mi mai vad decat venin,
Nu stiu de mor sau umblu fara tihna
In lumea asta mare, plina de suspin.
Mi-e teama dar, sa te mai gust o data,
Mi-e teama c-ai sa mori de-otrava grea si mare.
De-ai sti ce-a fost, de-ai sti vreodata,
De-ai sti amarul meu, durerea. Chemare:
A mortii, fara chibzuinta,
A uriciunii si eternei asteptari,
A goliciunii si a lipsei de vointa
De-a auzi inert, grotesc, perenele chemari.
Mi-e noaptea sora de tagada si pacat,
Iar luna-mi frange aripi negre-n zbor marcat
De umilintele lumesti de peste ziua sura,
De proprii demoni si de lipsa de masura.
Dragonii mei imi sunt straini, departe,
Iar fata ce-oglindeste-a ta privire clara
E hada-dulce-amarui-sihastra,
E scarba-mila-sila in lanul de secara.
Ce vrei, de fapt, chiar de la Moartea insasi?
Vrei zilele sa ti le curmi fara de judecata?
Ai plange milione de petunii. Sa-si
Faca zeii mila-sila-amar de tina-mi ne-mpacata.
Dar te iubesc etern de la distanta,
Din neagra mea mocirla,
Din fundul ros de iad, dar plin de rezonanta.
Chemarile-ti sunt mana,
Iar chipu-ti mi-e dojana,
Rusine mi-e, caci sunt strigoi,
Departe-adanc inchis
De-al vietii clar suvoi,
In pivnite de taina.

Drumul Vietii

In noaptea neagra si uitata-n veacuri,
Luna isi cerne valul sumbru de groteasca simfonie,
In stiluri crude-clare minte-n leacuri
Si-n crancena si prematur-alegorie.
Sub streasina de ganduri ude, infoiate,
Asterne ipocrit, cu mila prematura
O salba lucie de ganduri despuiate
De straiul limpede, mustind a ura,
Un vis rotund dar mort inca din fasa,
Ce suduie prelung si-si arde-a sale moaste,
Cu duhuri mici, neizbavite de a vietii taina,
Cu scoarte gri si dezinvolta haina.
Cat de usor e a rosti pacate,
Ce nu tu le-ai urzit incet in soapte!
Si-ti sunt zvarlite-n traista-n sila,
Cu chipul slobod de cuvant si mila.
Iar ranita ce-alegi s-o duci o-ntreaga viata,
Ti-e tropot dulce si-ndelung suspin,
Cu ranile deschise-n arc de piata
Si cugetul ce-si unduie-al sau chin.

Si-ai sa ma cauti in albastre departari,
Cand moarta eu voi fi de mult ce-am obosit.
Si-ai sa ma chemi, sa ma invoci din munti si mari,
Din ploi si secete si arzator desert ranit.

O stanca eu voi fi, pe care vei calca nestiutor,
Un spirit ranced, muced si lipsit de dor.

A Lesson Of Humiliation

It`s so simple to throw words at people, specially when you know that due to some reasons the person you`re humiliating is not able to answer back. It`s so damn simple to think about yourself you`ve got the ultimate right and the ultimate power that you`re entitled to say or do anything to people. But what will you do when that person will answer you back exactly the same way you`ve been treating her/him?

In that situation my mother got pissed off, threatening she will cut off my power, remove my computer, etc,etc. Anyway, she did her best to find a way to touch me somehow. Pitty she didn`t succeed. I`ve paid for the power, I`ve paid for my own computer, I`ve been paying for lots of other stuff, so she has no right to do whatever she pleases with my own objects. So, she came up with something new: she said I`m going to have to pay for my food. I said fine.

So, that`s how I am put in the position to play tough with my own mother. Everybody would say I`m crazy, rude, bad daughter, etc. Well... people... try to be in my place for a week. And if any of you find humiliation a good way to be pushed to do soemthing good with your life, lemme` know.

In case any of you think that I misunderstand certain things... read below.

hu⋅mil⋅i⋅ate

–verb (used with object), -at⋅ed, -at⋅ing.

to cause (a person) a painful loss of pride, self-respect, or dignity; mortify.

You need practical examples?

1. You are never good enough for her. You can never compare to her, your life is way easier than hers, your job is much simpler than hers, etc.

2. Everything you do will never be good enough. Everything she does is sacred. You are just a piece of crap trying to survive on her back. Your job is lousy, your choices are lousy, your mind is lousy. She is the mother of Jesus Christ and you`re a mean roman soldier putting her to work for you. AND NO, I AM NOT OVERREACTING!!!

3. You will NEVER be as good as she is. No matter what you do, no matter how much you study, or read, or work... you will continue to be a lousy piece of crap in her eyes. And guess what? She even nows for sure that treating you like this will make you better, will determine you to try to be better. So she keeps doing it. Minute after minute, day after day.

4. You are a slave, not her child. Not that my mother would put you to work till death. No, she`s not that kind. Actually she would work herself to death just to prove you that you`re nothing but a lazy piece of crap. She treats you like a slave because you must always know what`s your place, what`s your condition: you will always be inferior to her.

And don`t missunderstand me: she means well. She tries to make me better. She has always tried to bring out the best of me. But she has never ever tried a different way to prove her points. She made me better. But I ended up hating her.

The Master Of The World

I`ve been told I should live, but I have no idea why I just like to watch.
I`ve also been told to gather facts and form an opinion afterwards. Despite that, I like to change opinions, in this way I can evaluate myself: I am able to see if my opinions are wrong or if I was right. I can test and train my intuition.

I`ve been silenced. But no one could stop an idea. No one has been able to put a thought to death without any chances of revival. So, my mouth is shut, but words keep flowing. I think I`m reliving the "master of the world" syndrome. There are few people that know what this really means. And no... it`s nothing like a God complex.

So, for those who know, climb up to the sky and look under your feet. Take a deep breath, after all, a successful flight over the world is a one life experience in some cases.

Amazing...

... not that I enjoy listening to this kind of music, despite that I was amazed. Not that Bianca Ryan is a nobody. But after seeing Charice...

Tastes And Designers

I went shopping with my mother. We needed to buy a shirt for my father. Men stuff are always perfect. Always suitable, always clean and clear. When I have to dress a man, I always know what to choose, what works with his eyes, or with the color of his skin... I am quite successful in that. But not when it is about me.
I am picky, I am damn picky. I can`t find reason in absurd ornaments that cover almost everything that is nice or sexy about a woman. Does the woman have hips? Ok, then show her bloody hips off. Why? Cuz she`s frakking sexy. Does a woman have long legs? Then show her frakking long legs.

But no, that`s not the way. It`s not fashion. Fashion is ment to let people know in how many ways a famous designer can abuse common sense, or excentricity, or sex appeal. Fashion is when a common arrogant designer comes and sais "TODAY YELLOW IS THE COLOR!!". Even if yellow makes me (for instance) look pale ... as if I was dead. But no... in their opinion, I should be dressed in yellow? Why? Because it is fashionable.

Well, people... fuck fashion. Why? Because I apreciate beauty in a less Aristotellic way. I apreciate hips, or boobs or long legs at a beautiful woman, wearing a beautiful simple dress. You know, the kind of the dress that completes the image, not the kind that tries to create one. Well, people, unless you`ve got at least several grands to go shopping at Channel`s, start thinking your own models, go find a good tailor and start creating beautiful things.

Because beauty nowadays is so... into fame and wealth.

Sahara Madness

Well, it seems I`m the only one feeling alright during all this unnatural heat. And I have no idea why exactly. I went out to buy some icecream and some other stuff from the market, there were like 50 degrees and a very hot wind. It felt kinda nice.

Now... the madness. People started to wonder why I am not complaining about the heat. So, after coming back home, I remembered I had forgotten to buy milk and bread (and some other stuff). So I got back downstairs to get what I needed. While being in the lobby I was able to hear the conversation between two of my neighbours that I had previously encountered when I got back from the 1st round of shopping.

- Mrs. Ani... I really believe she`s mentally sick.
- Are you serious?
- Have you ever seen anyone enjoying this silly heat?
- She told me once she went to Sahara. Maybe the bedouins did something to her, said mrs. Ani laughing out loud.

I opened the door and walked right by them. At my sight they suddenly stopped. They watched me, and they continued with something else as if the whole world was perfect.

- I`ve baked a cake for Claudiu last night. He was so pleased.
- Really?? On this heat?
- You know I would do anything for him. Since he got back from the Academy I`m so proud of him. I`m a uniform sucker...

"Yeah... me too", I thought. "I think Claudiu is really ... hot, specially in his uniform". I wish I forgot about my parents honor from time to time., and during this "unfortunate" amnesia I told everybody how imperfect all of us are, and how they should stop doing... certain things.

- Do you think she heard what I was saying?
- Neah... she looks high today!! I think she`s suffering of Sahara Madness and I mean it!

"No, stupid bitch, I am not high.... I am at my period. And yes, I hate everyone and everything in this moment. AND, guess what? YES, I`ve heard everything", I thought, but didn`t say anything. So, with a friendly look and an encouraging smile, I slipped inside the shop to buy some tea. After all, those bedouins told me that there`s nothing better than some hot tea during these days.

My Mother And The Price Of Silence

I have noticed that in every second from my life I have had to prove to someone that I`m worthy of... everything I get. I have also noticed that silence in these days is very expensive. You are either a successful person and your money closes everyone`s mouth, or you are exposed to the general judgement: you are either too rich, or too poor, or too excentric... in any case they always find a way to judge what you are.

And yes, it is normal, among strangers. It is normal to be judged, at least till you become... "close" to the group. I thought that after you get close enough people learn to accept you the way you are. But no, I was wrong. My mother hasn`t accepted me for what I am, not even now, after 31 years of existence. She permanently tries to shape me... after her own appearance. She tries to shape me, by humiliating me every single time when I open myself to her. I`ve told her one of these days that I am so afraid that I am going to be a bd daughter in the future. She asked why, but I wasn`t able to answer her straight. I am answering her here: I am afraid that she will drive me away for good... and that I won`t want to hear of her ever. Not because she has been humiliating me, but because she will keep doing that thinking this is the way she should treat me.

I am tired of proving everyone that I am what they expect me to be. I want to be who I want to be and not some fancy-rich-bitchy business woman, driving an expensive car, with 20 handsome servants sticking around me. I want to be me...

I WANT TO BE ME!!! Is that something so difficult to offer to someone?

Monday Night & Sales Principles

Do not underestimate the power in the tone of your voice. How well do you use your voice to express emotion and emphasize the importance of your message? In today's world where more business is done over the telephone rather than in person it's important to realize that a voice can in fact hinder your success.

We all run out of time. We are expected to increase our sales in numbers, but we often sit spinning our wheels wondering how to do so. It today's economy it's important to nurture the relationships that matter. That doesn't mean just nurturing the potential clients that may sign tomorrow, but nurturing every relationship.

Contrary to popular belief, to be a successful salesperson, it doesn't matter how much you know about your product or service. It also doesn't matter how much of an industry expert you are.

To attract attention in your industry, you have to show off. Well-known people became well-known because they showcased themselves.

Men And Complex

You men always... ALWAYS have to be, or at least to seem to be above. Not that you are, don`t get me wrong... But if you`re not doing that, you ain`t men. You have to prove a point, you have to tell us women: "Hellooooooooooooo, I am the men in the house, so respect ME, woman!!".

Yeah bitch, I respect you... or at least I`ll start respecting you the moment you start rubbin` me properly... Or the moment when you start reacting when I`m rubbing my butt on your pants. Why? Because your point is proven: you wanna fuck. Ok, I`m the woman, I get it!! Now stop proving points and start putting your hands in the proper places. No? Why? Ah... you`re the man... of course, you do things when you wanna do them, you decide when`s the right time to do everything. Thenstop wondering why there are no women willing to date your sorry arse.

Easy Like Sunday Morning

Good morning, world! Despite the rainy morning, my coffee tastes perfect. I need to sleep more, but I won`t do it... this morning attitude rocks, so why spoil it? I`m in that state when you feel like doin` nothin` at all, yet, you`ve got the strange energy that pushes ya to different actions, have no idea wtf is wrong... or right. After all it feels alright, so I`m not gonna complain. So no coffee outside, under a blanket, in the fresh smell of the rain. I suddenly feel too romatic for this morning. My doctor Doolittle got to the office (in time, as usual)... and now he`s in the usual silent mode, not hear, no see, no talk kinda thing.

So... my coffee`s sweet, my Sunday`s cold. Keep up the good work, people, after all... I`m easy.

Wonderful World

Pleasant day, pleasant people, and also, pleasant topics, at least for me. The lack of confidence is often expressed as a lack of "know-how" to allow words to subtitute emotions. So let`s feel cool, listen to cheap music and hunt out in the open. Anyone can explain me, how the hell some people end up being totally the oposite of good taste and common sense, just because they haven`t got the slightest idea about how to live?

Cheap music, cheap eyes sliding on my body... and the damn bus keeps being frakking late. Cheap music, again... cheap eyes, again. And I am supposed to react like a horny stupid lil` bitch, overimpressed by the macho talents of the hood concepts. I`m desperatly looking for the bus, as the music goes on, scratching my brains and my nerves. Big bellies, noisy laughters... and cheap music. Where the frak is that bus?!?! He starts walking... one of them. I don`t dare check how many they are. Not because I`m afraid... neah... but I think I`m gonna be scared by the number of people that need to be shot. So, as I was saying... he walks around, trying to meet my eyes. He`s got the cool walk, something that expresses "hey pussy... wazzup?". I`m avoiding his eyes by admiring a dirty Vectra parked right in front of me, or by checking some products at a small shop. One of them is shouting in disgrace: "Yo, buy her a lipstick!!". I told myself: "I need a shotgun, you dumbass, not a lipstick.... I`m full of lipsticks, eyeshaders, eyeliners and any other face molesters. I need something to make you regret the fact that you were born stupid. I need enough money to bribe a doctor to cut your balls so that you won`t reproduce. I need a bat to hit your face till I see small pieces of your teeth popping out of your mouth. I need your face to be as stupid and ... inviting, so I won`t be tempted to stop hitting it." THE BUS!!! The damn bus is coming. I`m happy... no more "manele", no more empty looks. I`m getting into the bus. While watching the happy gang in the station, I`m thinking: I`m a racist! Should I be sorry for it?

The New Face Of The Truth

TRUTH!!!

...And the road becomes my bridge
I have stripped of all but pride
So in her I do confide
And she keeps me satisfied
Gives me all I need

...And with dust in throat I crave
Only knowledge will I save
To the game you stay a slave
Rover wanderer
Nomad vagabond
Call me what you will

But I'll take my time anywhere
Free to speak my mind anywhere
And I'll redefine anywhere
Anywhere I roam
Where I lay my head is home

...And the earth becomes my throne
I adapt to the unknown
Under wandering stars I've grown
By myself but not alone
I ask no one

...And my ties are severed clean
The less I have the more I gain
Off the beaten part I reign
Rover wanderer
Nomad vagabond
Call me what you will

But I'll take my time anywhere
Free to speak my mind anywhere
And I'll redefine anywhere
Anywhere I roam
Where I lay my head is home
Carved upon my stone
My body lie, but still I roam

Wolf cry

- Are dogs going to Heaven?
- I don`t know, I don`t know if there is any Heaven at all.
- You must keep the faith... I`m scared. Help me!
- ...
- Stop crying, you are scaring me even worse.
- I don`t know what to do. The needle in your paw helps you... this nice doctor is helping you.
- Remember when I ran away from you `cuz my paws were frozen?
- Hell yeah!! And I thought my parents were going to kill me because of you.
- I know, that`s why I did it. I was 4 months old. I was unable to defend you... and you were walking in that park as if you were queen of the place, with so many nasty dogs around you...
- Oh, I see it now, you were jealous!
- It hurts... again!
- I think you will go to Heaven!
- Not yet... I`ve got plenty of things to do. Not just yet...
- I`m not ready for this either, not now.
- Don`t worry, I promise I will be strong.
- I trust you... even if you`re a dog.

Wolf song

- Does it hurt you much?
- Yes, it does, and I don`t understand why, I don`t know what`s going on.
- It`s life, it hurts like that when you reach to a certain point.
- What is life?
- I have no idea, I can`t explain, and I am not sure that you would understand. Tell me... why don`t you tell me that you are in pain?
- But I am telling you... each time when you look into my eyes, you see it, and you know it.
- I don`t speak your language, I don`t know how to read your mind. Human beings are stupid when it comes to that: expression or reading expressions.
- I know you are... you have always been like that. Maybe that`s why I got everything I have ever wanted without begging.
- I love you! You would have got it anyway... even if you hadn`t been a dog.

For my wolf

Goddess looking for God

I felt lost (not that I didn`t like it), haven`t managed to find myself just yet. Probably it will take me a life time to do so, and I am not sure it is going to be as complete as my mind desires.
I fell down, then got up, just to stand tall face to face with my agony, to tell it "I love you", but I didn`t feel better, because I wanted more.
I`ve been searching pain, and I found it where I didn`t expect it to be, wandering in my mind and in my heart, as if it had been there since my very beginning.

I am my own Creator, as no one has ever been able to shape me after own appearance... anyone but myself.
I am my own God, because I have always found inside me an illogical amount of life and strength. Experience has made me rich, as life has always abundantly supplied me with resources and values to be kept inside.
I am ice, as no one has ever truely melted my consciousness.
I am in denial.

Where are you? I know where you are.
Are your followers better than Me?

For Sasha

How do you say your heart is raining fear,
And words are mute inside your mind?
How does the sky keep being clear,
When darkness falls upon your mind?

How do you cry in empty rhymes,
The agony that drains your life,
Long years ended all in crimes,
Small painful talks begun in strife?

How can you shout to all the Gods,
That you have cried and crawled in dirt,
That you would die for sake of odds,
That you would pay for all this hurt?

How can you look into my eyes,
Since you`ve forgotten all I`ve loved?
Your life and heart are full of lies,
Your life and heart by hell are gloved.

Just sail away and kill my dreams
With bitter words and tiny lives!
Abandon me in Sasha`s screams,
I`ll fall asleep on beds of knives.

Perfection

Do you want me to be perfect? Because I can do that, so you will be pleased.
Do you want me to change my hairstyle? It is an easy way for you to breathe fresh air for a while.
Do your want me to wear contacts? They won`t hide what`s beneath the color.
Do you want me to cry? I will do that, if my tears will cover your heart with joy.
Do you want me to sell my body for you? Because I can do that to make you rich.
Do you want me to fight in a war for your name? I will do it if that makes you feel like a king.
Do you want me to go to a convent? Because in this way you will know that I`m physically clean.
Do you want me to be cool? Because I know that my universe written in huge mithril letters bores you like hell.
Do you want me to act differently than my usual self? Because I`ve got thousands of colorful masks, I went to Venice esspecially to buy them all.
Do you want me to be low? Because I know that this will make you feel better than me.


I dont want to be cool. That will kill all my unicorns.
I don`t want to be your hore. That will kill your respect for me.
I don`t want to change my hairstyle. That will teach you to accept me as I am.
I don`t want to wear contacts. That will make you see my truth.
I don`t want to be perfect. That will teach you to see your own flaws.
I don`t want to cry. That will teach you not to cry, and be strong.
I don`t want to fight your wars. That will teach you how to be a king.
I don`t want to go to a convent. That will teach you to accept your dirtiness.
I don`t want to be someone else. That will teach you to always tell the truth.
I don`t want to be low. That will teach you how NOT to hurt other people.

Truth

Sometimes mind and eyes can hurt hearts, just by showing what they understand and see in people`s eyes. I know not how to handle lies. I know not how to hide the truth. I had replaced my heart with a steel one... but now it`s hurting my chest. My head is up, for I have no reason to bow to the ground. I needed warmth, but I guess it is quite late in the night to ask for that, or to endure what Gods prescribed on my recipe for happiness. Yet thirst and hunger dig huge graves into my heart, just to remind me of my souless being, or my sharp blades covered with blood and sin.

The mask I`m wearing is getting heavier, it cuts my face and makes me despicable to myself and to my mirrors. Queens must be tought the lesson of betrayal, girls should be tought the lesson of maturity and women should be tought the lesson of modesty. People should be tought the lesson of life. Space and time are the synonims of virtue, as long as logics and common sense are two ciggaretes that are to be smoked in one corner of a dark room.

My age is not my heart, and my mind is not my education. My words are not my happines, but my tears, my disgust of so much false joy. I may forget the taste of sharp blades, or honor, or dignity, as humans always seem to forget the true sense of life. My words are just mere children playing in the grass. I just hope their tiny feet won`t be cut by all the blades and glasses hidden beneath the leaves.

井の中の蛙大海を知らず。

Letter To The People

dear people, I woke up this morning, had about 2 cups of coffee made from the dirty water that I left on the desk last night. It tasted like shit... esspecially that I dropped a cigarette in it (but that has no importance right now), yet, I don`t feel stupid enough to hate myself. After all... there can be worse.

I grabbed my coat, as I had to be at the office at 8. But the stupid cab driver didn`t trust me enough when he saw my price-charming-mornin`-face, so he decided to leave me there and drive on his own. I got scared. Actually I ran back upstairs and watched myself in a mirror... and I thought that I really look like shit... yet, I don`t feel stupid enough to run away from myself, after all... there can be worse.

Ok, so I was late for bloody work. I ran all the way to the office with people watching me strangely, asking themselves why the fuck I would run like a schizofrenic raped by a doney. I kept asking myself, if they were in a hurry, if my rush was lame, if they forgot that they do that every morning too, and despite that, they seemed quite surprised by me. So, when I got to the office, instead of going directly to the desk, I end up in the bathroom, poo-ing and peacefully thinking if I was wrong and people from the streets was right. Conclusion, I was neither wrong, nor stupid to run away from myself, after all, there can be worse.

I finally got to my desk. Papers, sheets, toilet paper, people... everywhere. Phone ringing, messages, myself. I`m focused. More focused than ever. I feel like crystal clear with myself. I have no reason to run away, to hide, to chase ghosts. I am free. And I am not stupid. And not running away anylonger.

Faithfully,
Lady Arwen

Don`t step over my dreams

It`s so difficult for elves to learn how to hide their faces as they`ve never been tought to wear masks. Mirrors know not how to tell lies, nor to hide away what`s obvious to the human kind. Elves have strong minds, but delicate souls... one noisy pain in human mind can brake them easily. An elf with a broken soul dies slowly. He learns the lie, the loneliness, the agony and the despair.

So don`t step over my dreams... you will brake them with your footsteps.