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?