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...