the raindrops bouncing
bouncing on the invisible
as i've been, through and though,
falling deep without cellar
you keep me in

grace

poetry and prose
tree and rose
poetris and prosis
trees and dozes of roses
you sets my skin
in the tremorosis way

dead snowflake.

once you were here. Dancing as you were a ballerina, like a child, when so carelessly dances into the rhythm of unknown keynotes, like a piece of flesh, hot and thick, pulsing on and off. I watched you, but you did not know. And I did. A fatal mistake happened to you, will you ever dance again? I watch you falling, slowly, without any resistance , or resentment of being a part of human existence, and of penetrating my mind, the cells of humanly created something, and thereby creating an idea of you.

Your little hand. Branches. One by one, escaping from the center, as to be alarmed by a sudden surprise that, escaping never really. like sugar never really escapes the salt, the sun the moon, the gravity the earth, and you, you, your center.

You are falling, and I do like you. I wanna have you in my possession, maybe forever, if possible. Do I deserve you? and will I appreciate you forever? And will yoy be here in my sleepless nights? will you hold my hand while I cry? Do not wipe my tears, please.

And now, you turn what you want me to be.


Oh, wait, I had lost you! I am lovely, so lonely now.

good morning, nothingness.

make me the burden,
the universal one,
to realize,
to witness
that we carry the sword.
give it to me, and I,
with one stab, i will do it,
to make myself be free,
yes,"the" free like you are without me,
no. Wait. I really have to find myself.
and one day i will be born again.

Window (or Jeff' s favorite)

you let me see
the world
i imagine, and i bet
you love me so?

Oh, you did let me
but let me be bruised
all in the heat of blood
on my world cruise

i was wrong, i take it
can i , can i not?
see through you,
the ephemeral spot?

open.

On a plate of sorrow
i am passing by, passing by
today, tomorrow

fellow. spread your wings
wings of compassion
i will be illiterate
of sorrowness mansion

voice is mute, voice is silent
mumbled in inner violence
i perch here, i perch there
forging that hollow air

loneliness.utter.

praise....to heaven I praise
for him to come home...
in the commas you find more
so much more than words can conceal...
.heaven! is deaf,deaf, deaf
bringing me the almost death

Cherries

In the garden where cherries grow, grow every year

I sit and wait until next year comes

There, cherries, the diamonds reflect my memories

me as a child, as a girl, as a blossoming flower

there I sit and wait longer, and longer

and all memories arrive back to me

and I see my grandmother in an old- fashioned apron

leaning back, under that tree, that tree of solitude

waiting for cherries to be thrown down by me

there are gone, memories decay

but I still sit and wait, and wallow, wallow

waiting for year, the year that follows

my memories

tones and lyrics that always create wetness in my visuals

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A4o4Cditrb8

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1vxQs84FMWQ

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rO8JWbG6bVw

I sometimes wonder how each of us, each individual, each soul, each wandering body, and questing apples, we all can bear the beauty of the world.
Do you also need to cry when you see it? When you have that over-encompassing feeling, when it all is brimming over, over your soul because mind has exposed you to the cradle of prettiness, not prettiness like you see, but you feel, you breathe in, and out, like the air, the simple invisible, air, the most relevant particle in our life.
THE PERPETUATING IRONY OF LIFE. THE IMPORTANT IS INVISIBLE TO EYES. Even the little prince, so big in his heart knew it.

I' ll buy an airbag for my soulquake. Note*: Please.