A woman once told me...

so what do I claim to know about you?

well for a start you are very traditional when it comes to family. you love kids and they love you. you have respect for your parents something I don't see in many guys these days.
keeping the house clean is very important to you and even though your room can be messy at times you are a neat freak and you are bossy..
you can't be alone. solitude is difficult for you... you have to be around friends, and people in general. you love people. you love ironing :)
you love tea with honey and hate coffee, you love TV. Moreover..when its your favorite show...I don't think me standing naked in front of you will even make you look toward my direction! when it comes to your favorite show. You usually never finish what you have started because you get to board to quickly. You worry about money a lot, but perhaps its the current situation that causing it, you can be a bit selfish without realizing it. you need someone to take care of you in a way of giving support and fit back. you love beauty and fashion, take care of your appearance. you are a drooler ha ha..that was a tough one, you love coconuts, you lick your fingers when they are dry or seem to be dry, you love rap, dancing and technology. you cannot lie... :) you have values... being updated in whats going on in the world is very important to you.
you are spoiled a little bit...you hate cold weather. you love white color...hate dark ones.
the list can go on and on...



my reply?

... I Love You!

“I’m a detective!” I said...

The detective is defective,
“So long ago I have changed,” I said.
It was a stormy afternoon, flushed with anger and gravitational screams that echoed from ear lobes to the mouths that captured its air. The puddles had a depth that can swallow a whale and my shoes were crocodiles with their fangs facing a foot ahead of me. I had entered a dinner the shape of a bullet, its light green outline had filled my eyes with blindness. Inside were a group of political savages that didn’t believe in tooth ferries, but believed the money that had been placed under the pillows of children, were theirs to keep. I fled through the doors as if I was a kamikaze strapped with an atomic bomb. My stomach had busted internally and all I can think of was, which way was the bathroom. Startled, the group of men without hesitation pulled out their guns. In that split second I had been erased from their image contemplating of which toilet to extract my waste into. I had failed again but the feeling of losing about 3.5 kilograms was priceless. After the thin sliced toilet paper grazed my skin I had flushed with anger, ready to get back to business. The mirror in front of me had appeared to be defective; it reflected uncoordinated hair lines across my scalp. There was no way in heaven I would appear in front of those savages with a bad hair day. Embarrassed and in control, my fingers became combs trickling up and down my scalp. After seconds past my image was of a models prospect. I had refreshed my mouth with a spray of mint. With a deep breath I had remembered all the times of preparation before the long nights that were ahead of me. It took a smile or two to regain confidence. Although I had not been fifty years of age with bowing arrows and enough power to defeat an entire infantry of 100,000 men, I felt like Rambo. In an instant, after that thought of being Rambo had escaped my mind, the walls of the bathroom started to close in, and there was only one way out. I grasped its location and fully plunged my weight onto the door knob and turned it gently. I then disguised myself as a drag queen and slowly whistled out the door leaving trails of fragrances no man can neglect. As the sky felt my presence and I was embraced by the environment outside, the savages quickly got out of their seats and continued towards the door. Outside, I was loaded with enough cavalry and fire power that can blow a hole in the galaxy itself. As soon as their outlines appeared in the scope of my trigger finger, I unloaded.
“Dead! Dead! Pow Pooww!! They were gone,” I had explained.
With a bewildered look she had turned away from my services and left the bar. At that point, all I can think of was, where had my story gone wrong?

if ever my Heart was stolen...

Foolishly I’d thought I was stronger in every sense possible but I have been followed by strangers. Ones who were marked with deception, adultery, lament and fed up with their self image. I had intensely tried to emerge away from their shadows as they came near. Importantly enough the jealousy and hurt reflected in their eyes. They wanted something so pure and free they would withstand the utmost agony to claim it. The one thing which had followed me all my life had finally set upon my yawns and cries. Other people in my position would have fallen like the molecules that have been carried by the unwanted rain into the earth’s soul, but I wouldn’t let them take it, as war has claimed me. At that moment, control was a past tense and fear had set in. I had felt my vessels being torn apart, where pain, like a smile away from a good toast to its creator, had vanished. There was one voice followed by multiple fingers. Though my heart had an attention deficit disorder, doubtful to communicate at the time, had been aware of its surroundings. As the claws pierced my tissues and expanded them into the air, I had felt a voice scream. “I shall leave you for a split second my friend and it will last you an eternity to get me back,” my heart cried! So I cried back, pathetic and missing, bewildered and petrified. Without reaction, I reacted; acting into an image of myself I had been always craving for. An appetite that was past due; an immediate way for change had identified itself. I had picked up its wireless significance as I grabbed hold of my heart. Still breathing, the accent was reminiscent, and at that point I had felt what my heart had meant to me, in the palms of my hand. As my fingers gripped its bloody body, I had felt as a mother would, when seeing a dead carcass of her child. As terror struck my heart it had slowly took its last breath with an uncertain look into my eyes. I had now understood why this had happened, let me explain. May the heart stay in its place for it has nowhere else to go, to forget it’s there, is to forget it all. My own fingers had grasped what I had not comprehended, and had stolen it all, from me, the creator. I had myself taken out what had controlled my every emotion, the heart. For I am sorry my friend, may you accept my apologies for I will never do it again.

Dear, Silence

Sunday, August 9, 2009


I own that I understand very little about all these details of socialism and reaching out right about now; what I know is that since the voices became quiet all that is heard is my heart. I am sure, feel that I have no desire to become apart of this let alone become it. It is no one more or less than, I, that control this. Ah, dear friend, you are fortunate to have my ears and lips, but I will own to you that, in spite of your extreme racket, my departure from your cries has been a great feeling for me. Above all, you have taught me patience and grief, along with endless nights of still air as if I have been lynched to my last breath. I know very well of your courage and commitment, your poetic and pure intimacy fulfilling so many souls, souls that grant no permission to enter. So young and burdened with this hell, to what temptations will be exposed? Mine? Do not let us seek to penetrate your quietness, for we will! A thousand thanks, dear friend, for the work you send us, and which is all the rage where you are. I have unconfined my lips and slowly entered into the terrible and scared secrets of your speechless galaxies. I know very well that, I for once will break your silence with pleasure full extremities and remedies where only letters can formulate, at this moment, some type of communication that can be watered and raised under your sun. My respects to your creator and my compliments to the silence you have distilled upon so many. But I for once will no longer embrace you as I love you, and forget your memories.

P.S.---Let us hear you.

Grandpa, may you rest now

Wednesday, May 06, 2009

I cant explain how my tears can dry up in pain
Nor how I can smile through all of this
I’m trying….I’m trying.. grandpa!

I am not afraid and I will not bury you inside my heart
I will bring you to life through words… through spirit!
I have so many unanswered questions! Why?

Why were you so strong,
And how did you raise such a great man like my father
I want to learn…

I have so many heart beats left,
G-d, Why couldn’t I have just given him some of them?

May my prayers come from the air of my grandfathers last breath
And may g-d’s ears open to hear these words…
“I want him back, Please!”

Please… please .. ..
take whatever you want!
Just bring him back to us!
I love you дедушка Миша!

May you live through us,
Every step of the way

And may you be as proud of us
As we are proud of you.

Thank you.

pleasure

Sunday may 3, 2009 11:20pm

I wrote with words “we wish dessert was slow and painful!”
Healthier then fast and forgettable
Feelings lasted a second ago,
and now!, The future has no extensions at all!

Emptiness, left evidence by my'stake
I mean mistake, intake, all the journeys that we face

Engage we shall, and swallow slow
Chew and wonder off into tastes unforgettable

Assist instructions into inner indulgence
Inner explosions, winners, we are all it!

Indicate ways, where we integrate faith
Innovate hate, into smiles we create

A lesson, is less then a sentence long...
That forms our expressions
For as long as we sketch them

One who seeks, believes!
One with reach, is at ease
For thee is no longer blind to see

elephants tusk

Today at 2:31am | Edit Note | Delete

I tremble like mushrooms that create boom,
that wipe hair lines until it fades wounds
a smile last is always first introduced
the truth I curse has lost its proof
tick I fuck, tock I lust, ohh clock!
time is rough when responsibility isn’t enough
my messages are clear ocean thrusts
rusting away waves, oblivion I must
my minds enthusiastic behavior is short of brain dead
O behave less, lesser then what they said
a cookie monster, baggage snatcher
a political crook are like after hours
sleep and open eyes,
are as close to each other as religion and hope in mind
I’m sensitive!
and my neck is like stairs with giraffe hairs
(waiting for their reaction)
illuminating their stares like who cares

a prayer

my lord see the damage and the pain
see the flames in between the rain
show mercy and grab hold
of each soul that controls his own
and if ever thee is weak, lift them up
show them the way and don’t give them up
a slow burn is a scar earned
and these heart beats are what I call home
breath my air, show me light
control my fears, hold my life
never see the blind, always see the lies
always remind me twice to read in between the lines
I am yours, forgive my sins
that rise without reason that are committed within
I am, so be it, in your hands
forever faithful, always a man, amen

what the fuck Is going on?

(Edvard Munic's - The screamer)

I am blazing high into the night and fitfully illuminating my thoughts. Fuck you! The seven letters hemmed in by the dark sigh that followed after the letter u. In truth, I didn’t know what the fuck was going on. A candle had been lit at an evening dinner at about eight o’clock, before I had driven nude and skinless through the snow without any clear thought of what the fuck was going on. I roared and laughed, disappointed by reality. I have forwarded this so called reality to a fiction state of mind, edging into some type of understanding. Thus sped this demonic feeling along my course of thought, until, quivering among my own face gestures, I had realized I didn’t know what was going on. I knew the tune; it was a familiar one stored in the back of my mind. The feeling of confusion. Maddened with despair, I laughed loud and long. Did my mind grasp any of this, at such a rate that I seemed to fly past its course rather than to walk or run it through my head? What the fuck was going on? Driven to the deepest road where my imagination lingered uncontrollably, I started to express myself. Changing as the seasons would, the coldness overgrown my thoughts, and within hours, the fire slowly came into the picture. Back to the candle light dinner when things were the other way around. The candle resembles fire and the snow, well its snow ladies and gentlemen, and she, well she deserved the “fuck you!”