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The end as we know it

Only our silence saved us

From each other and from ourselves

When the universe galloped towards the end

While we slept soundly,

Never trully grasping

the full catastrophe

of having never




Practicing wordlessness

If wordlessness were not a word

It should have been invented.

It covers so much ground

in the range of (in)human emotions


Wordlessness embraces you

When nothing else does.

In joy, in sorrow in deep regret

In things that hurt too deeply

For words to be uttered

For tears to be shed..


I may have not invented the word

Born too late for that

But I am sure I had a major contribution

In redesigning

The feeling that goes with it

Hand in hand.

Cape Sounion sunset, Greece

Cape Sounion sunset, Greece

Trap For My Mind

I work in a blue cube

Clouds reflect on it, but never touch it.

My thoughts are bluish cubes:





I breathe in a blue cube

I try to breathe in a blue cube

I try to think in a blue cube

I try to feel in a blue cube

Feel, what a strange word

To utter in such a cube.


Others have grey cubes and I should be sorry

Others have no cubes at all and watch me judgingly

I should love my cube, they say

But how do they know what it’s like

To experience life from a blue glass cube

Never detained


Never free


I’ve met a ghost the other day

I looked at him, he looked away

 I tried to smile but couldn’t help,

To feel the sadness for his death.


I tried to tell him I can feel

The sadness of his empty being.

He did not hear and did not care

I turned around and let him stare


At all that life has put between

His empty soul, my heart that fills

With everything he does not know,

He lost the day he sold his soul.


I’ve met a ghost the other day

He looked at me, I looked away

I couldn’t tell him he was dead

I looked at him and shook my head


I’m sorry life has hurt you so

I loved you but…. so long ago

Goodbye dear ghost of youth and love

Our time has passed, now let me go.


Uneori mai mor şi tăcerile

Nu doar oamenii

Plantele de apartament

şi girafele cu nume stupide.


Problema e că din tăcerile moarte

Nu se mai nasc idei

Nici prietenii

Nici măcar un pumn de scantei

De fluturi

De scame.


Mor tăcerile şi mor în zadar…

Nu mai avem ce ne spune,

Dinainte de-a ne cunoaste.


Am fi fost prieteni daca ne-am fi găsit

între două vorbe

Pe care am uitat să le tastăm



Am citit în ziar că într-o ţară,
am uitat care
şi nici nu contează,
există o fată care plânge cu pietre.

Eu pot să plâng cu neputinţe,
nu cred că ţi-am mai spus,

Neputinţele dor…
puţin altfel
decât pietrele,
sau cu ce altceva mai plâng oamenii
prin ziare online.

pink fury


Fulgii de nea alearga in cercuri,

cu limba scoasa

Nici nu stii cate universuri de gheata

Ti-au murit astazi pe obraji.

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