My darling

My beloved one

I'm dancing; Shaking, Pouring, raining, trembling like

The bridges over the tidy lights

I fall, I rise, I taste, Say, verse, rhyme, whisper….

And turn turn and turn…

Flutes come

Hornes blow

My jungle is a mist

Filled with shiny butterflies

And dazzling violins

And my lady walks

Walks through the mist and the green-white beads

Sings her secret verse

Flutes the trees and fairies

Orchestrates the secrets of the ancients soil

Dances the fingers who touch the harp

Turn

Dance

Sing

The song

Here

Now by

Me

Along….

O, My violin! My crystal! My skin…

I have lost the paragraphs of my mind and I'm happy. I've lost it somewhere in your arms; sides and sides;

While our waves were twisting;

Rolling deep and turning tight…

And when the cold morning light began to melt the window in the air

And our vision into the cloudy day;

Yes, I lost it there…

I feel like I never want it back;

Or you may begin to paragraphize instead…

Tongues in tango; blinds touch for, reach for Brills. Raining, draining; cripples complete their bodies and enter. Holes in dams; no one to stop the penetration of the lake. Pours and falls; Waterfall to devastate to hold the rocks. Fishes kiss the hook to hang; Boats hug the sea to sink; Sailors jump to the ocean to unite…

To unite with that great embrace, the greatest touches;  

Silk me in your arms! Velvet me in your eyes! Count me again and again… again and again…

Pour me like the storm who blows the leaves…

Stone me like the cold beneath the cloths…

Hear me like the joy entering your ears…

No… just Rain me… Drain me…

Eat me. Drink me. Shout! And my music’s burning blood.

The land’s blazed by my drums. You can see all the down-ward thumbs.   

Play the game. Move the fingers on re skins, sol lips, la belle fille’s eyes. Do it; do le tout... yes! Yes you shall eat the piano with enough coke. And you can dance the orchestra till you die, chock. I’d rather choose Pepsi instead. For I’ve just had a violin with some bread.

Let me think of something new...

Life is so hard without you...

Love is ordinary; sometimes even boring and you cannot make a miracle.  Now sitting crushed down, poured and splashed, whipped and thrashed I feel pleased, I feel pleased with the scars on my soul, holes in my brain, and a desire in my wisdom to sit in a sallow cab and ask for a ride to the end. No, you can never manufacture a miracle and love is all the same. And who knows; my approach is a matchless brand. My notes are the flying daggers. My words are spells of the age. Yes! I shall make wonders! And you shall see the insanity of a delighted flying bear in the skies!

The world is your canvas...

I can not resist anymore. I've crossed the borders of touch, I've twisted, bundled my whole body in her silk sweet arms. And I rise like a leaf from the wet coffee soil, and I shine like the green verdant oil. She's here; landed cloud. All surrounds the mount peaks with shiny tears; touches gently on my knees. Raises; the body of fields of violin; in the shining sun when it just breaks the window in. 

Here is a copy of all scattered feelings, fragile loneliness, and eyes of smoke and the nights of shallot lavender… here comes the taste.

The taste I searched and wondered up and down, along sides and centers, soft and hard. But here’s a facsimile of the writing, a fake crowd, and legs of crystal and days of the oldest tea… here comes the dance.

  The dance I’ve always thought about in blue, thought about in red, thought about behind the curves of the mountains, snow-dashed… but here is a reproduction of old images, forsaken landscapes, and the heritage’s stolen and the drunk is dead… now I’m losing;

Losing my pictures and colors, losing my songs and fingers, losing the roads… but she’s beside me. She used to be beside me all these years. All I search is here… all through her arms; my past and future monuments inside; whispering, remembering, embracing… and sleeping tight…

There was nothing left to lose

Despite the time which spent

There's always a gap between what is seen and what is described. More deeply, between what is felt and what is told; a failure of expression; the lost pieces of the body in a relationship. And the question remains the same: will she understand me? Will she move over the crippling sketches I painted loosely? To apprehend the whole I desired to tell? The desired, had dreamed of? Even of her, and of all temptations, rises, needs, and passions she wakes inside me? And of course this question remains unanswered. And of course I can never find the truth of what she says, calmly whispers on the line… but of this voice, of her voice of sirens, her voice and the love inside the notes she spells and the spells, casting by my heart, I can say nothing… better to remain silenced, stupefied, crushed and dead rather than to attempt a worthless endeavor. Better to remain impressed, deeply inside, and surely wanting; A move to my body not to the surroundings outside. Just like what she does when she swings to me –the greatest moments, the greatest cuddles of all my life-… All towards my body, deep inside, impressing… and about all this, I have nothing to say…