Unlocking My Screams

I am searching for a key,
One that can release me,
From unwanted thoughts,
Hammering my pure mind,
Onto the walls of agony,
Nails piercing the heart,
From all directions,
Leaving no room for confessions,
Or even a moment of solitude,
The solace of serene souls
Driven away as I bleed out,
But the key will guide me,
To wield heavenly whispers,
Forged in ancient constellations,
And if I were to reignite my diminishing smiles,
Then I need to unlock the screams of my soul,
I am fighting my way out of this,
With warm beats of young drums,
With melodious bangs of Eminem,
And even if volcanic eruptions were
Loud and fierce,
Damaging and deadly,
And even if earthly quakes were
Trembling and traumatic,
Thunderous and wild,
And even if oceanic tsunamis were
Humongous and crushing,
Treacherous and drowning,
I know I will crawl my way out of this,
Because I know I will never be alone.


The Black Widow

What will you do when you have been –
Captured by a Black Widow,
Believing that she’s your Queen,
Living happily in her silky strings,
Except they are devouring you – ever – so – slowly,
And when you wake up from this magical dream:
(where your heart screams so loud
That you forget to listen to those close to you,
Those that cared for your angelic smile,
Those who will still await your return patiently)
And then you start to struggle your way out,
Not sure whether it is too late or not,
But you do it nonetheless,
To taste freedom once more,
And to her, you are but a useless pawn,
Trapped in her game –
Suddenly, one string snaps,
That is your remedy,
So you continue cutting all your connections with her,
And with each snap she furiously fits uncontrollably,
Because picturing you dissing her royalty is unbearable,
And you finally escape!
So what now?
Will you return to her throne and burn it down?
Or move on to find another royalty?
Or will you forge yourself into a throne-less King?

Nature Talks No More

Mystical winds enveloped my breaths,
And took control over how I sang my soul,
And onto the ancient stones of a labyrinth,
I was raised into the heavens up above to
Shout cries of the earthly wonders to those
Who slowly kissed our hallow moon. And left.

The trees that fed us their roots for a revival,
Joined the ritual to dance their wisdom minds
Into our explorative souls that continued to fly
Into the depths of the seas, and to soar over the
Heights of the mountains – there I hugged the
Roots into a dance along the forest. And halted.

The nature’s musical stops at a beat that beats
The beating hearts into a shocking stop stopped
Beyond awakening – a deathly shock – bereaved
At the notion that everything is from beauty,
And hence, everything will return to beauty,
My beloved nature was cremated. And silenced.

Memoirs of Bones

I lay flat on a mossy graveyard,
A majestic hall once upon a time,
And I await my resurrection to
Introduce a new age for the pirates,
Alas, the white rounded piece of
My elbow has itched for eternity,
The hollow area in my skull brought
Me chills over my body – dead body,
And sometimes it whistles loudly
To attract a creature’s attention,
Yet, only lizards and weird insects
Creep nearby, alas, no humans!
If I was fortunate to meet a mage:
Like a famous person in the old age
That was able to track the hidden
Golden charm under my ilium,
But that is a big enraging IF that
Effed me with delusional hopes
For a couple of mossy centuries,
And it’s itchy! – just go away –
Ah, look at the clock, it’s tea time!

The Death of Stars

Since the dark ages of Apollo cursing
The crow, the cup, and the water snake,
Since the monsters of our own beings
Reproduced the wonders of storytelling,
Will we ever forsake some of our privileges
To remember the sacred names of nature?
He arises among the debris to denounce
The arrogance of the stars in the Big Dipper,

And from dusk to dawn unearthing
The shapeless bones of a raging soul,
Fiery in the sense of a burning coal,
And Hydra with its fading tail soon
Took its head to devour the gods of men,
And it curves around celestial bodies,
Travelling through copious dimensions,
To find a relic and reclaim the throne,

Except, the presence of another monster,
Quivering the heavens into a black hole,
Hercules now far from reaching its neck,
An old neighbour of the grape gatherer,
With its blistered bellowing barks asking
For a chance to show its beautiful heart,
But since earthly men never truly change,
Facing Polaris, the monster was publicly slain.

Howls and Roars

I was once a little boy who travelled
To different planets; each to tell their
Own ancient story about my purpose –
Not theirs, and strangely enough, only
Riddling clues evaporated into my ears,
The voice? Well, no specific position,
Only the vivid signs in the atmosphere,
And on the brightest month of the year,
And on the coldest night of the month,
And on the loneliest hour of the night,
Wolves started to appear amidst the
Misty snowfall of a woodland planet,
And I have lived on this planet patient
For it to tell me its story about me,
And even after years spending on it,
I have never heard anything except now:
The endless howls under the several
Moonlights – the volcanic planet did
Reveal the secret of the darting red
Eyes that would stop my heartbeat,
But I had to do something for them,
And their approach was slow and
Fixated centred entirely around me,
I couldn’t climb the trees or dig down
And hide below some earthly matter,
But I might be able to speak some
Sense into them, and so I told them
To go away and leave me alone,
I asked them what of me did they want,
Their reply was simply predatory,
And I knew that any second now
I would be devoured into little pieces
Beyond recognition, and so I shouted,
And I noticed the hesitation on the
Younger wolf, and so I roared at the
Top of my young lungs, and many
Stopped their deathly march, but
Since I was by myself that pause did
Not last forever, and so, I roared again
And again and again, but this time,
The planet roared its life with me.

Squeaking Lions

The lions of today’s news
Grew long scorpion tails,
A hybrid found in deserts
Away from vibrant oases:
Fresh beginnings for the
Lost animals panting on
The doors of burnt death,
Still, the deformed hybrids
Will try to be on headlines,
Suffocating their own arid
Lands until shades of red
Fill the elemental sources
Of life to water our eyes,
Their incompleteness is
The truthful buried acts
Of masking themselves
Behind defective faces,
And what we see is a
Black flag and squeaks
Uniformly produced in
Studios of modern TV
Series commercialised
At the expenses of our
Young innocent souls,
And while they dance on
Our shattered dreams,
We have to break those
Masks of the so-called
Lions and snap their
Ugly long scorpion tails.