You are a lucky elephant. You win when you gamble. How come we all are divided into sectors of happiness? Why can't we all be the same. Individuality is a myth that became reality. It shouldn't exists. Who ever thought it was a good idea, was not a very sharp tool. I blame the globalization. I blame the rich, and I blame the poor. I blame You all for this hell that we live in. Equality should have never been born. We shouldn't have let it grow. I can not wait for it to grow old, I want it to get bold and die.
We all are meant to have the same dreams. We all should aim for the same boring life. There shall be one king that should be nominated, and not elected, no. It should remain as a hereditary factor. No one should ever have power just because they got lucky. Nowadays luck plays too much of a role in people's lives. We trust in luck. We wish to win the lottery more than we wish to go to work. We wish for money. It's all about the wealth. That's why I blame the rich, and I blame the poor.
Friday, April 20, 2012
Monday, April 16, 2012
Tuesday, April 10, 2012
When You're Gone
You are gone to me. You're a broken watch, that shows no time. You are a sound of jazz in a far, far distance. You are a gold ring around my finger. You are there as a thing, as a symbol. That is all I have of you.
Red dress. Broken shoes. I will come. I will claim what is mine. I do not know what the right time is. I don't need to know anything. Minutes don't matter. Crazy. You make me high. I do not care for the season. It's like nothing has ever mattered to me.
Now it's just me and my red dress. Broken down to every pore. Broken down to every syl-la-ble. I will come and I will take what's mine.
If you refuse to fall down at my feet, I'll make you stumble. I will make you stammer when ever you open your mouth. I used to know you. You used to know me. Everyone stumbles. You can not always be sure. I should forget you. I will forget you. But I have this vague symbol of you. It shall drown.
Red dress. Broken shoes. I will come. I will claim what is mine. I do not know what the right time is. I don't need to know anything. Minutes don't matter. Crazy. You make me high. I do not care for the season. It's like nothing has ever mattered to me.
Now it's just me and my red dress. Broken down to every pore. Broken down to every syl-la-ble. I will come and I will take what's mine.
If you refuse to fall down at my feet, I'll make you stumble. I will make you stammer when ever you open your mouth. I used to know you. You used to know me. Everyone stumbles. You can not always be sure. I should forget you. I will forget you. But I have this vague symbol of you. It shall drown.
Monday, April 9, 2012
Happy Birthday, Dad
Calling was the least I could do, she thought to herself. It was his birthday, her own father's birthday, and all she was able to do was send a message. It's not that she couldn't have called. If she wanted, she could have even visited the man, but she didn't want to have anything to do with him. She had gone through too much pain to ever forgive the man. She could barely face the fact that he was her own father. As a child she learned that the most important thing in ones life is their own family. We were to love them unconditionally. For Vera the lesson came down bad, very bad. She loved her parents more than she loved anything else in the entire universe. Her mother's parent's had died while she was still a small baby. They both died of ill heart. Her father's parents, on the other hand, were still alive, but Vera knew nothing of them. Vera was not the only one who strongly disliked her father. His family had never truly loved him. Vera speculated that this was the reason why her father, Leo, was never able to love anyone. He though he was in love with Vera's mother when the pair of them got married and had their only child. He thought that he was a different man than what his parent's and brother used to know. But as Vera grew older, Leo started to avoid his own daughter. He claimed that he had more important things to do, and so he never spared any time to spend with his child. Soon he almost never came home, Veras mother, naturally, would get upset. In a few more years the woman could stand it no more and she filed a divorce. It was a battle for everyone involved, but somehow they had all survived. Everyone was broken hearted.
However, today was Leo's birthday. He was turning 60. He lived in a state far away from where Vera was staying. She didn't love the old man despite everything. She cared for him, but it was far from love. She was going to get married in a month. He wasn't invited.
However, today was Leo's birthday. He was turning 60. He lived in a state far away from where Vera was staying. She didn't love the old man despite everything. She cared for him, but it was far from love. She was going to get married in a month. He wasn't invited.
Sunday, April 8, 2012
Continuous
***
It's about continuity, about being able to move on. Don't hit me so hard, I get the message all right, I simply disagree. Once a step has been made forward, there is no way back, keep going you fool. You're a child. We're all children. And we all disagree on something, so somehow we all how something in common. You shall not sleep alone tonight. You're friends are ass holes. Neh, for all I know You have no friends. So let the world turn, it will never stop. Meanwhile You write, just keep writing. It's Your thing, so keep writing.
Never stop.
It's a terrible time to be alone. But aren't we always alone? Despite all those people that are right there beside us, we always feel alone. I always feel alone.
I like being alone. Let's keep it that way.
***
The tail begun in north west England. It was autumn. The trees were getting ready for the winter. The ground froze every other night. The weather was changing. The sun had decided to stay abroad for longer hours, while I was busy thinking of next weeks plans.
It's about continuity, about being able to move on. Don't hit me so hard, I get the message all right, I simply disagree. Once a step has been made forward, there is no way back, keep going you fool. You're a child. We're all children. And we all disagree on something, so somehow we all how something in common. You shall not sleep alone tonight. You're friends are ass holes. Neh, for all I know You have no friends. So let the world turn, it will never stop. Meanwhile You write, just keep writing. It's Your thing, so keep writing.
Never stop.
It's a terrible time to be alone. But aren't we always alone? Despite all those people that are right there beside us, we always feel alone. I always feel alone.
I like being alone. Let's keep it that way.
***
The tail begun in north west England. It was autumn. The trees were getting ready for the winter. The ground froze every other night. The weather was changing. The sun had decided to stay abroad for longer hours, while I was busy thinking of next weeks plans.
Saturday, April 7, 2012
First (&story of Pedro)
No rules, no nothing.
I can write what ever comes to my mind. I can even write things that never come to my mind. I can write. I can choose not to write anything. I can pick and choose what to write. I can write the truth, and I can write fiction. I can write a soup of words. I can write in numbers. One-Two-Three. Here I go. I will WRITE.
***
It was dark. Mid Brazil, middle of the night. The poor old man was lost, and had no way of turning back. It was back then when there were no technologies on the go. The most recent thing was the first radio, and only the rich ones were wealthy enough to own one. The man had decided to surprise his wife by showing up at her door steps. He had been proclaimed missing for the last ten years. And even though for the past few years he had been embracing a whole new life, now he really was lost. To make him more miserable, he had no loved ones that would go searching for him here right now. He couldn't believe what was happening. More than anything he just wished there was a way out. He wished that he could catch a gold fish, or a mermaid, or maybe pull a Genie out of an old bottle that was lying in the moss. He regretted even thinking of this, but he wished that he hadn't come here today. He was not prepared for this. For a while he speculated that maybe this is some TV show to make fun at people for getting lost so easily. He had been living in this area before he had gone missing. However, he couldn't recognise anything. He felt like he had never been there before.
Had he been there?
He grew up in the city of Sao Paulo, one of the best known cities in the country. When he met his wife at a job conference in Porto Alegre he knew that this woman was special. He and his wife were both teachers. He thought history, while she thought Portuguese. He had noticed her at a meeting; she had long, wild hair and eyes in the colour of the devil. He loved her deep, dark eyes. Later that day at a informal party he had asked her for a dance, but she refused claiming that she was at the event with a partner. He kept looking at her all night long, wishing he could have just that one dance. It seemed odd to the man, she was alone all night. Pedro, let's say that was his name, never saw anyone else walk up to the young gal. He knew nothing about her, but he felt like all his senses were going mad for just this one human being. Could one really go mad for one person?
The conference was not over yet. It would go on for another two days, so Pedro hoped that he'd have at least one more chance to meet this woman. That night he saw her in his dream. They were at a vineyard picking grapes for that seasons vine. It was to be the best in many years, claimed the owner of the vineyard. This was due to the perfect amount of sunlight the fruit had gotten this year. Other years there had been either too many clouds covering the sun, or there had been terrible droughts. In the dream, he avoided touching her, somehow it had seemed like a sin, to touch her. He watched her pick the ripe berries and pop some of them in her mouth. How he wished he could kiss those satin lips.
The next morning Pedro woke up with an unbearable head ache. Every pore of his body hurt. He though someone had drugged him, or maybe he just had too much vine in the previous evening. He was not sure of what had happened; it didn't matter. He would keep moving for the hope to see his mystery girl again.
***
tbc (maybe) :D
I can write what ever comes to my mind. I can even write things that never come to my mind. I can write. I can choose not to write anything. I can pick and choose what to write. I can write the truth, and I can write fiction. I can write a soup of words. I can write in numbers. One-Two-Three. Here I go. I will WRITE.
***
It was dark. Mid Brazil, middle of the night. The poor old man was lost, and had no way of turning back. It was back then when there were no technologies on the go. The most recent thing was the first radio, and only the rich ones were wealthy enough to own one. The man had decided to surprise his wife by showing up at her door steps. He had been proclaimed missing for the last ten years. And even though for the past few years he had been embracing a whole new life, now he really was lost. To make him more miserable, he had no loved ones that would go searching for him here right now. He couldn't believe what was happening. More than anything he just wished there was a way out. He wished that he could catch a gold fish, or a mermaid, or maybe pull a Genie out of an old bottle that was lying in the moss. He regretted even thinking of this, but he wished that he hadn't come here today. He was not prepared for this. For a while he speculated that maybe this is some TV show to make fun at people for getting lost so easily. He had been living in this area before he had gone missing. However, he couldn't recognise anything. He felt like he had never been there before.
Had he been there?
He grew up in the city of Sao Paulo, one of the best known cities in the country. When he met his wife at a job conference in Porto Alegre he knew that this woman was special. He and his wife were both teachers. He thought history, while she thought Portuguese. He had noticed her at a meeting; she had long, wild hair and eyes in the colour of the devil. He loved her deep, dark eyes. Later that day at a informal party he had asked her for a dance, but she refused claiming that she was at the event with a partner. He kept looking at her all night long, wishing he could have just that one dance. It seemed odd to the man, she was alone all night. Pedro, let's say that was his name, never saw anyone else walk up to the young gal. He knew nothing about her, but he felt like all his senses were going mad for just this one human being. Could one really go mad for one person?
The conference was not over yet. It would go on for another two days, so Pedro hoped that he'd have at least one more chance to meet this woman. That night he saw her in his dream. They were at a vineyard picking grapes for that seasons vine. It was to be the best in many years, claimed the owner of the vineyard. This was due to the perfect amount of sunlight the fruit had gotten this year. Other years there had been either too many clouds covering the sun, or there had been terrible droughts. In the dream, he avoided touching her, somehow it had seemed like a sin, to touch her. He watched her pick the ripe berries and pop some of them in her mouth. How he wished he could kiss those satin lips.
The next morning Pedro woke up with an unbearable head ache. Every pore of his body hurt. He though someone had drugged him, or maybe he just had too much vine in the previous evening. He was not sure of what had happened; it didn't matter. He would keep moving for the hope to see his mystery girl again.
***
tbc (maybe) :D
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