Shooting Silence

‘Laying on my back,
‘Turning inside from Thought through another as slowly as Earth turns,
‘Passing over from Star to Star;
The whole Universe seems, cautiously, staring at my tranquil body and heeding at the Sand beneath me that suffers my weight;
The Ocean screeches its suffering…
The soft Breeze whispers a charming Fantasy…

Or is it only The Sound Of My Shooting Silence?!


To describe,
To write down the image that expands itself at my sight…
To shape out what strong feelings stream out of me in such tranquil condition,
Such tranquil Solitude …
To be able to Make one Understand,
…Need more than my trembling Hand Writing.
Since,
The Plain Words, once restrained mute in papers,
Lose around half of their full Meaning,
The vague amount needed to provide you the Right Taste of my Dream,
To Disclose what dreadfully Howls in my Mind…simply to Break Free…

Those were Plain Words to do erecT one great part of my Feeling in you,
The other part warily sparkles behind your closed Eyes and right through the Sound of my Shooting Silence!

The Big Empty, The I.

As empty as a liar, i stretch my mind until my nails slit and blossom on the second side
However, as desperate as one can be,
I only find a blank answer more disturbing than what has revealed it before.

A Dream.

Sometimes before I sleep, a Human Dream holds my mind by his hand and with his soft brush he paints,
From the lightest purple until the astounding wine-colored, a splendid voyage;
I close my eyes to feel the shiver sliding all over my skin in equal waves;
Letting lose myself in all of a sudden along with his verdant creativity,
Keeping my head high streaming in a smooth sky,
Jigging, from thought to thought,
Roaming through fine feelings toward thrilling sensations,
Becoming a prayer,
A fierce candle,
An ever returning echo,
A constant sacrifice,
To plead this Artist properly,
To sketch me bars and detain me forever inside his image;

I awake as the sun raises up to good-morning the mourning noises of Earth and an anxious Demon veils my brain as I start another day…

Aware, The Speed Of Life.

‘Waking up late one day,
‘Rushing up to feel the Sun,
‘Surfing the Skies with expectant Eyes together with a dreamy praying Heart…
But finding out early un-enough
That Time was greedily eating Himself
While an infidel Twilight has already drunk nearly most of Her Sun,
Leaving hanging-out, clearly in the distance,
A tear-pulling View
Where the last dimmest Lights,
Struggling uselessly,
Were being swallowed bit by bit
By fierce Serpents, Black as their God,
Growing in a terrifying speed,
Veiling the World,
From end to end,
By a peerless Night;

White Paper

Starting to write down on a white paper is a complex exertion especially when you feel as vacant as a white paper.

No words are yet invented to express what you need to write: somehow you believe!

You start to draw your anger, holding your pen like thirsty killers hold the dagger; you contaminate the paper with inky wounds of unidirectional lines over lines over circles and over lines.
Then you smash down the pen…
Rest your skull over the tormented sheet,
Tears break out for absolution.
Moments sprint,
…You grab the pen and you finish writing this paragraph.

Accidental Piece

Did she imply to deliver me here?
Did I intend to be what I am not?
If life was supposed to be a dream,
Will she remember me when she wakes up?
Will she make me real?
Is Earth a coincidence itself?
…after the burst and luckily came close by the Moon.
Is it the lone sunny explosion?
Or is it just the most recent one?
Is there any chance at all?
Is Fate just an invented criminal to clarify Coincidences?
Do we all pray for God?
Don’t we most of us pray for our hearts?
Would I recall these words by any possibility when her dream falls at Dawn?
Though I will hope she would make me real,
Would I regret she would?


It’s all about Coincidences and Coincidence does not stand for the occurrence of a Chance, maybe it only relies on a minor probability.

Our Simplicity

Beside all the Tiniest Things destined to Provoke our Planet's Reasons then -to-Take Charge of the Incoming Situations, our Unique Existence lays.

...and Nothing lays beside them.

The Neutral

It’s Strange, how people around me, Dearly, Enjoy and Party their Occasions together
As I stand,
Distorted,
Gnashing my teeth,
Encircled by a Collective Amusement that pleases me less,
Seeking the ability to connect same way as others can… although to me,
Yet Finding Out, Myself Faking,
‘Ending Up weeping …
Weeping in and in secret:
‘The Fake Smiles’, I Socially attempt to drag out from within;
‘The Fake Smiles’ which, even though socially, Sweat my senses while I’m pushing them the nearest to my face as best as I can Endure Pushing…

It’s Frightening to think of how Patient would I ever be to Endure Pushing more often as well as The Unstoppable Time will grow Older through me and my Tired Inspiration.

The Grey Space Of The Special Minds

Life Attacks...through different shapes;
And I’m not pointing out at ‘The Distinctions’ of our Seasons
Nor at our Poetic Skies
but at The Unreal, The Infinite, The Inner ‘Feelings’ as we, Here, call.

Those Feelings, which fall like rain falls
But from a Grey Space that, unfittingly, widens itself out,
However, ‘Only’ within Few Special Minds;
Minds that Journey through these -ALL- Abstract as well Fully-Private Visions;
Minds that Surf the Visions’ Enticing Waves until…
…One’s Soul Loses Control and Suffocates, weighed down, by their Epic Extremes…


“One of The Few happens to have a Paralyzed Muscle in the Brain forbidding his Condition to be Absorbed by any Repeated Man…
Only a True Friend, as Essential as a Limb, could be gifted the Skill to Listen and Discover, by himself, what lurks within The Un-vacant Silence that generates The Vital Air for the Friendship’s Survival, where no Dry Muscle could interfere since, Mechanically, They Both Go Astray, except as One, throughout that same Grey Space….
‘Hooked On that Deceitful Self Invented Liberty…”