Saturday, 2 March 2013

When They Come

Life is a very funny thing
It is a dance of paradise and hell
There is so much I need to tell
I don't even know where to begin
I just want to climb a cliff and yell

We were never explained
That it is so innocent and simple
To fall in love
And it is so cheap and worthless to lose what's made
Nobody told us when we were children
Our teachers failed
In our bedtime stories we were never warned
Of the power of memories, of their sword
As everything comes and everything goes
The power of memories follows
Because we fell in love when they came
And were torn apart when they came way

Life is a very funny thing
We watch things we love the most getting old
And coming to pass
It is in the heart of the worst drunkard
That it is a matter of moment
When they will come for her

We are so unlucky
Because we were all born of this Earth
Where happiness is as light as a feather
And so out of this world
Sometimes it seems like we were born to hurt
And we fight our best friends for her
Leaving them behind in dirt

Life is a very funny thing
Because even when we get what we want
Breaking all the rules and stabbing all the knives
We know that in our hands lays a feather
That some day they will come for her

So when you get her, enjoy her, turn the music and sing
Because it's a matter of moment when will they come
For life is a very funny thing


My dream is to become a god,
envy to all, just be above
all that try to contemplate me,
to understand me,
me, and my glorious ways
that guide their petty little days.

Yes, I would like to be a god.
Hold your gifts, they don't please me -
just be amazed by me.
Love me more than your wives and husbands,
come to worship me in thousands.
Write legends about me and my existence,
rejoice in me and my presence
and cry so badly in my absence.

For I am god and I am better than you,
more worthy than you.
I am something more so worship me,
write songs about me.
Let me be the spring of your happiness
without ever having to give myself.
Let me have you.


I essayed to call into being a song
I sighed for thoughts which would belong
But words could not be uttered by my tongue
Calling forth a blow to my spirit as I remained headstrong

I inquired into matters of routine
I tasted its fruit but it was saline
Then reached for branches of innovation but they appeared pristine
Turned to the garden of romance but it failed to keep me keen

A whim dubbed me beneath the legs of Adam and Eve
Towards their delusion of the divinity and their grief
I cast a glance at the contemplation on the divine and one's belief
Spared an inch of time for things a bit impossible to conceive

My mind appeared to be delighted by this subject
As far as my tongue was concerned a poetic word was no more a reject
A spring inside me started to flow, started to eject
Verses of the celestial, written out of admiration and respect

Saturday, 23 February 2013

The Father and The Silence

I had The Father from the beginning
From the moment my first memory was born
My first prayer was the one of thanks
For the most trivial cause - a salvaged vase

My mother told me to kneel with her
We put our hands together and prayed
For the goodness of The Father who laid
His hand on our household that day

I had A Father from the beginning
From the moment my first memory was born
My second prayer was the one of request
About a dear bought gift I possessed

It was nothing special, an ordinary present
But it was a dear bought gift for me
It was nowhere to be found and I was just an infant
Setting my mind upon it

I was hearing a sound from the beginning
From the moment my first memory was born
The first time I heard it was when my little heart was torn
It is a sound of plain silence, loud as a horn

I had a Father from the beginning
From the moment my first memory was born
My third and my fourth and my fifth prayers were the ones of varieties
They were prayers of a young man stung by joys and thorns

These years I will remember for the rest of my life
Years of the first mercies and the first strifes
Times when I learned to wish for somebodies instead of somethings
Times when He gave me things - instead of my soul's cravings

I was hearing a Sound from the beginning
From the moment my first memory was born
The third and the fourth and the fifth time I heard it was the time when my heart was worn
By its plainness silence, loud as a horn

I had a father from the beginning
From the moment my first memory was born
My last player was the one of swear
That I will make Him an object of my scorn

I wrote a song to Him
And its name was Goodbye
It mentioned a few good times
But it was about endless fights

I was hearing The Sound from the beginning
From the moment my first memory was born
It was a sound of silence, loud as a horn
And I can't bear it no more

Monday, 18 February 2013

The Loudest of All Yellers

Our world, our only home
Has changed its feathers
But it became an utterly different bird too
Hoovering over universe 's domes
The loudest of all yellers

With its fierce hawk eyes
And claws clenched for a strike
It couldn't really catch any pray
For when danger's on the rise
Scared to death
It shies away
From any real fight

Wings that are carrying our days
Are wings of a queer bird
Of disheleved and thin plumage
A quizzical detail of a funny looking image
Seeing that it avoided skirmishes from its birth

Ask anyone from its flock
They know chronicles of this creature
They would tell you stories of the proud flyer
With flying capacities of a rock

In the quietest of conversations
You would hear the story of a genius
With clumsy thoughts and skilful words

Taking itself much too serious