beholdabluehorse

De profundis clamavi How easy it is to betray yourself Like a sleepwalking pirouette, One graceful spin, And the shadows swallow you whole There are no sad goodbyes When you betray yourself No bitter kisses, No mournful grips, Just hazy and playful touches As you sip from the drunken night There are no memories When you betray yourself Just a story Being rewritten By assuring, foreign hands Foreign powers, if you may A sweet noise that covers The remains of your fatal plunge No one mourns you When you betray yourself As no one knows you are dead It's the most cheerful sanatorium If I ever saw one In the eyes of others You took your first st

Dormea înghiţit de noapte satul La umbra lui, stâlcita siluetă            Scrijelea visul unei târzii jivine, Trecător tăcut spre ploaia măruntă de toamnă La marginea patului,            O bătrână-şi cheamă copiii.            Doi ochi scârţâind umil in orbite.            Prin geam, fantoma unui câine aşteptându-şi stăpânul Circul a sosit. Tot noaptea, Dar numai cei somnanbuli mai aplaudau mecanic Închipuirea unui număr de acrobaţie, Căci Circul nu mai era demult şi zilele curgeau    

"I want to sing to you/ A song of bells and butterflies", I said And she turned her head and smiled – My butterflies are dead Or drowned along this young maid's dress, this tailored body slumbers in "I want to sing to you this pretty mess" I said, "But they keep rushing in With god-fearing daggers to feast upon the cries of the unwanted ones" She smiled again, "Come, dance with me tonight"                                                                                    "Tomorrow I'll be gone" "I want to sing to you", I used to say … those murky nights in cheap hotels When you would be the bleeding edge of every smile, my

*** „ S-a terminat" se auzi vocea lui, ca de nicăieri, „ m-am săturat de jocurile tale, m-am săturat sa mă iau dupa gura ta că poate-poate într-un final am să înţeleg şi eu ceva, de acum, eu decid". Ipocrit cititor, seamănul meu, frate(da, da, ştiu, nu-mi aparţine), dacă acel timbru vocal nu ar fi fost clar masculin aş fi putut jura că sunt bântuit de fantoma vreunei dame  deranjate vizibil de suita mea de rocade sentimentale sau de careurile de asi şutate mai mult în porţile vecinilor, decât in poarta ei( deşi îi exp

"I am an arm of Your God"(Opium: Diary of a madwoman) * They say I can forgive These arms lying empty before me, The voice sealed shut, Yours or mine... They said you will return, So I waited With pages bleeding wide open My story, don't you remember? You used to love its broken bones inside me When I was girl, I lost my right arm And then they came And taught me How to betray my angels They said you will return And so you did Pale, empty and cold Only but shadow of what you used to be You smiled as if to remind yourself Of who we were A kiss. Long and hopeless My dogs bit you that night, Tore the flesh apart becaus

Închide-mi, Doamne, hăului,  Urletul spart de ploi stâlcite de lanţuri Şi geamătul surd scuipat pe obraz de femeie Căci demult nu mai sunt cel ce visează,  De când visele îmi umblă desculţe Pe drumul în care dezmăţul şi dezminţirea  Poart acelaşi chip De când Tu ai adormit,  Adorm la umbra coastei mele  Şi zâmbetul   Şi ocara  ...Adorm la umbra coasei mele...  Casei mele născute la capul   Neliniştei  Căci nu m-ai învăţat sa fiu orb   Şi surd  La cuvântul Tău

The hidden portrait Hope – a fleeting choir of barren angels          Upon my the garden where I laid         My final thorns or thoughts unsaid         A crooked ghost of an young Abel        The day when my glass whispers fled... Hope – In, oh, my burning madness, thee I wed... Enough! No more these hands can bear, The echoes of my longing, olden, Alone with olden books, and olden chairs And remnants of an ashen day once golden Wilst thou kiss me before thine flesh I tear? Enough! Oh, nay...      [This perfumed coffin has sealed you(r) love beholden!] Lover – embrace these words undone Embrace from my embr

In all the dreams my searing wounds have grown Flesh from my flesh, cry from cry There was an echo of an august dawn When her pale ghost took form before my very eyes Upon the garden where I, these eerie seeds have sown ...these seeds that I now reap alone... Her voice was like a sweet, but poisoned wine, A dreaded liquor, only lovers cherished And spilled voiceful drops upon their numb decline Alas, yet  how did their armies have perished Now only echoes haunt their wretched shrines And  echoes only, so calm and painfully do bury Their cries...faded entwined... "Hush" she whispered and took me by the hand Into the ligh

She painted sunsets yet unborn Flesh from her flesh, cries from her cry An obscured fading muse, upon a pale July Wherein she healed her frail spells now torn Wherein ever so silently she faked a smile There was a lighthouse, just few dreams away Where she would meet the ones she used to love And for a night would wander the mysteries of May But may this bring solace to such a deepened woe She nod her head, alone, haunted by dismay. She nodded and the angels walked away... Where they have gone? In all my rooms forlorn I cannot gaze, nor can this bottomless well Unveil the fiendish wicked nature nature of the spell I carry for ae

Ultima noapte de dragoste, prima noapte de poker * S-au cunoscut întâmplător cu patru ani urmă, ea prefaţând o carieră juranlistica de succes, el schiţând un straniu, dar prietenos comportament, ea rezervată că un g3 în deschidere, el dalinist ca un h5, ea full de aşi cu dame, el chintă spartă, ea irish cofee, el tequilla sunrise, ocazional câte un pasager indiscret, ea 6-6 poartă-n casă şi casă la capătul nopţii, cu alte cuvinte un meci indecis, indecisiv, ca o incizie repetată-n gând, pendulând între ri