A good feeling

I don't want much
Just a feather touch
Of your fingers
On mine
Cheesy
Not so easy
But its ok to want
Its ok to be
Under the clouds
And screens
Showing us
What we
Want to see
Like finding
Dinosaur's head
A baby's bed
A half eaten
Piece
Of bread
Or dragons
Wagons
With horses
And other
Pretty things
Its ok to want
Its a good feeling.

Living being

Birth life and death
Are the same for
Everyone
Every being
Every thought
Every image
Every person
Every relationship
Every laugh
Every tear
Its in acceptance
Of it
The process
The nature
The beauty
Of it all
When we
Do away
With reliability
With dependability
With expectancy
With looking forward to
Living being
We are living being
Living beings
Talked so casually
About
You are a being
Which is inside
An insight
To you
Not your mind
Not your body
Not your love
Hatred
Hope
Depression
Success
Guilt
Irritability
Or any of
Them
Many of them
Together
Just being
In the moment
And humans
Are lucky
To be able
To be
The way
They are
Just being
You know
Human being.

Prostitutes

I don't like 

comparing

but now that you

have

let me begin

I see these

so called

men with

rationality

with egos

harder 

than their 

hard ons

impotent

unjust

unworthy

swinging

between their dreams

teaching others

preaching others

ridiculing mothers

calling others

prostitutes

as if 

prostitutes

are not people

not beings

but 

dirt

(that they often dream of)

and for

some reason

some funny reason

their 

own will 

wisdom

has turned to 

treason

for they cant see

the rationality

prostitutes have

the level of acceptance

the level of pain

they have conquered

they keep 

telling me

to focus 

on the wants

to focus on the

goals

not what

you don't want

good

thanks

thank you

for that freedom

but wait 

you turn around

and slap me

with your

impotence

while

you blow

the corporate 

day in

day out

playing with 

their balls

made of

measurable

freedom

but only to

a certain limit

a certain limit?

are you for real?

you fuckin unpolished

shoe's heal

of the one sitting

on top

of your corporate

food chain

and you talk of freedom?

and poets

are not paid well

and poems

do not sell well

just b'coz

you can't measure

such depths

with your

dirty

little circle 

of paper exchanging

hearts and dreams

my poems aren't 

worth

your fuckin paper money 

they are worth

the paper they exist on

worth the hearts 

they heal

and if my poetry 

can not feed me

id rather die hungry

for my soul feeds

on feelings

on patterns

on love

and if you cant exchange that

for the same

then fuck you

i'd rather die hungry. 

Titled tornadoes

winds from

one dimension

fire from

another

water from

the thoughts within

earth

from another

brothers

of stones

and grains

and strains 

of you

and me

jump

laugh

move

excite

waves

from the sea

whales from

the sea

are swimming

right now

looking for 

another

some bird just

formed a nest somewhere

a caterpillar died

a bee fed

it's queen bee

a carcass

just dried

a star just smashed

into another

earth rotates

still

waters crashing 

On the rocks

On the rocks

a whiskey please

buying drinks

that guy 

for her

expecting love

in exchange 

of some whiskey

whiskey

isn't his

neither is the body

nor the love

he's still trying hard

he is still hard

she is shy

the wales swimming

stars crashing

cars crashing

lets get out of here

she says

he won

what did he win

or did she?

the whales in the sea

are swimming

this very second

someone just poured

some wine

with tears dripping down

with laughter

with cheers screaming out

a dream got

fulfilled today

a master just died

the whales in the sea

and the honey bees

swimming

in dimensions

of their own

why tornadoes? 

you know what i'm 

saying

and here is you

with your eyes

on this

very dot

.

now.  

Waking up.

He kept twisting and turning in his bed. The thought of her gave hive him this painful sensation between his chest. He was in between sweating and feeling cold. It was around 3 am. 'Why am I even alive?' He asked himself. He couldn't understand why it was important to love, important to express his emotions at all. Why couldn't everyone just be happy?  Why couldn't he feel her hands underneath the bedsheets he wore? Why was it so important to feel? Why was it important to experience?  What was importance after all?  And soon the morning skies blushed for him and he frowned upon them.

It was a Wednesday, and to think of sitting in front of the desk and bear those people again just because he had to, wasn't very appetizing.  He had dreams of big cars and big houses. He had dreams of a better girl he had fallen for. His dream girl was in every girl he met, a little of her hair in one, the eyes in the other, the voice, the lips, the brains, almost as if his mind was scattered all over in women he met, didn't meet and those that he wished for.  The question was about playing with standards of himself. Setting them, breaking them, rising above and falling below.  He switched his tap on to wash his face; to wake up to real and tangible reality for that moment to the next and if anyone asked he would say he is happy in life. Such intimate boredom. 

First time

Its
The first
Time
I have
Acknowledged
The kiss
Of
The first
Sunlight
Surfacing
Momentarily
Unconditional
Feeling
The
Distance
On
My skin
The one
It traveled
For
Me

Its
The first
Time
I have felt
The autopiloted
Lungs
Making
Me feel
Alive
With
Its strange
Sensation

Its
The first
Time
I have
Heard
The sounds
The vibes
Being able
To hear
Is such
A miracle
Right
Now

Its
The first
Time
I have
Touched
My face
To touch
My face
For
The first
Time

Its the
First time
I have
Felt
Everything
Through
Senses
Undiscovered
A feeling
Beyond
A physical
Contact
A happening
A symphony
The never-ending
Symphony
And you
Are Just
An instrument
Meaningless
Like the sun
Like your smile
Like the planets
Like the dew
Like the honey
Like the snow
Or the rain
Or
The river's
Flow
For meanings
Are limited
To our minds
To blind
Us from
The true
The real
All the time.

Happy feet

Look
The feet
Have traveled
Far
And its
Only
A fresh
New start
Here and
Now
Be assured
The feet
Will walk
Till the very
Start
Of endings
Of the limited
Time
Where you
Will walk
With your
Hands
In mine
Distance is
But a thought
Your feet
Believe
Not
Just walk
They instead
Feel the distance
Feel the heat
Feel resistance
Feel tired
Feel revoked
Feel content
Rest assured
Tingling after
Evening bath
Soft and nice
For a fresh
New start
Let me hold
Let me bless
While you
Sleep
Taking rest
Let me see
And adore
Such pretty
Feet
After all.

Beyond

All ends are
To begin
All beginnings
Are to end
It all magnets
To the vibe
We send
Rules
All broken
Passions
End in
Tears
Happiness'
Mortality
Is held
By our fears
And now
Is the moment
In the
Measurable
Time
When
Measurable
You
Can be
Measurably
Mine
Beyond
All the
Leaves
And beyond
All the trees
Beyond
All butterflies
And beyond
All bees
Beyond
This time
Beyond
When we
Are free
Beyond
What you
Hurt
And beyond
What you
Heal
Beyond
All your luck
Beyond
All your
Unfinished
Breeze
Is how
Calm
You can
Ever
Be
And you
Can only be
For these
Eyes
Are too small
For all
Of it
To see
What would
You have
Done
To have
Known
Everything
You'd
Have
Split
Yourself
In you
Split yourself
In me
Split
Yourself
Into
Flowers
Split
In its
Seed
But hey
You
Know
What?
Look around
Well done
Bro
Well done.

This business

I can see
Me
On the surface
Of the
River
Which
Flows
Silently
Like time

My image
Once
Leaves
The surface
Of the river
Scattering
Perception
Light
Colours
Vibes
And
By the time
It touches
The surface
Of my
Eyes
Transferring
Thought
Emotion
Feeling
Wonder
Pride
Ego
Wonder
Vibes
The surface
Of my eyes
Feels impotent
Unimportant
Coz
It couldn't
Show me
What had
To be seen
For my
Mind
Minds
This business. 

Feelingful.

To the noise
In the body
To the pressure
Behind
The neck
To this
Screeching
Preaching
Comfortably
Abused
Not cared
For
Not prayed
For
Not made
For
Not staying
For
Not lying
To
Not trying
To
Not being
With
Not seeing
Through
This mortality
Now rated
Higher
Than what
We need
Our
Souls
For
What you
Feed your
Souls with
How you
Hear
The soul's
Call
Follow
Wallow
Smell
Swallow
Stop and smell the roses

Stop

This moment

Is

What is.

Water the weed

A dream
Is
Essentially
A perception

A dream
Is made
Of glimpses

Those micro
Seconds
When
You are not
Your body
Or mind
You are but
A process
A happening
A transformation
The continuous
Transformation
Now showing off
In glimpses
The web
Of energy seems
To be smiling

Those glimpses
Are of
Vibrations
You've turned
Into

A dream
Is what is
The manifestation
Of Your fears
And love
And memories

It is an expression
By yourself
To yourself
From your self

And if we
Still resist
Those dreams
Persist
In limbos
In loops
In daily life
Almost as if
Perfected
To be living
In a certain way.

Do not resist
And save
Your perception
Some beautiful time
To be spent with
Her lover
Her love
Just her love
For love doesn't
Happen
With a person
It only happens
For a perception
A thought
A creation of oneself
A way to divide
And when
You are looking
For the smiles
In your lovers face
Its because you
Love the lovers
Face
Being proud
Of your loved
Ones
Means being
Proud of the
Choices
You've made

A dream
Is the seed
Of
The reality

Water the weed too
Water it well.