Faces & mAsKS

I go to the mirror

I stare

I gaze

deep beyond my brown windows

it is dark and void and light gets trapped

I see the mirror

and in the mirror lies a face

the face of me

one, of the many that I wear

but long has been since it was mine

behind these faces that I wear

lies bones, and flesh, and silence…

…a man, vile and concealed,

from me from you

and those th’art near.

I’m OK

I am just fine

But deep, twist coils like snakes, my soul

and thoughts drown it so gently’n poisons.

Today I’m using my face No.3

all happy and cheerful

so magically

Façade the pain in veils of smiles,

no mourn dwells here

just fun and wild

and Happy

al’round.

At down

a face so young so ‘pure’…

With eyes like coloured jewels

strewn across its face

and twisted lips, like luscious lies,

Embellish its fine shades

At noon

a face of vice delight

That lets you not, plunge beneath the surface of the eyes.

At night I picked somewhat a treat

a face of morbid sights,

Like shadows

fall

beyond the pale of glass-like floors

were freedom dwells not evermore.

One, two, three … two hundred and four

Each day, each month, each passing year

A new face for each moment’s call…

Sometimes so fast I change my masks

that my hands fade

and seem a blur

like angel wings in front of gods

or smoke and dust at twilight.

I dare not close, not for one glimpse, my eyes

Fearing,

not to crush between my eyelids,

this World of mine

to hear it not, as it shatters loudly

like a peanut between the teeth.

How long will I be able to steel away from sleep?

How long will I be able to keep it alive?

Behind my many masks and faces,

empty truth and demons lie

Behind the rosy tinted smiles and laughter

grins of devilish gazes fill the empty spaces

of the mirrors of my broken sea of souls

in which

in past

some light had shone

but not its dead

and dark

and all that’s left

is a cupboard filled with

faces.

...

Cease the path, I know that where
there is no death there is no love…and still I pray
God stop, the sands of time
With which you measure the disgrace.

The world is an empty railway-station of which I know nothing but what I see. Sometime it seems that many years have passed since anyone stepped on the dusty platform and the air has glued to the walls like ghostly rust.
The clock…only the minute hand still swirl. The other hand stands still, it’s stuck in the silt of an hour and ceased to move. Time swings like waves of a indecent voluptuousness which smashes against the hips of The Universe.

Silence strike’s against the trunks, intertwines,
unbinds away far and balleys the choreography of death towards the everlasting earth.
Sun becomes sand and
the sky offers itself to the waters below.

From now it’s only play…

The daughter of the earth,
the night
her breasts in thorns of chimerical mystery she fences

sleep now I,
that the veil will turn to mystery
and the whole world is brewed
from your soul…

The evening burning wind
will kiss the sky at dusk
and cheeks of heaven stained be them
with lipstick and music’s blood marks.

The night demon holds like in his hands the earth’s sky
and blows over it flames like over tinder
suddenly to ignite it.

Oblivion comes …it’s here
a tear smashes on the breast of your soul the silence.

Thirsting, I drink your scent and grip your cheeks
with palms both, as you grasp
within your soul a wonder.


There’s so much silence all around that I can seem to hear the sound,
as how unto crystal windows smash the rays of moon and stars…


In clear out far hear I within the chest of the tower
as like a heart, beat bells
and in sweet whispers
seems
that drops of silence rush through my veins, not blood.

With daring smiles I gaze within me
my heart
and grasp it tight into my hand.

The light rushing in my chest
I feel each time you spring forth my eyes,
is it not a pearl drop from the light
forged on The First Day
from that light deeply thirsting for life?

Your eyes, deep, are the spring
from which mystically the night flows over valleys
mountains and over plains
covering the land
with sea of blue darkness damp with love.

At dawn when day will light the night
when night’s ashes will perish and gone
with a wind to sunset
in the spring of day, I’d wish we too would be
ash
just us… and earth.

The Sun in it’s rise…of blood in the ocean washes
the spears, with which in haste the night has killed
such as a beast…

The sins of my eyes I wash in the water of the sky,
I chew the dried-up core of silence’s damp scream
And the flesh of the rocks of hate dry and wither all away.

The landscapes of our souls are lit,
And from your embrace sail ships of passion and ….

Cast ourselves we shall in love’s hot furnace
Oh brew us a potion strong for the Gods
One gold drop of blood wine passion
Elixir of death
to brings us back to heaven’s sweet sleep,
and dreams,
and silence,
and ….

love I shall you evermore…

Why do you fade, and wipe yourself from my kiss,
when from the earth beneath spring sleep and dreams…
If closeth my eyes I shall, crush you I might beneath my eyelids.


If full stop shall I be a comma you will be
And turn around if I shall you’ll transform into a pillar of salt and melt in the eve of a breath
If embrace you I shall I won’t bring myself to let go missing not having had you at all.


Write I shall with my body the life and journey of stars that fell in the living body of the turquoise vanilla sky…
and the blue abyss of my black eyes, foresee I shall myself embraced by the night of your hair;


The root of my vibration mangle you shall with daggers of words
words that spoil with dew of death on lips the flame of madness
and pour the mist of my soul through your fingers.


Drown we shall in blinding darkness,
Closeth your soul in a cage of hate,
Imprison my soul in crystal green fences and jaded locks
and melt we shall our hearts in love’s sweat of an eternal whisper:

love I shall you evermore…

Special Dedication to The Gorgeous Person J

the morning mirror

The morning mirror. Is the first thing you do. You sit in front of it and you prepare. You repeat, without realizing, your role. It’s the role of your life. A role with which you have almost fallen in love with. You are actually dependent on it.
You come out of the house, and in front of you, the door, as a curtain, opens widely. From now on, darkness spreads out. The quotidian darkness, with smell of old chairs, with blunted red velvet. Smells like a theatre hall. It’s the theatre house in which you live your life.

In front of you spread thousands of spectators. Some of them come daily and watch you. Others are new. There, somewhere, in the shadows of the hall, are thousands of souls that sit and watch. They admire, envy, hate or adore you. They are those to whom, you perform each day after day.

You begin to play. Suddenly appeared on your retina, the light of the reflectors announce the beginning. The play has started. The lines flash in your mind, without too much thought, and the blower you have dismissed from the beginning. You are alone on the stage. You glimpse, in the backstage, your colleagues’ eyes. They’re your stage colleagues but they’re not playing in this scene. In the face of the spectators you stand alone. You and them, face to face. But the hall is dark. Just a few glass-like eyes take your breath. They’re the ones awaiting insatiately for you to hinder, hamper and stumble on your lines. They can’t grasp why you act as such and not differently. They’re disappointed of you, and never again will they come see you perform your role. They will leave the darkness of your theatre hall, well before the play has ‘sung’ it’s last line. But outside awaits the real darkness.

Outside it’s night, but in your theatre house, in which day by day your act unfolds, the lights lit up. You receive your applause. The curtain falls.
You’re back home.

Dare take the first step. You need not see the stairs. Simply step on.
Imagination is the key. It’s the power of foreseeing what is to come in life.

The Eternal Tea Hut Of The Ages

As you might know, in the year 2737 b.Ch, the emperor Chen Nung discovered tea by accident, in his bowl filled with boiled water fell a few leafs from the tree under which the emperor was resting.
And so Tea came to be, and with time this recipe’s qualities were discovered.
Starting with the 4 century a.Ch, tea becomes very popular all through China and so giving birth to 3 great tea schools.

The TANG dynasty creates the boiled tea school- the tea was boiled with rice, ginger or orange peel, spices and even milk. Under the TANG dynasty a very popular saying was “a family cannot live a day without drinking tea”.

The SONG dynasty establishes the grinding tea school- this is about the Matcha tea powder , which is prepared by immediate infusion in boiled water, bearing a vegetable taste, green coloured and it’s used up to this day, mainly in pastry.

The MING dynasty developed the infused tea school, the thing we drink today, inserting (introducing) the tea in a filter and submerging it into boiled water.
These 3 schools were the founding spreaders of tea around the world. More and more famous Japanese monks came from all around to China in that period to study the art of Buddhism and up took the art of tea making back to their own country, Japan. One of the monks brought back to his country a few tea seeds to plant and so came to be the “tea ceremony”. Japanese sow this plant of more than a mere drink, giving it a spiritual connotation, that of spiritual enrichment, fulfilment and uplift.

Tea was introduced in Europe in the 13th century, by a Arab merchant, and after 1600, tea concurred the whole of Occidental Europe. Ludovic the XIVth was among the first to be fond of tea, he raised it’s status to “a royal drink”, “an aristocratic drink, at this point tea was actually competing with chocolate . The women from the French court had fallen irremediable in love with this potion and this is when the tabiet of pouring and drinking milk into the tea.

Today, the French drink about 100 cups/a year/per person, and were the first in the world to crate special mixtures of teas.
In England tea became a national drink in the XIXth century and Queen Victoria introduced the famous “Five O’clock Tea”

Sometimes there exist leafs that fall not to the ground, subject to gravity and earthy bounds, no matter how hard and strong the wind may blow; so do moments, people and facts exist that cannot be forgotten, although to forget is a part of the natural course of life. All that matters in life fully, truthfully and painfully is love.

Finding a place of solitude

....The sunset slowly igniting the sky in fiery shades of red and orange.

In the distance, dark clouds rolled oven in the horizon, riding the summer winds.

Soon day will give way to the night, and with it will come the silence that washes away everything...