You can't sink a rainbow.

MY NEW B'DAY LIST just so u know...pushing on 80)

2010-03-18T04:37:00.001-07:00

Bassoon Stuff
Puchner (but not picky, any professional 1 will do)
Reamer Rieger
Reed Guillotine
Reed

CDs

A Fine Frenzy -One cell in the sea
Pink
Robin Mckelle
Kurt Elling
Dianne Reeves
Kurt Elling
Any Smooth "Hot" Jazz
Whitney Houston
Tamela Mann
Al Jarreau
Billy Holiday
Luis Armstrong
Ella Fitzgerald
Michael Bubble
Elliott Yamin
Ray Charles

Movie DVDs

Paris Je T'aime
Amelie
Ashes and Snow
Baraka
R.E.N.T the musical
Wicked the musical
Spring Awakening the music
Die Vampire Die the musical

Telluric stuff like
brown, grey, earthy, green, olive, gray orange, bricky, colur stuff-ties, shirts (15" collar) trousars (30W 30L)....shoes (old school classics size 8 Uk/42 Europe)... socks of funky colours...

Candles
cinnimon, any weird and exciting spice

Spices

Flowers (sunflowers, daisies anything sunny and positive)

Speakers - Harman Kardon Soundsticks II

Poetry - Books, stickers, cards etc

Brain Orgasms

Faces & mAsKS

2010-01-26T16:53:00.000-08:00

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 now its dead

and dark

and all that’s left

is a cupboard filled with

faces.

...

2008-12-28T17:02:00.000-08:00

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…

2008-09-29T11:52:00.000-07:00

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

2008-09-09T15:55:00.000-07:00

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.

2008-06-15T13:21:00.000-07:00

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”

2008-05-29T10:02:00.000-07:00

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

2008-05-21T23:28:00.000-07:00

....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...

2008-05-21T16:30:00.001-07:00

Dream Box

I put my dreams in a box,

Along with secrets and desires

With poems and tears, and scribbled train tickets to heaven

and hid them away, far from the blaze of your eyes

Underneath the chapel of the cathedral of life

in soil, where white roses grow

and music echoes heavenly choirs rejoices.

Will they be safe from the world?

To whom, to whom?

2008-05-21T16:13:00.000-07:00

On the lip of my glas
Have thine lips strained…
Call I shall the norns
To bringeth me luck.

Holy glass,
carrieth me in thought and dreams…

How many glasses, hid have I in the cupboards of my soul
Bearing so many dried-up kisses?
To whom, to whom should I bow
To bringeth me back
True love?

Lunacy

2008-05-21T15:53:00.000-07:00

.Everybody needs a little lunacy. It’s what frees you from this world. It’s a wild "man" inside you. If, just for a moment, the world would stop, then you’d blink and in that glimpse you would see there’s a whole world within you, your imagination…

2008-05-21T15:49:00.001-07:00

Marea ruginita de timp

sub cearcanele norilor

s-a invelit in somn, ca intr-o blana de urs,

Si in acest somn, a ingropat

vorbele talmacite de

"h"armoniile

sirenelor...

2008-05-21T15:45:00.000-07:00

Fragil, facut parca din foita de aur, cerul se intindea in straturi subtiri peste oras, iar cu venirea muzei mele, noaptea, am tacut pentr-un moment, ca sa ascult cantecul duhurilor, cand freamata ca libelulele.

Psalm 23

2008-05-21T10:38:00.000-07:00

The Lord is my Shepherd; I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: He leadeth me beside the still waters. He restoreth my soul: He leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for His name' sake. Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: For thou art with me; Thy rod and thy staff, they comfort me. Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies; Thou annointest my head with oil; My cup runneth over. Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life, and I will dwell in the House of the Lord forever.

Unfortunately we always turn to GOD when there is no more hope, and we hit rock bottom...well I never thought that I would ever see this part of me...and I haven't in a very long time, but it seems that I just cant stay happy when I turn the "available" button...
I simply ruin everything and ... and everyone that I love, and in the end they all hate me in their own way even if they don't say it ...
at this point I really hate my all "dazzling and enticing" musician life...because I simply make sacrifices after sacrifices and in the end, as I found the hard way, there's no one there to share my hopes, love and not last my achievements.
I never thought that i would fall in love after all the failures that I have had in this department (and there have been quite a few...or more) but this last one had...the thing, the spark, that all lovely chemistry...and I singlehandedly managed to kill it, and drag other along with it ... and last night I just wished I could just die (and the worse part is that this time I really meant it)

When we allow God our shepherd to guide us, we have contentment. When we choose to sin, however, we go our own way and cannot blame God for the environment we create for ourselves (but we surely try to). Our shepherd knows the "green pastures" and "quiet waters" that will restore us. We will reach these places only by following him obediently. Rebelling against the shepherd's leading is actually rebelling against our own best interests. We must remember this the next time we re tempted to go our own way rather than the shepherd's way.

Death casts a frightening shadow over us because we are entirely helpless in its presence. We can struggle with other enemies -- pain, suffering, disease, injury, love -- but strength and courage cannot overcome death. It has the final word. Only one person can walk with us through death's dark valley and bring us safely to the other side -- the God of life, our shepherd. Because life is uncertain, we should follow this shepherd who offers us eternal comfort.

" and the single reason I'm writing this here is because no one actually reads this stuff, and even if they did I couldn't care less "

2008-05-15T17:51:00.000-07:00

A tender darkness
In which thy soul in loneliness with mine
can death in glimmering darkness meet,
and needing not to look
setting the sun from our eyes , we can see…

Let me light from your darkness
In fierce light,
Teach me to burn darkly,
Mold from your wings’ shape
My flame
And purge it of any colour.

I’ve anchored my heart in the rainbow ripples of a puddle
dripping from the soft sky of this eternal blaring silance,
and sunk myself into the coffee of your eyes
and ran down the dim lit paths of your hair…
and strayed through the city of your soul,
I stall to rest in the sketch of your lips, to breathe their shades…

Special dedication to my L...

Catedrala

2008-04-14T15:17:00.000-07:00

...Cerul ,brãzdat de-a latul de dungi castanii murdare şi albastru-verzui, atârna pânã aproape de cladarâm şi pe jos pete mari albe însemnau locurile unde se zdrobiserã nori a cupidoni cazuţi...

Uşa de la intrare se închisese în urmã cu zgomotul unui sãrut pe-un umãr gol.

Înauntru era cald şi mirosea a zahãr cu scorţişoarã îmbâcsitã cu religie.

Sub capela catedralei, pereţii erau vopsiţi cu muzicã şi sunet de coruri gregoriene.

La altar, a parintelui sfânt cuvânt îşi desfãcea razele pe îndelete şi le aventura, prevazator, prin locuri cu neputinţã de atins direct, curbându-le în unghiuri rotunjite şi undelemnii, dar se izbea de lucruri foarte negre şi atunci şi le retrãgea iute de tot, cu o mişcare nervoasã şi precisã de caracatiţã aurie.

În întuneric zeci de forme se înfundau pieziş printre valuri de pãcate dominate de cupole de sticlã care cãpãtau, la luminã, o sclipire verde-albãstruie şi nesigurã.

În ochii lor staruiau, apolinic, pictatele icoane plângând cu lacrimi mari, eliptice si mlãdioase, ingheţau cu o uşoarã trosniturã, se rostogoleau pe haine şi alergau prin praf.

Se aşternu o tãcere îmbelşugatã-n jur, şi cea mai mare parte a lumii începu sã valoreze pentru ei cãt o ceapã degeratã.

Sufletele aşteptau flamande precum vechile cerşetoare ascetice, bãtrâne şi împlântate la porţile metrourilor ce duc lenevos spre cerurile de piatrã şi carãmizi uzate.

În cristal , vinul auriu, greu şi fluid ca un eter apãsãtor luase o strãlucire fosforescentã şi nehotãrâtã, rãspânditã parcã de miriade de puncte luminoase de toate culorile.

Întunericul se închega în straturi concentrice în jurul micului nucleu luminos al lãmpii aprinse la capãtul altarului, încastratã în perete, închisã cu o placã rotunda de cristal mat.
va urma...

Music for a while

2008-04-14T15:04:00.000-07:00

Personajul meu reprezinta –concretul, masculinul, realul, …un muzician
El este construit pe o reflectare a omului din spatele lui…
adica: imbracamintea. materialul artistic si sentimental, ipostazele, ideile
o intreaga suita de defecte, cat si calitati

Personajul meu se materializeaza dintr-un context, civil, profan, al cotidianului de zi cu zi, un simplu spectator…care se dezbraca pentru un moment de hainele realitatii si intra intr-un atemporal…ca atunci cand esti indragostit, sau melancolic, sau extatic, sau depresiv, sau….

El, personajul meu, face parte din audienta, din public, din real… dar odata ce intra in acest spatiu, de detasaza din public intrand in atemporal.
Personajul meu are ca modalitate de exteriorizare arta sculpturilor sonore, adica muzica.
Muzica există cât exista un ritm, aşa cum există viaţă când există pulsatie. Deci muzica, este un paradox , o temporalitate intr-un spatiu fara timp.
Dar ca orice sentiment, sau mai bine spus multe dintre sentimente, el este efemer, asa este si aceasta meditatie fara timp… iar personajul meu reintra in randul realului, a profanului si devine din nou, spectator.

Lucrearea pe care el o sa interpreta se numeste Satya- sanscrita- „adevar”
Tot ce te aduce mai aproape de divinitate, si de launtrul tau. Mai este folosit ca termen religios in cultura africana , fiind de fapt un „ritual al tacerii”; nu o tacere apasatoare, nu o tacere lumeasca, ci o meditatie ce trebuie sa reverbereze intr-un saptiu atat definit cat si nelimitat…in lantru, in suflet.

Muzica…
Muzica este o forma de evadare…
Unii citest o carte, altii se plimba, altii iau droguri, manaca dulciuri…

Dar muzica nu este doar o evadare sonora…sau ritmica…ea mai este si una sufleteasca,
A miscarii, a imaginatiei…..ea este o meditatie launtrica.

My Birthday list of possible gifts...(or at least what I would hope to get)

2008-03-31T13:41:00.000-07:00

Well let me introduce myself,

the radiant, deviant, absolutely gorgeously looking guy above is none other than me...

Yeah...right, but then, I might be a bit over'confindent with my looks, but only a bit...

Now about the thing that I was meaning to talk about....

well IT"S MY B"DAY (birthday 4 those who don't know)

It's monday on the 7th of APRIL.....

And as I usually either get the most stupid and useless gifts ever, and of course because of my unbaring and annoing courtesy I can't say anything, at most nod in acceptance and receive the gift, or better yet, I don't get them at all and then I can just sob about my pittyful giftless day... (but with a bit of luck that won't be the case...I hope at least!!!).

So, without further delay...here's the list:

*candles (as many as possible, all shapes all sizes)

*fairy books

*books... (ibooks or digital are more than wellcome)

*really crazy underwear, boxers (the crazier the colour, shape, type, pattern the better...by the way I'm an "S" or at most an "M" (underwear)

*a laptop bag or case

*small laptop mouse

*Music - Gabriel Fauré's Requiem, Opera in general

*Any old jewellery or antiques of any sort... (I love antiquities)

*flowers (and the POT is mendatory (in ghiveci adica)

*Tea (of any sorts....)

*Tea related things (mugs, tea pots, tea filters)

*Aromatical and/or esential oils (any sorts...surprize me)

*Fountain pen

*Cool agendas/diary

*a pair of red Converse

*Chocolate (black...the darker the better...hi hi hi)

*Movies (DVDs... CDs...anything that is good and you think that I would consider watching...

seen any good porn lately?)

*Poetry

*B'day Cards

*Jazz scores

*ties (cravate)...plane black (I'm a bit short on those) or any other cool colour or pattern

*hmmm..... any arty stuff

*pay for a tatoo and/or a cool piercing... or just buy me the piercing and I'll make my own hole

*any cool T'shirts (and they have to be S, or XS.... and meybe green...)

*sex toys (this is here just for fun, but hey... all gifts are more than wellcome, shock me if U can)

*any crazy stuff that you can think off..... it just has to be cool

Ultimately I really don't care what U bring just as long as you actually try to put some effort into the whole thing....

2008-03-31T13:25:00.000-07:00

Why do we build great walls?

Is it to keep people out,

is it to keep us in, is it to protect us from ourself,

or others from ourself...

Experiment #1

2008-03-31T13:15:00.001-07:00

Dragii mei prieteni... Cum eu şi sper cã mulţi din voi sunteţi nişte militanţi ai culturii şi a cultivãrii frumosului, vreau sã va ofer şansa de a cultiva frumosul şi cultura prin un experiment... In acest articol veţi gãsi un santuar al libertaţii, şi prin asta vreau sã negaţi tot ce ţine de frumos, de cultura, de civilizaţie, de literaturã, de artã şi aşa mai departe... Vreau cu ajutorul vostru sã învaţãm din contraste... acestea fiind spuse...pe scurt În acest sapţiu vreau sã scrieţi tot ce vã vine "rãu" in minte...agramatisme, cele mai urâte şi mai triviale înjuraturi pe care le-aţi auzit vreodata sau care aţi vrut vreodatã sã le adresaţi cuiva (evident totul sub o aurã de “ANONIMAT”), perle, reproşuri, blesteme, expresii de “baltã”...(aţi prins ideea).

Ideea de baza a experimentului este sã vedem panã unde se poate întinde prostia, arta urâtului si a degradarii şi in felul acesta, (dat fiind natura comentarilor, pe care vã încurajez sa le faceţi fãrã sã fiţi logaţi, astfel ca anonimatul sa se conserve) sã vã înlãture orice inhibiţie sau timiditate şi sã va dea prilejul de a vã descarca de cuvintele de o candoare murdarã pe care mulţi din voi le-aţi inmagazinat de-alungul anilor. Deci, in concluzie, deoarece, cum urmeazã....hav fun:

Iubire, dezamagire si moarte

2008-02-25T12:51:00.000-08:00

Ţi se pare ca aripile vântului te duc vertiginos nu se ştie încotro. Nu mai eşti o fãpturã neîndemãnaticã, neputincioasã, care se ţârãşte anevoie; Nu, tu eşti copilul Naturii!

...natura seamãnã cu o fatã frumoasã, cuprinsã de un vag fior al feminitaţii ce se deşteaptã în ea.

Inima ţi se zbate la unison cu inima ei.
Ea te cuprinde şi te strânge la pieptul ei.
Te contopeşti cu ea.
Corpul iţi devine uşor ca puful.
Asculţi cântecul unor voci tãinuite.

Pãmântul ţi se pare îndepãrtat şi mic, iar norii, care plutesc deasupra, îţi sunt apropiaţi ca nişte fraţi, şi întinzi braţele spre ei. Iar apusul purpuriu revarsã asupra infinitului o luminã misterioasã, poleind cu aur vârfurile copacilor şi trasformând îngrãmãdirile de nori într-o enormã cununã strãlucitoare.

Era clipa plinã de profundã fascinaţie, de speranţã pãtimaşã şi aşteptare. Mica mea lume se contura distinct pe fundalul cerului in flãcari, amurgul se înteţea în jurul meu, înfãşurând universul în umbre crepusculare, iar din urmã se furişa de acum noaptea.

Deasupra luminii cufundate in negurã se întind aripile negre ale noţii, iar în norii posomorâţi se topesc încet amintirile de aur despre soarele dispãrut....se aude ecoul paşilor cuiva, care ba se apropie, ba se sting în depãrtare, iar apoi se aşterne o linişte de mormânt, în care auzi numai batãile propiei inimi şi te cufunzi in somn.

Din pãdurile învãluite de o ceaţa crepuscularã privesc cum frustele petale de luminã se retrag iar oastea fantomaticã a Nopţii- umbrele întunecoase-înainteazã pe tãcute de pe malurile lumii, se mişcã cu paşi invizibili prin rogozul de pe maluri, se strecoarã printre stufarişuri şi se înalţã pe tronul de bezna, în pâlpâirea puternicã a stelelor palide ale palatului sãu fantomatic, de unde apoi împrãştie firea.

E linişte...o linişte asurzitoare...

O ultima razã mai rãtãceşte la malul marii de oglinzi...E linişte din nou.
iar când i-a venit ceasul morţii, în întunericul acela, dinspre mare se apropie o umbrã-n chip de fatã mândrã, care o ia în mânã şi o duce pe cãrãri necunoscute, şi iatã ca întunericul a fost împraştiat de o luminã radioasã, înaintea cãreia lumina zilei era ca un opaiţ faţã de soare. Şi-n aceastã iradiere divinã, razei istovite de putere i se aratã o nalucã; iar naluca era atât de frumoasã de parca ar fi vrajit-o, şi bucuria ei era atât de adâncã, precum e marea, cãreia nu i-a mãsurat înca nimeni adâcimea.

Dar nãluca a disparut, şi odata cu ea si lumina....este atât de

frig...acum...singurã...

Din spate, o atingere de foc îi cuprinde tâmplele în palme, aşa cum ţii sã nu se verse un potir, şi-şi puse gura peste gura ei, ca sã inspire ţipãtul ce-l expirã pentr-un ultim strop de viaţã, şi asemenea unui vis, raza cade într-un somn ca-ntr-un fund de ocean farã ieşire şi farã plângere...

Cerşetorul de iubiri

2008-02-25T12:48:00.000-08:00

Priveam spre cerul parfumat cu lacrimi
Priveam spre veşnicul finit,
Cu-o singurã simţire încã,
Cu-un unic si maiestru dor,
Ca cerşetorul de amor.

Cerşeam prin carţi de frunze moarte
Citind himericul descânt,
Sunând o ludicã candoare
Cu echivoc de voluptate.
Ca cerşetorul de iubiri.

Tãcerea îşi întinse aripi,
de flutur lungi si delicate
În timp ce eu cerşeam la lunã
Iubirea, suferinţã dureros de dulce
Sufletul sa mi-l stãpungã.

Sunt cerşetorul de iubiri,
Cãtând amoru-n infinit,
Furând priviri muiate-n vis
si sentimente de cristal
Ca sã îmi potolesc, insaţiabil suflet ce-am.

Through my eyes....

2008-02-25T12:17:00.000-08:00

The eyes are but the glass, like windows to ones soul.

Eyelids are the shutters behind which torment dwells .

The sobs we utter, are but are shrieks of pain.

The tears are but the realization that aid and hate of love will never come.

DECALOGUL TACERII

2008-02-20T01:32:00.000-08:00

1. Taci, cand nu ai de spus ceva valoros.

2. Taci, cand ai vorbit destul.

3. Taci pana cand iti vine randul sa vorbesti.

4. Taci, atunci cand esti provocat.

5. Taci, cand esti nervos sau criticat.

6. Taci, cand esti in biserica pentru ca D-zeu sa-ti poata vorbi.

7.Taci, cand pleci de la biserica pentru ca Duhul Sfant sa-ti poata imprima in mintea ta lucrurile pe care le-ai auzit.

8. Taci, cand esti ispitit sa critici.

9.Taci, cand esti ispitit sa vorbesti.

10. Taci cat ai timp sa gandesti inainte de a vorbi.

SI TACEREA SA-TI FIE RUGACIUNE

Let's talk about the concept of fun....

2008-02-20T01:28:00.000-08:00

Now please, everyone....what could be more funny than a whole lot of people gathered in one place at the same time.....
Oooooo, is that all you say?
Well how about in the middle of the central park of the capital?
hmmmmm, yeah, well...
What still not convinced?
Now, what if I told you that everyone is invited...black, white, Chineze, Scotish, English, German, Polish, French, American, Irish, Rusian....o and let's not forget Romanian....
and let's add some business men and woman in their ceremonial business suits, pizza guys, people in pyjamas, photographers, a shrivel of critics, a wince of dentists, a gloat of examiners, a circumspection of lovers, an admonition of techers, a dash of doctors, a sprincle of directors...and of course we have to have a blush of boys and a giggle of girls, in one word children...
I mean what sort of fun would it be without children.....
Well you know.....
What?!! O come on, You still don't think this is fun.....
Ok, that’s it!!!
What if all these people were to have a secret...that would be found out at precisely 12 noon?
And do you know that secret would be?!!

PILLOW
FIGHT!!!

Blestem ce esti iubire sfântã

2008-02-19T16:22:00.000-08:00

Acum, în taina dimineţii
Aştept, o lacrimã de rouã
Sã îmi atinga creştetul, sã mi alinte faţa...
şi-apoi ....
Sã ma trezesc din nou pe astrul inverzit si rece...
La realitatea de mea de plumb,
Inconjurat de mii şi mii de corpuri negre farã feţe...
şi-apoi....
Te vãd, mirosindu-ţi parfumul de cuvinte dulci
Vibrând a sufletu-ţi candoare.

Cu pãrul lung muiat în aur
Slipind a sori de alta datã.
Cu ochii sorbiţi din cerul sacru, umpluţi cu apa mãrilor
Ca sã se oglindeascã-n ei finitul infinitului.
Cu buzele ca trandafirul sângerând a lui pasiune
şi cu o faţã de angelic ce cutremurã-a mea lume.

Ah, bestem ce eşti iubire sfântã, cu himericul tau cânt,
Damnandu-mã la dragoste si suferinţa pur de albã.

Aştept acum celestra luna sã mã învãluie, în a ei râuri de luninã
Sã-i mai înalţ o rugaciune,
un ultim gând transfigurat,
un ultim solo de de artist....
ca numai dupã un moment
sã ma scufund in translucida ei iubire, imbrãţişând sfântul pãcat.

La cules ingeri

2008-02-19T16:15:00.000-08:00

...Din cand in cand
Un pocnet infundat
Ca la caderea unui inger
Unui fruct in iarba.
Cum trece timpul!
S-au copt si au inceput sa cada
Ingerii:
S-a facut toamna si-n cer...
Ana Blandiana

Seismul amurgului a ciobit bibelourile lumii: Ziua & Nopatea.

2008-02-16T04:38:00.000-08:00

Sufletul îmi cade în adânc, iar
Ochii mi se deschid umezi, şi sunt împăcat
ca fântânile din imperiul lutului.
O îmbrãţişare firbinte, ca razele ce pornesc din mâna Lui, mã cuprinde de jur împrejur. Nimic nu vrea sã fie altfel decat este.
Pentr-un moment sau doua un fior de dor ma cuprinde,
tânjesc...
aşa cum luna tanjeste dupa soare,
poate pentru cã a pierit sub stânci,
sau poate cã s-a cufundat în pământ.
apoi... Am scuptat dragostrea in ceaţa diminetii...
dar a netezit-o Strălucirea Lui, ce-mi incalzeşte rugaciunile
emoţiile...
suferinţele.
Se naşte lumina. Mai întâi, ca o faţã palidã a unei flori transparente de uitare,
Apoi, ca un RoGvAiV de sentimente ce îneacã orice suflet, de dragoste,
de dor, de pace.
Dar eu mi-am amcorat inima în frãmântarea cercurilor unei bãlţi, sã ma odihnesc...
Te-am cautat în amintiri pânã s-a despicat vãzduhul şi mi-am spus sã aştept.
…………acum aştept…………...
Totul devine atât de dulce vederii mele,
Incât trebuie sã mã şterg cu un petec de nor,
sã nu m-amãgesc...
Dar norul s-a transformat intr-o baie de ciocolatã,
şi lacrime în stropi mari au început sã inunde profunzimea ocnei cerului
ce se dăruieşte lumilor de jos.
Acum “faţa” pãleşte privirii mele, iar taina nopţii absoarbe a zilei clipã.
Stelele zâmbiotoare coboarã lin, spre mine...
Şi lacrimele înceteazã sã mai stinga pasiunile obrazului infierbantat a lumii de lut.
Soarele se transfigureazã-n luna...
Toul revine înapoi la “nimicul”de acum un moment.
Dar Dumnezeu,
Dumnezeu rămîne în noi, şi dragostea Lui a ajuns desăvîrşită în noi.
Nimeni n-a văzut vre-odatã faţa lui Dumnezeu,
dar dacã închizi ochii şi te laşi “îmbraţişat” o poţi simţii odata cu naşterea primei raze de speranţã.

Numai o clipã

2008-02-15T13:17:00.000-08:00

Acum, imi odihnesc o geanã, aşa pt-un moment, sau douã,
In racoroasa camerã de gânduri aburitã
Si mã cufund în vis, aşa pt-un moment.

Visam ca te-aspeptam prin parc
Vãzând cum baleteazã ici si colo, singurataţi.
Uite! Incã una, plimbandu-şi tãcerea asurzitoare.

Acorduri, arpegii şi armonii, lacul mândru le remarcã
Când maiestra lunã dragã, narcisistã fiind de veci
Se-oglindeşte iatã iarã în al nopţii misticism.

Ah! Iatãte! Fosila mea de douazeci de ani.
Frumoasa floare de cretacic cu par balai vopsit cu nori
Si cu faţa decorata’n praf de roze si amor.

Cu zãmbet ala Mona Lisa,
Cu ochi ca negura uitãrii,
Cu suflet alb ca de abis, in care zilnic eu plonjez pierdut pt-un etern moment.

În tine zilnic eu mã pierd,
Si tot in tine zilnic mã gãsesc
Aşteptand cu nerãbdare, astazi iarã sã mã pierd, în vis şi dorul de abis.

Noaptea-Dimineaţa (V. Alecsandri)

2008-02-15T13:15:00.000-08:00

Noartea-I dulce’n priãmvarã, liniştitã, rãcoroasã
Ca’ntr’un suflet cu durere o gandire mângâioasã.
Ici, colo, cerul dispare sub mari insule de nori,
Scuturând din a lui poale si repezi meteori.

Zori de ziuã se revarsã peste vesela naturã
Prevestind un soare dulce cu luminã şi caldurã.
În curând şi el apare pe-orizontul aurit,
Sorbind roua dimineţii de pe câmpul înverzit.

Ma prafuise timpul

2008-02-15T13:09:00.000-08:00

Ma prafuise timpul dormind peste clavir

Si nopti de-arandu-astept un singuratec cant

Cu-o harmonie pura, vibrand parfum de mov

Triland si arpegiand mireasma viselor.

Aud clavirele cantand din negura feerica

Cu steaua care s-a desprins din universul artei

Ce piere-acum in haosul lumii, reci, bleo si desarte.

O inima poate s-a stins spre vesnicul repaos

Dar muzica vibreaza inca spre marginea neantului

Ca Pheonixul renaste, iara o harmonie,

Pe sacra bolta-a lumii s-aduca armonie.

Through my eyes

2008-02-15T13:08:00.000-08:00

The eyes are but the glass, like windows to ones soul.
Eyelids are the shutters behind which torment dwells .
The sobs we utter, are but are shrieks of pain.
The tears are but the realization that aid and hate of love will never come.