Green*

Focus
Is one thing I lack
Ever since I colored the sun green

The grass turned yellow
The caves went all red

You stepped on the back of my neck
And made your way
Right into my head

Since then you are stuck
Since then I am stuck
In my own thoughts and fantasies

Even when you disappear
The sun remains green

See painting with a mind is irrevocable

A vision of the kitchen floor.

Let me run my fingers on your back
And carve my nails into your skin
Let me caress you, hold your breath
The trip is long
No rush, no rush
Let me tiptoe on the kitchen floor
Where you lie naked and drained
Even desire has left you
Let alone fame
Let me carve my nails deeper
Till drops of your blood appear
On pink clots formed on your skin
Your drops of blood taste like fresh apples
Maturing under sunlit summer trees
Your drops of blood
Running on the edge of your lips
So inviting, so inviting
Let me caress you, hold your breath
The trip is long
Too long
Too long

Sandstorm from within*

It is snowing sand today
Small golden flickers
Sparkling up with every sunray
That doesn’t reach the ground

Sand flickers absorb sunrays
Creating a new substance
That has an existence of its own

They are a contradiction
To everything natural
To everything real

It is snowing sand today
And the emotions in my head
Sparkling up with every sunray
That doesn’t reach my soul

Sand flickers absorb sunrays
Leaving my soul obscure and hollow
With an existence of its own

I am a contradiction
To everything real
To everything natural

It is snowing sand today

And I am no longer there.

(tran)scent*

I sent you a morning kiss

And evening has come
Without a trace of you
Or few pale traces …
Remaining in my mind
From a time spent high
On the scent of dawn
And that of your skin

I inhaled

And the scent was carved inside me
And the scent transformed
Into colorful threads
That keep lingering inside my mind
Way after our bodies split
The scent transcended
From thin air, it materialized
And became part of me

Inside, I can still feel you

On a present past.

There is a tiny noise in my head
It is coming from a long way

It is dead.

It is a collection of recollections
Bits and pieces of a past
Assembled in one spot in my mind

Bits and pieces of a present past
That have not spend enough time in my brain
To allow for their fermentation
And fragmentation into memories

Shall they become memories,
I would be able to visualize them
Draw pictures of an altered past
That puts on a new dress, in my head

Shall they become memories,
They would become part of me
They would experience the present
And get nostalgic and make me cry

But they are not memories

They are just a noise

A tiny noise

Tomorrow, it will go away

On feelings...unwanted.

Nothing good will come out of me

Until I am able to throw out
All the feelings I have inside

I want to see them coming out of my mouth
A rainbow of colors
I want to see them splashing on the floor under me
I want to be able to step on them and walk away

I want them to evaporate under the desert’s hot sun
I want them to sink into the sponge-like sand below

I just want them to disappear
With no evidence whatsoever that they even existed

Loneliness does all sorts of things to the brain
Wicked images are normalized
Sick thoughts become only natural

Anything to fill in the hole inside
Just anything could do
Even the sight of a stranger’s smile
Warming up … Seconds before it dies

Loneliness does all sorts of things to the brain

Dismantled reflections_on Mauritania*

On this land

Time has no value
Everything moves slowly
Even the grains of sand
Transported by the wind
From one dune to another

On this land
Dreams are weird
And they get weirder by the day
Dreams of mattresses, empty rooms
And fictitious characters
Coming to life, slowly

On this land
Misery creeps out slowly
To embrace you with its dark shadow
You cannot avoid the vibes of misery
But you can look at it from behind a lens
Everything looks beautiful behind a lens.

Life happens.

One night you are here
In the middle of it all
The buzz
The night

The night life

The light
The crowds
Adrenaline

Rush

Ecstasy

The excessive flow
Of feelings
Rushing
Pushing down your throat

One night you are here
In life
In the midst of it

The crowds suffocate you
Life suffocates you
With its excesses and magnitude

And
Then
Just
Stillness

And you wonder
Whether it is the ability to breathe
That dictates
A life

A matter of perspective

Bangkok skies, Dec 2011

Fixation on memory making*

As we obsess about making memories
We forget about living the moment

We see significantly important instants of our lives
Through lenses of smart phones and photo cams

We watch life passing by

We want to eternalize fragments of our mortal lives
We want to show them off, as a proof of their existence
As a proof of our existence

As we obsess about making memories
Our present becomes past

Moment after moment, years pass by
As we reflect back and remember
There is a sadness that grows inside
A sadness, not caused by a nostalgia to time that flew by
But to a time spent un-lived

Bangkok sky, December 2011