pause

busy days toward madness. hot days toward tiredness. assuming days toward hatred. planned days toward frustration. taking time. sitting. sliding dirty days toward rain. hidden days toward enlightenment. weary days toward history.

allfitsone

it was back then when it was better to be wrong. it was the road to the east. could you tell dawn from dusk? addiction to one thing brings forth the nonexistence of that thing. it’s how you begin to be all you cannot be. and all the pieces are about that. all fit. it is now when i don’t change my mind. it is when i change what i learned to what i teach.

elsewhere

well, we breathe in the cold air of confession. rapid change of molecules in the stability matter and clarity obscured by reason. no one is the story teller since stories are yet to be walked. can we make the path safer? like roads crossing a frozen sea? wait till the end of snow. i’m sure something will be different. flowers will grow beyond our prophecy.

thearmyofthewrong

the charismatic warrior is bleeding. his world is bleeding with him and we know because the tide is loud. but one should be a real spirit to remember what was shed in the clash of what my archers would call egos. this physical expression of what can be lost is worth loosing for. isn’t it beautiful to realize you got something to lose, i asked him. my blood is my ego, he said. and this is all i can see.

this is when i remove myself from war. another one…

enjoythetrip

this is about all that was before me and also after.  beauty is on my mind. it may not be my creation. but i created it.

steponward

truth is not to be given but to be found.

redland

explain me why the stranger says i’m there again amnesic prince of flames in the smell of red in the sweat of the silver pilgrim forever carrying  what is never discovered but ever aimed and precious and there where the road begins.

summerevenings

the place was waiting to tell us from the rest of the world.  and all beyond our conscious was melting. the place where minds are swimming in the consciousness of nothing is forever. it fills me.

thesecretplaza

and we came to a door and the voice sounds familiar as we step inside. marble drops of a hidden tale. footprints of our kind heading for this stupid little miracle. the end of the rainbow. us

theocean

atouchoffear

this is the time when we taste the storm. we taste the desert. we taste tomorrow by smothering next minute. we count seconds by the skin. and when we dive this smarting rapture is when we are about to be glad we chose to taste fear.

lifeline

when you’re nowhere to go you’re my lifeline spilling hours precious like birth cry submission of wrong desires like weight on your back and you’re anything i need your whispering revelation distressed on your knees you sing me the clean breath that feeds. the greatest way to make me smile. and shine.

makingplaces

river of thoughts fluid travel to the dream of forgotten mystery city red by the sun and workers of conscious extracting messages from bellow delivery children and strangers intersection of probabilities crushing the dream polaroids into the lens then the words we love to butterfly and to feed our basking into the places we call our own.

tenyearsbefore

in the sound of the fish feeding mankind future, we met the right people to certify the bridge to the world we assemble. the dog dodges the lessons that kids unawarely love to drink. she remembers the moment before the father’s watch mark the collision of us. and the sun burns its warmth on our minds. and we find ourselves waving at us.

turningpoint

if i were you i would eat more. cars are picky. but not us. we can eat the road to tibet. and to hell. and back. cars don’t eat. they walk the road. yeah ok, the other lorry say. i’m not sure witch way the story goes right. we come back. because we eat. but they walk the road back home. it’s what all lessons are all about. we can never teach. but we are lucky to be the ones who learn.

thegreaterafterthanbefore

it doesn’t matter how late the lazy morning is. people are waiting to tell us their early wrong mood. but we write our map. and this is not for now. this is not for before this reading. but for after.

thecovenant

walk with me to the next moment of our past the numbers we grow will cut the skin of the stone then we’ll armor our chest with the traces we cast into the purpose we need to discover or we need to forget like the birth of the world when we first met. she said.

mycityalive

if the promise is to close to the failure you may lose the link to the weather of your home like city of rainy souls lost the touch of tomorrow was his purpose and this is the footstep of one day of transformation from the debauchery of far from light to the force of out of the blue and pink an all the colors of the flowing rainbow and the promises that comes through to the world. to the being ready for what’s to come.

driftwood

each road we take is a mark on our skin like personal history is a mark on all that ever was feeding the chances to recognize imperfection in each little one of us drawn together towards the perfection of all will ever be the road back we chose when we left.

&again

and i went out with that happy song i wrote about me. all new about all is in tune with me. and the same song of all happy people in tune with all. i am new to all i tell that new song. to me the people can turn happy. to all i am the laughter. again