Aug 3, 2017


This guitar is a vessel that makes me
Sail the seas of my dreams wide awake
You turned my world to a monsoon storm
Ravishing my heart for a higher purpose
You call me home and I turn a deaf ear
I wanna curl here and far, hide and seek
You make me sick to my stomach
I ache and shiver but tears don't fall
As I strive to unfurl the mysteries at play
I feel like running away in the moist woods
And softly lay looking at the moon and stars


Jul 30, 2017

Belated Babe

My gut feels as if you're butterfly
I know you are fleeting splendor
And to my heart you're bull's eye
I can see your pain and your anger
As if your wrinkles erased your smile
No one has to endure alone ever
Hug and fight wiser than a juvenile
If my highs went faster I'll get closer
Not until I can hold your stares with glee
If your thighs got tighter, we'll swear stronger
Til next summer buzz cute and work like a bee


Jul 13, 2017

Sorrow's exile

Your eyes are my ice bucket challenge
Am I allowed to drown in for a change?
Effortlessly you stretched your hand
Promised me your dreams with a smile
Radiated wise energy, sorrow's exile
From tonight on shines a mystic wand
Where do we meet? a constellation
Bringing consciousness where lazy minds sleep
Pouring kindness on sore hearts that weep
Tirelessly lighting the fire is your mission


Jul 10, 2017

the old master

There's something broken in you
I can feel it on your uneven face
There's something broken in you
That sorrow I want to embrace
I'd like to know why and heal
I won't rip off your mask yet
Let it slide at my feet, unreal
There's something broken in you
You can not lie to me, reveal


Searching for peace on a piano touch, and sliding into introspective mood under the full moon.
Life is both awesome and troublesome.

I crave people who know what they do and do what they know. Knowledge is an antidote to conditioning. It may mean a full stop to dreams until we recreate them around the last dead end.

Jan 31, 2017


Can you feel both side of your brain at the same time?
Consciously focusing on abstract wording on one hand
And innerly visualizing colorful emotions on another
Subliminal consciousness for your abstraction crave

The exhilaration of traveling was turned into mourning
It is a mix of pain and sadness at seeing land dying
And peaceful satisfaction of knowing true as always
It lingers too long on the soul that quiet crying
Speaking like millennial trees I learned the old ways

Trust no one but your gut if you forget then smell
Like the cat who doesn't know Coriolis and gravity
Like a chameleon who doesn't know lights spectrum 
We don't need fools nor gurus to feed and heal

Oct 1, 2016


We appear close when we touch, yet we are a few million years apart.

Your tunes keep me awake until I finally can tell these visions of awe. The deepest I bury my dreams, the most violently they explode back into my veins.
I am still hanging in that tree, looking at the branches and memorizing all the leaves. Woods are not a cathedral they stand tall whatever the sismic activity, and no one needs to believe, a forest grows effortless, for free.
I know what comes first and what comes next. I have seen all those places and I remember them. I do not need a picture because it is forever in my head. I put my ass on the ground and stuck my fingers in the dirt, I saw the stars and felt the wind, it will clean the air tonight. I laid still staring at a tarantula, hoping I could freeze my blood, but she went. Like my friends, gone with the night. Up is my disco night, flashing billion years of matter birth.

Do you feel the flow? your blood rush, your breath, the wind swirl, the waves break, bird fly, mosquito dance, so much flow, just let go. The most intimate spasms shake slower than my running thoughts. You woke my words and I have begun to feel human for a few hours. If I could hear pictures and feel colorful emotions I would keep quiet, as usual. But you are nothing but usual, rare like gold.
Some drink, pill or smoke their mood to deadly stillness, I live the passionate highs that kiss me inside out, and acid torments that blaze my illusions like an arctic storm. Why buy what's already inside me?

I wish I could still cry, now I am too empty, there is no more baggage to unload. I don't want anything anymore, no wealth, no fame, not even you. Since I close my eyes with burning veins, I stopped caring. twinkling moons and soothing plants are my home, my safe, my care. All I can is dance and sing, and swim. I belong to the eldest beings, and I feel them like nothing else. I am a few million years apart, good night, sleep tight.


Nov 14, 2014

O boy!

When you pushed that door opened, my heart skipped a beat
You waved at me while I had already rushed my glaze down
O boy do I know you? the cutest fashionable guy in town
I can't stand your stares, you're so naively hot, I try to stay away
But you take a step toward anytime I move back, I feel so shy
You sit so close I could feel you breath, I want to hide
You try hard to read into my stares, but I'm closed in, awkward
So you  hum and ham: is this just my friend? or boyfriend?
O boy, I wish you were, but I'm not so free, anyway happy
Say my name again and promise we'll meet again, so warm
You wrapped my heart and stole a last stare, see you boy


Sep 7, 2014

Full moon creativity

Bright full moon gifts night owls like me:
Moonlit woods whispered verses to me.
My eyes ceaselessly glued to the firmament,
Anchoring my reality in the present moment.

Seasonal melody

Summer is blue
Cerulean midnight
Azure noon vault
Aquamarine flow
These hues echo
Trance and techno

Winter is dark
Charcoal shadows
Crystal footprints
Inky welkin
Black euphony
Rocks metal tune


Aug 29, 2014

I miss myself

I am a refugee. I want to go home but it does not exist anymore. I miss it so dearly, I can not rest, my eyes are dried from so any tears I cried.
I am both a broken soul and a stranded stranger so we should not expect kindness and understanding from each other. No matter how kind it was to welcome me, it can not compare to the coziest loveliest home I had ever had. It is a rough time in a new world, a world I neither chose nor want.
I had to leave not only dreams, but friends and habits. Anything that anchored me to reality has been wiped out. Do not ask for so many smiles, or you will get anger at your lack of compassion.
I have taken on so many foreign clothes and forgotten so many of my ways that I can not recognize myself any more. I have become my blurred and shapeless shadow on a windy day.


May 2, 2014

smartphones and glassboxes

 I really like how these 2 people are in a tiny glass box. Instead of focusing on the smartphone, let's think deeper into the roots of WHY people need smartphone to 'feel' busy, rather than bored, or connected rather than disconnected.
1. Obviously as more and more people live in big cities rather than small communities in the countryside, they end up living in tiny boxes, called "flats/apartment/student room", they also have to put up with working in tiny boxes: cubicles, little desk in high glass boxes (skyscrapers?), they commute from their home box to their job box, in little boxes named cars, or metro/bus. Even babies are put in boxes: strollers
What can people DO in tiny boxes? they can neither walk, nor run, nor dance, maybe they can go the the big box (mall) and shop. Some people go to an exercise box (the gym) but most people find it too dull, and get bored. Boredom is sourced in the LACK of sensual stimulation of our dull box environment. And to reclaim sensual stimulation, movies, pictures and music is available 24/7 on our smartphones.
2. Freedom, Most fun exercise takes space: football/rugby, swimming, tennis, biking, golfing, etc can neither be done in tiny boxes, nor in big overcrowded ones. People need some space to move, unrestrained, for the same reason a free range chicken is superior to a caged one, people who roam free tend to feel better than boxed ones.
So people feel overcrowded, at least subconsciously, and to regain their personal freedom space, they turn to Internet, social networks, a virtually infinite place where they have all room to be themselves, rather than a number in a box.
3. Even though people may share big overcrowded space like a train wagon at rush hour, there is no feeling of personal relationship because these are fleeting moments and no one can see exactly the same people everyday in one's wagon, bar exceptions (but notice how we tend to get to know each other in this case)
Or those big places, like an open office are an apartment building are divided in small boxes (cubicle, flats), so that people don't interact and don't have to be social, or are discouraged to socialize (for productivity sake). Then again Internet and 'social' networks provide the solution by reconnecting disconnected urban dwellers with each other. It is also interesting to see more and more former city dwellers (like me), who keep connection to urban life (intellectuals, arts, people) through Internet, while moving to the countryside which is geographically disconnected from universities, governments and museums.

Apr 18, 2014


You can't see what I see, you can't feel what I feel but between those lines, you may grasp who we were, once upon a time, before life left us. We are childless souls bound to dirt particles. We are ghost upon Earth, weird wandering demons salvaging wilderness to ornate dangling flesh pieces. Our brightest star, Sun is setting the rhythm of our mental life, up and down with our consciousness.

If I lie to you as much as I lie to myself, you may believe I was real, but I was never oneself. I had been, I was and will always be a heteroclite bundle of feelings fading away and twisted within my memory realm. Those words are anamorphosed by the limited semantic range of my language knowledge and your own, necessarily different understanding.

Anything we feel doesn't absolutely exist, we merely compare now to somewhere before and evaluate how it values against. Sometimes we lack words for it and we forget. Somewhere else we are so profoundly moved we store all our now&here perceptions forever. However it only exists until anyone forgets about it, whether my senile brain or how to interpret those sounds and, or shapes, that we call language.


Mar 25, 2014


"many autistic authors turn to poetry, a form that frees them from constraints of syntax and story and permits them to focus on the perceptual qualities of the images represented and the phonological structure applied. In this domain of expression, autistic differences can manifest not as abnormal deficits but as abnormal skills". Belmonte (2008)

Dec 18, 2013

Amber mood

Cultural masks protect us from lack of self confidence.
You hang piles of scantily dressed pouting pictures 
Spinning recurring social webs like a senile spider
There is no download key for happiness software

Sadness overflow, cut through wounds, a lurch
Amber mood, like sap pearling down a birch
Peeling off bark, running along the beech alley
Rub your skin and skip down the beach way

Like a caterpillar in a dark slumber I wait for summer
When sunlight fade your smile is a shining wonder
Ignite my mind, radiant energy, bitter harmony
Let the sky fall, Moon tears slip on my nose
You put a cross through my lips, silent prose


Dec 3, 2013

some shades of grey

You painted my world in shades of black and white
I feel like a stranded wooden trunk in a storm
Dark grey spots tearing the sky down to sea foam
Death is an old lithography drawn from carbon ashes
Memories of beautiful lives that clung to my heart
I hear your high laughs and see your sparkling blue eyes
But your small soft hand slips away behind a thin skin
I strive to break free but I am trapped in an elastic bubble
On the wrong side of the multiverse where it is silent


Oct 7, 2013

Afraid to be happy?

I don’t believe in souls or gods, I studied hard and soft sciences and prefer rational, logical explanations. So I genuinely thought I was immune to magical thinking, only to discover that I still hold irrational beliefs.

My superstition number one is: whenever I touch happiness, it slips from me as I reach to grasp it. Therefore I have been suffering stupidly from avoiding to engage in satisfying pursues that are dear to my well-being. As if doing what I love could make my newly acquired happiness crumble.

That’s a terrible mistake for three reasons: friends are not going to run away because I do what I want. And if they did they wouldn't be true friends, so I shouldn't be afraid of fully embracing my weirdness.
Secondly forgetting that I need loneliness, physical challenges and a rather strict (austere? ascetic?) routine can only lead me to feeling dissatisfied, unhealthy and unable to tend those precious relationships.  
Thirdly if I focus too much on fitting in people’s agendas I forget that my dreams are bigger, harder to achieve but so much more worth pursuing than some praise or petty money. Finally there is limited reservoir of happy moments that would run out if I'm enjoying life too much, so only misery would await in the future. This is a scarcity mindset much ingrained from a mining metaphors: finite resources can get depleted. However if you live in the forest, you quickly realize that each spring leaves grow back and each summer fruit are ripe, unless you cut the trees...

The take home message for anyone reading my confessions:

1. listen to yourself in order to know what you like

2. what feels right must be done over and over again

3. dream big in bright colors and paint your reality points by points

4. don’t give up until your masterpiece is achieved

5. walk in the forest as often as possible, move in if you can!


Sep 30, 2013

Tales of sunset

Goodbye September 

My neurons bathes happily in a unique hormonal mix I recreated by listening to last year autumn playlist and dancing under the setting sunrays. Every move stimulate different muscle and joints which boosts some blood rush to my glands and sends a gleeful shot of soothing chemicals to mind. While I harmoniously stretch my whole body in sync with psychedelic trance music, every tension is released like burst bubbles that tickle my heart. Warm citrus colored sunrays melt my heart as sparkles of emerald, sapphire and amber brighten up our eyes. Hair swings like twigs and shines like gold and bronze. Sunset stretches over and over again like a multiple orgasm coming in waves and surprisingly returning while fading away until birches finally swallow the latest gasp of light.

I love anything and anyone that comes across my wandering thoughts relentlessly, blissful sensation. Just as sun blinds if gazed at too directly, love could set fire to my mind. Yet I take steps and feel each moment bringing me closer to beauty and peace, I leave fear and embrace love fully and I fall safely into fluffy angels wings like the gentle pink clouds. After a frantic summer marked by exhilarated senses, shared feasts and nightless dreams, autumn leaves us hollow. Hopefully vacuum is space for love fed by many summer discoveries.

I love hard and strong and if I fall and break, when I am healed the scar will remind me that pain vanishes soon but confidence lasts a lifetime. I don’t hold back and let each sun drop feed more energy, and I sink deeper into universal love. I carefully tie memories to the nightingales, blackberry bushes and woodshed in order to cherish them in the midst of the long winter. I weave colors, smells and feelings so that I cling on them when I am desperately cold and hopelessly lost in the black night. Thousand morning frostbites shape the northern child into a passionate strong heart.


Sep 24, 2013


I would like to show how to read news both critically and positively. 
1. Critically because even a long article from a serious source is usually only one side of a story. So reading comments from various people is enlightening as they point various flaws, add missing information and correct baseless assumptions.
2. Positively because it is easy to feel helpless while submerged by catastrophes, injustices and abuse that are so widespread in the human world. It is also easier to judge wrongdoers and point blaming fingers rather than actively searching for a solution. Implementing baby steps to support the vision of the world you want to see is what matters.

According to this article, lack of play is turning children into low-empathy narcissists with stunted creativity.
The author links the decrease of children freedom to the observed increase in mental disorders like depression and suicides in the second half of 20th century. The biggest lesson I want to remember is that actively teaching something to children is not desirable. Rather children should be encouraged to learn by themselves, mostly through play. Children need mentors rather than teachers, and learn from example rather than punishment and fear.

The next link is both very upsetting and puzzling. My feelings switched from horror to anger when reading the physical and psychological torture that some prisoners endure right now in Russia.
A glimpse into the comments put back the emotions into the broader picture of human rights’ violations which aren’t really limited to Russia. Unfortunately news about USA jails depicted as sweat shops and recent stories of whistle blowers being incarcerated for life have not really left any hope that the ”West” is actually fighting for freedom. 
Hence blaming Russia and asking or a boycott of business relations or the Olympic Games (as was suggested due to serious attack against homosexual people) jump to mind, but is this really efficient? Aren’t ordinary peaceful citizens unnecessarily deprived by such actions? 
China is the most populated dictator state in the world; it executes many human beings regularly, forbids freedom, pollutes heavily the atmosphere that we all share and breathe from and is well known for widespread animal abuse. Yet the computer I’m writing with now is probably mostly made in China, just as so many of our everyday objects.

I can easily refuse to buy a TV made in China to watch the Russian Olympic Games sponsored by sport brands that have their clothes & shoes made in Bangladeshi factories. Instead I’ll walk the forest and pick wild food or play with friends.


Aug 30, 2013

Flowing dream

Listening 20 times to same song in a trance like state and singing to release emotions,

Thoughts’ turmoil and feelings troubling my mind,

Sometimes all I need is a muse, but this feels like an aborted heartbreak, a liquid breach in my soul, flowing down the lagoon, clear, and saline like the Baltic Sea water. I can’t stop looking into the light playing over the moving surface, back and forth just like my thoughts, should I or not? These visions of my life look so real and so illusionary at the same time that I can’t stop doubting that truth could ever exist. Even my own image is ebbing and flooding, my unstable self is lost somewhere in translation between what was and what is real.

When almost everyone is gulping happily a vision of the future that has been designed by some external media, I frown in disgust and stop looking. I may keep my eyes open and see, yet my awareness is directed towards my taste. Do I like this or that? Do I prefer these or those? Where do I want to be? Who do I really want to hug? What is it that I really would like to do if I were totally free?
No I don’t really question myself rather I visualise what feels good, nice and pleasurable. I overindulge in my fantasized hedonist inner paradise. The more I daydreamed, the more I could see how it would look like. And from these first images my imagination built scenarios which would get modified with acquired experience and painful mistakes. I don’t question myself but I adjust the parameters of the dream world.