Fiind Lili

In lumina palidului anotimp
se naste umbra unui final fericit.

Prinsa in somn
Nutresc fragede pasiuni
De cand eram copil,
catre filozofii lumii muribunde.
Urmarind lacrima
Cum taciunii din orbite-aprinde.

Si privesc entuziasta
Nimicul ce din mine isi face cale;
Stralucind asupra lumii
Intr-o splendida candoare.

Caci viata-mi pare un ac
Ce zgarie rabdator vinilul;
Iar timpul asculta indurerat
Adancindu-mi, suspinand, veninul.
Pana si pamantul,
Neschimbat de milenii taioase
Ma va dezbraca de piele
Curantand cerneala de pe oase.

Ce vina poarta ei?
Ca nu se-ncred in piesa noastra.
Cand le vedem briza
sufland de la o ureche la alta.
Ei traiesc pe-o palma de uscat
Unde legile sunt scrise in aur.
Dar si regii lor se tem de noi
Si ne vad ca niste iele
In timp ce noi privim
inlacrimati si muti
dintre miile stele.

Boala Nobililor

Imi schimb pielea,
Sa-ti scot oasele din lanturi.
Si n-as vrea sa ma atingi
caci serpi pazesc acum nervuri.

ma gandeam sa stam neclintiti
sa ascultam muzica sedentarismului.
Sa zacem precum soparle
Sub soarele nisipului.
Sa privim satui
De pe acoperisuri de smoala
Cum ne privesc dragostea altii
Infometati, cu ochii de migdala.

Mi-as fi intins pielea in balti
Pantoful tau, lasand urme dezhidratate.
In timp ce feminismul tau
Si-ar pierde din notorietate.
In gesturi pline de farmec
Ai fi ingerat serenitate,
Si toata lumea ar fi apus
In contopirea buzelor crapate.

Dar tot ce am ramas acum
Masina de scris, blocata-n alte taste,
Cu muzica sedentarismului
Impingandu-ma sa-mi fac bagaje.

Nu vom gusta luminile Parisului
Mediterana nu ne va cunoaste;
Drumul tau te va indrepta spre soare
Al meu se va pierde resemnat in mare...

Sunt bolnav

Nu-mi lipseste nimic
din amorul de cocota,
Caci am imbratisari fierbinti
din pielea unei camasi de forta.
Si resping vehement acuzatii
ca as avea viziuni distorsionate.
Stiind ca lentilele mele,
reflecta cea mai clara realitate.

Si-mi spun soptit,
demonii pictati in chip uman.
Prin pereti, podele si tavan.
Ca de schizofrenia-ar purta un nume
Acela ar fi Marius Cristian.

Dar raman nemiscat si sobru
la cuvintele de lemn.
Ce ard in focurile uitarii
Purtate precum fumul unui slab blestem.

Caci fericirea vine in rafale
Doar odata la un an,c-un tren.
Dar o tot ratez si astept
la umbra mintii;
Calm, precum o mina de teren.

Uitare

Din creieri fumegand
Se desprind ceruri senine
Si gradini patate de lumina
Trec linistitor prin vene.

Si vise pornesc frenetic
Din prajituri imbaiate in stomac.
Cu Martini si Rom ce alinta gatul
Prinse intr-un dans delirant.

Un dulce anestezic
Oferit departe de spitale
Si umbra umila a regretului
E-ntinsa somnoroasa la picioare.

Un ochi de sticla
priveste vanitos un soare
Si toata dragostea din lume
Nu mai poate sa ne doboare.

E ziua carnii,
in bucurii matriarhale.
Iar timpul ar rapi grabit
lui martie ultima suflare.

E anotimpul respiratului
Si al ritmurilor usoare.
Pe care inima incolteste
Chiar si intre muntii de gunoaie.

Diagnostic

In Biblia tristetii
Nu mai e nimic sfant.
Cand bei cerneala
Si te imbeti crunt.
Se strange inima
Imbibata pana la refuz in clor
Iar vertebrele de creta
Cand se frang, nu te mai dor.
Conturata e sila in oglinda
Vazand c-am ramas viermi.
Cand tot ce-am vrut a fost o zi
de a trai ca fluturii.

Bolnavi si prosti
Nu mai putem lega cuvinte
Caci limba-i grea si umflata
Muscata de suflete pereche.
Parca si maseaua de minte
Sta sfidator sa cada.
Preferand lumina soarelui
Aruncata peste casa.

Si ce-i ramane omului
Din care n-a ramas nimic?
Caci moartea nu e pierderea finala
Nicidecum un corp ce doarme-n dric

In progress

Ma simt abandonat de o lume ce mi-a fost promis ca o pot cuceri. Se spune ca diavolul gaseste mereu ceva de lucru pentru mainile ce stau degeaba. Si asa mi s-a dat sabie cand tot ce aveam nevoie era a stiu cum functioneaza natura. Apoi m-au aruncat in oras. Acest urias de nepatruns, maret si impresionant precum Kremlinul dar in acelasi timp inert si plictisitor. In cele din urma au decis ca sunt gata pentru arena si m-au aruncat in mijlocul oamenilor. Unii s-au asezat in suflet si au zacut mult timp paraziti precum florarii in fata unui spital. Acesti demoni expatriati cu globuri oculare pe limba, le simti cuvintele cum observa cu atentie tot in jurul lor, cum te masoara si iti estimeaza o valoare vaga in timp ce se holbeaza fara tinta din spatele unor cavitati goale. Ce creaturi ciudate mai sunt si oamenii. O amestecatura omogena de salbaticie si distins bun gust. Precum maimute care atarna dezorientate de un candelabru de cristal. Privirile lor, cacatul cu care arunca unii in altii....

There's art lurking in each living cell of our concrete paradise. There is wonder and awe within the ribs of people working in offices. In cubicles. Unveiled, in the shadowy silence of the city. Or within roaring walls of crushing sound. The glamor of the damned. The last anthem for the sons of perdition. As we float aimlessly through the ocean of time our spirit dilates and melts into the collective conscience. Emotions, trapped in photographs like sand in an hourglass. We will be forgotten. Our existence will become meaningless. Nature and all living things will move on. The earth will be engorged with our bodies. Our loved ones will wither and our homes be brought down by decay. And then what? What significance will a moment in time have upon this stubborn carousel that refuses to stop for anyone? None. Will music mourn your loss? Will poetry shed a tear of ink? Will the world be moved by your departure? No. You will be a simple leaf carried by the winds of october. Carried softly to the earth it once sprung from. So why  remain idle in this short fraction of time molded by chaos? Death is always one heartbeat away. But what about life?

A dream in III Acts

Of madness...
No grave, no bones. Claws of time tear me apart. Arise! Arise! Reach the sky from the soil where you lie! Unstable...The consciousness is torn apart! It flies on the wings of the wind like weightless ash, and then dissolves into oblivion.

Of terror
Death is but a dance with the spirit on the bones. The intertwining of fates and bodies with the soul. In the depths of madness I have seen something. Death my friend, and sleep are like twins. Shapeless fears born when the mind has no power of the consciousness, merged by the will of Mortis. The Lady of Death brings forth the manifestation of the greatest fear of all living things. A horseman of terror. The decayed wings of his steed silently cleave the air tin the night and a grinning severed head gazes from the depths of his black and empty eye sockets.

Of anguish
Watching the sand in this hourglass flow, I can forget about my pain, about my lost life and about the happiness that will never return. Power over life and death. Each grain of sand, a moment. Each grain of sand a lifetime. It is possible to pour all our pain over at once, but hard times will bring everything back in order.

I have the weirdest dreams

Lately, I've been sick. But it's not quite a sickness that kept me within the confines of my mind. You know, they tell you addiction is not a sickness. And maybe they're right. In a way you consciously decide to remain ill, a decision fully supported by your body. And you certainly need medicine to keep your body moving. yet it's something strangely appealing to it.
For me, Even when it became ordinary and my brain started taking it more as a daily ritual rather than an attempt to cause me pleasure, I still liked to linger to that state of numbness. Absent of joy, I still remained hooked on the illusion. Her illusion.
Having her around was like living in a pharmacy. I had the disease, she had the cure. Months passed by and my mind was corroded by substance. Even my soul itself started to bend and break to her will. It was such peculiar feeling. I've been nothing but the kindest friend to her and I knew that was not enough. I knew that deep within her she wanted to rip my throat out the day I stood silent after she asked for a chance. In a way, her question did that for her.
So there I was, her hand in mine. laying lividly on a couch. Some thoughts gathered timidly on the back of the head. I felt lucky to have her around. I felt glad to have her around. I felt like I loved her. At this point there was no differenciating between her and HER. I loved, though I did not know the object of my affection. My life was only a present stopped in time like an hourglass laying on the side. No future, no past. Everything else  was fogged memory.
She kept me doped all the time, eyes closed in narcotic reverie. Until one day, when by mistake, I broke loose from the hunger. She had to go for two weeks. And I stood there waiting, a day, two, three. On the 4th I went out, I was walking. My eyes were still hazy and the breath of air I took almost hurt. Yes, it hurt my lungs to breathe fresh air again. I felt them heavy, like sponges full of tar. I had nothing to ingest, nothing to burn. I remember buying an ice cream. I took small bites from it and it felt unusual. It felt strange and I couldn't find a reason for it. The next couple of days, all I did was rediscover life. I smelled everything, I touched everything and sometimes I even tasted stuff that people normally don't, like nails or wood. I felt like one of those aliens in movies , that is sent to a foreign planet to collect information. My brain gazed in awe at everything before my feet. I was just like a child born yesterday. In a week, I was born and grew back to my age. When I got my senses back I felt a bit disappointed. I felt like a man who has been lied to all his life that he's sick and now I broke the leather studded ribbons on my hands. In a way, it was my fault for never getting out of bed to see If I'm healthy. So I packed my bags. I only left a note behind "I guess I wasn't sick after all".

Make a wish!

I want my soul to heal
The blisters on its feet
From walking endlessly on memory lane
Through the desert, through the heat.

I want my mind to be reminded
Gently, never to remember.
The panic of suffocating julies
The manic depression of decembers.

I want full moons and empty pockets
WIld dances on vibrant skin
The delightful touch of souls
Burning passion from within.

But I would do with gas and alcohol
For that's all the fuel I need
To take over your world.

The Plague

Love lies in the stomach
As many more have said
And with ease we see men
Bleeding from their abdomen.

The world takes our children
From homes to slaughterhouses.
Gutted of their thirst for knowledge
Infused with lack of courage.

Pigs in expensive clothing
Watch satisfied from the side
As men and women turn into animals
Killing for a meals pride.

Hope crucified in public squares
While the lions of our human law
Bite and claw the dreams of change
As humanity is severed from the flesh.

Now what purpose does this life provide
In the barren wastelands of our times?
With all noble things left aside,
Who can we turn to? Where can we hide?