Fraction of a fraction

Fraction of a fraction
Fraction of a fraction

I stand here still and wonder,

Of a time I took a quill and my hand, stand still,

To make a dot in time,

To make the passage rhyme.

 

And every time I think of you

You are somewhere where no one knew,

You would be and make it true.

 

The loneliness of my knights keeps me away from different sights,

I only wander through the past and find pillars there are no fallen,

And I a bug upon this earth that wanders,

But is not yet swollen.

 

So many things to say,

To convey on white pixel paper.

So many hidden meanings in this play

Of rapid typing and as rapid thinking,

It’s only a fraction of a fraction,

That matters now.

I’m the poet the behemoth of feelings

Who shedding them into this post,

And only time will turn me into a ghost.

 

Every time someone wanders along the riff

In Tenerife, I splendidly surrender to their drift,

Cause I hadn’t left, with no surprise

With charming melody covering my eyes.

 

Now that I know,

That all is lost,

That end is near,

I do not succumb to nonsense fear.

I stroll in quite pace towards the grace of death itself,

I know I was not a Lord, a nobleman or even worthy

To hear out you confess,

But there is one thing I know for sure,

It is the truth of those who yet remain pure.

I know it’s so,

I know it is.

I know it with the go,

I know it with the breeze.

 

The red sea wants to devour my flesh,

But in return, I throw little shallots of a stone,

Into its depth.

Such is the life,

Such is the fraction of a fraction

Of my disguise.

Goodbye!

Now I depart.

Without knowing ‘why’

Or ‘why’ I even had to start.

 

 

Chat with Eve

Chat with Eve
Chat with Eve

Chat with Eve.

When I find myself a girl named Eve,

What would I chat with her about?

I really don’t know…

Maybe Biblical stuff?

Adam and Eve, kind of stuff?

I don’t know.

All I really wish is to squeeze the girl and make her squeak.

But it is considered brutal, and not too humane, not too modern,

Against the law.

 

Chat with Eve.

My true nature is outlaw I guess,

A bastard who want to play checkers, not chess.

I want women for their flesh,

As they want me for the cash…

Absurd, don’t you find?

We are both brutal in that sense of mind.

 

But society keeps talking about love.

What is it really? If not acceptance of wildling in your boyfriend or girlfriend,

Within the limits of Gov.

I know.

You know it too.

We are both vandals and brutes, but they won’t show it,

As they show gentleman and ladies of the Victorian age.

I don’t understand really when I try to be nice they see it as weakness,

When I am precise they see it as dullness and savage act of demise.

Am I an elephant or am I a mouse?

I don’t want to talk you into that doubt.

Try and balance the extravagant gent with almighty vandal you care in that hat.

Or chat with Eve.

Chat with Eve.

After all, there is nothing objective between all those who try to thrive.

Every time I think of her, the vandal in me takes as a vandal should, that is for sure.

When I’m laying on a beach and think of myself as of a civilized man who can ignore

Half naked women running around the shore,

I turn into a loser, who is too weak to feel the grasp of nature

That made us the way it did, and what should do is breed. Breed!

Event the bible inquires that. But we are savages dressed in tuxedos driving in limos,

Who aren’t afraid of the threat that rather afraid of multiplicational debt!

 

 

 

 

Broken Angel

Broken Angel
Broken Angel

Every time I struggle alone,

Every time I am the war of my own,

I want to fly high and away, to heaven,

A place I could call home.

 

But the truth is not every broken angel

Got the guts, got the spine,

We are rather torn,

We can not fight it all completely alone.

 

The world is a huge place.

Merit is scarce, so is the gain,

We only live through loss and pain.

I want to tell you a story of a broken angel,

Broken angel, is one who falls from the sky,

But yet tries to fly.

In that attempt not to turn human and die,

Broken Angel, grasps for the last straw of divine power

That is long ago gone.

 

Beware of the things they tell you about broken angels

They are only lonely because of heavenly adventure,

Remember Michael? Or Gabriel?

They were the most known

Even remarked in the house from over the hill.

 

Now we don’t know what happened to them,

But millennia passed and we haven’t heard

About news or wars that were, as mighty as events

Of the biblical past.

 

Now the broken angel is aghast walking among the humans,

And recalling his own past.

 

Price of living

Price of living
Price of living

Price of living only goes up,

So say the elders.

I want only a bread and a butter,

Therefore I work from the morning

Up till the night.

 

I want to have clothes and music CDs,

You may call me old-fashioned,

But for me, life is not a breeze.

 

Such is the way,

I guess,

People are strangers

And walk stranger ways.

 

I believe there is only time

That can defeat us.

It makes our skin wrinkle and thoughts fade away.

I tend to be waiting for my turn to get older

Be weak and fading away.

 

Stop me if I’m wrong

Stop me if I’m dying

Peace is coming our way

Peace is coming its own time

 

People stand in disbelief and wait for God

To cease,

But the earth is not flat,

There are stories written in the Bible

That still require proofs

And time will show right

That there is a unique force

Guiding the skies.

 

Price of living is sadness

Emotions and stress,

Price of living is being beaten

And rising alone.

Price of living is an ability to fall

And fail when you want to win,

But the winner never takes it all,

There is always something left,

For loser to win back.

 

 

Fuck You Money

Fuck you money
Fuck you money

 

“Fuck you money” – is all we are looking for,

I million or two and a home.

When we can work only if we like to,

When we can talk with whom we really like.

When the sunset and sunrise are not an allegorical way of fate to get us closer

To our demise.

 

I want a mill or two and a decent house.

I want a woman and a child

To take my mind away from brooding for a while.

I want a life with no surprises but with pleasant events and sister, I want that girl

To erase my doubt.

 

No man on earth is that holly

That he never dreamed of “Fuck you money” too.

All I’m saying is that our dreams may come true,

We all might become millionaires and drag it through.

All I want is to be free and do what I really like to do.

 

Maybe my writing will one day grant me that money,

Or maybe it will take me to a grave,

I only know that I must write to not feel a complete defeat.

Some have it well, some have it better, some don’t mind a dollar,

Some don’t mind a hundred, I want to be able not to mind money at all

“Fuck you money” is always good.

 

Dating Scheme

Dating Scheme
Dating Scheme

Every day and every night we seek for someone to make it right,

We make no excuse to those who don’t fit our tender spark,

That lits the life and there to embark us on a journey to a different start.

We are sometimes serious and sometimes playful, full of glee.

We are searching for our life partner, the person that would be there and make us a little bit more free.

 

The dating scheme in life is as necessary as gas for a car to drive,

We have to have a plan, be it a movies or night in a restaurant.

We also have to have a place where we could take our date,

For further exploration.

This method is similar to extrapolation, we care for how one part affects the other,

This way we will her or him and not another.

 

The dating scheme is an adventure in itself,

Unity of what you like with what you even like more,

And such is the game of life, we search for someone who could understand us little more.

After tests and questions and endless talks, I hope you got yourself out of the misery rock,

And were lucky enough to find not only her or him but little glimpses of the God.

As you will realize everything carries in itself a little amount of surprise.

And good will shine and make you live,

And dating scheme will no longer be tense, it would be a polished way

Of making love to that one that you have somewhere already seen,

But found closeness only now, when you stopped the dream and make the step

To better dawn.

 

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