Curse

How much 
of a destructive power 
is too much for the soul
to bare on?

Is there a dark, so dark, 
out there - that's being able 
to consume all light... 
the entire light?

How many 
vicious repetitions
will finally destroy the good...
all the good?

Could evil 
be so arch-evil 
to be inherited from
by the young and from the old?

How many generations 
are there needed 
to destroy 
this diamond hard? 

And how such curse 
could be un-cursed 
and evil such
could be undone...

The Grand Design - An Understanding Attempt

Decoding heaven, hell…

Balancing, on one hand,

One’s perfect design,

and evolution on the other.

Understanding…

The master key, the Master’s lock –

disintegrated…

No lock, no key, not even a door?

Pursuing perfection

seams as impossible as a chimera.

The immortality –

to conquer time…

As impossible is the perfection,

at least as of today,

is it an improbable Creator’s plan

as well imperfect after all?

A perfect Architect – Designer,

would He be an author 

of middling structure

that is in disrespect of logic, beauty and of rational?  

The mere existence

of continuous desire for perfection

defies the purpose of a perfect plan

(as of today) for such an imperfect realm. 

Black Rose

Onyx-black rose

is the keeper 
of all souls.

A gentle hand 
is plucking petals

time after time... time after time.    

Guiding Star

Can’t write today –

my pencil’s heavy.

My mind is racing

with the violent ocean storm.

I walk confined

amid the demons,

I hear their

brutal gnash.

With shaking hands

I hold on faintly,

to a reality

not quite so real.

I moments such

of deep desperation,

I search my soul

for help, for hope.

Small baby hands

are holding there

my heavy, tired,

ageing hands.

A smiling face

is always there

to guide me trough

the troubled days. 

I can accept

the days of fluster

and find my way

amid wild seas.

As long as I

have eyes to find her –

my love, my life,

my guiding star.

The Eight Night From Today

Seven days

In seven countries  

Seven times  

I've sold my soul.

Seven times

My seven masters  

Seven nights  

They tore a piece.

Seven parts

My soul is smaller  

Seven parts  

Are still intact.

Seven days

Are running shorter -  

Seven nights will  

Fly by fast.

Your Beloved – Antagonist (With An Encore... in Bulgarian)

Turn around

And look into my eyes.

Now take my hand…

And take me to that ancient drinking hole –

That’s clinging to the cliffs over the black sea,

Where winds are licking

The dark waves with raging passion.

And leave me there

Drinking – to oblivion,

The wine so dark

Like venous blood is when it leaves the body.

As in the desert

I am dying camel thirsting…

Let me drink!

My thirst has no end.. and no beginning.

One last time – let me fuck

Like elephant bull in heavy musth.

To roar, to scream into orgasm

With eyes fixated in that bloated, crimson, savage moon.

And then,

When I fall down,

Like bull into arena, with a pierced heart –

You let my blood to slowly

Flow into the dust.

And like a burning candle at both ends –

You let me burn.

So you’ll forget me not,

And I’ll stay in you – Forever.

Encore... in Bulgarian

Твоя Любим – Антипод

Обърни се.  

Виж моите тъжни очи.

За ръката хавани ме.

Поведи ме към онази стар бар – 

над морето

вятърът дето страстно

ближе тъмни вълни.

Остави ме там

до забрава да пия 

като венозна кръв 
тъмно вино.

Като в пустиня

камила прежадняла –

да пия, защото моята жажда 

няма няма начало и няма край.

За последно да чукам

като разгонен слон.

Да крещя и да вия,

към дива, подута, червена луна.

И после нека – 

като падна, като на прободен във сърцето бик,

кръвта ми бавно да се смеси

със прахта – да изтече.

Като запалената свещ

от две страни ме остави –

да изгоря.

За да ме има тук – при теб и за да ме помниш.

Sad, Sleepy Clown

It is hurting

when I see you hurting…

when your gentle eyes

I see departing from you smile;

And when the sun morose 
is now departing,

when shone

so bright into the afternoon.

If I can not

go back in time

to make you smile,

can’t make the sun

come back to your street…

Then I am slightly lost,

as I have lost my entire purpose;

and I am lingering

from twilight into (yet) another one.

Now I could only put myself

(again) in trust of the wise Morpheus

and try to find a reason

in my dreams once more.

The Crash

The pilot

of the plain

is having seizure!

My life

is going down

to crash the ground!

A piercing alarm

into the cockpit

has locked my face

in dreadful mask.

The body

of the plain

is ghastly shaking.

The turbulence,

velocity –

ignite the brain.

There is a passenger

into the plane –

she’s shouting…

"I can not hear!

I don’t

understand…"

Then,

I’m hearing,

so loud and clear:

“It is all right” she says.

“Beyond the darkens –

there is a light!”

There comes the crash,

the flames,

destruction…

I'm just a shadow

in somebody else’s dream.

Separate Together

Listen to the girl  

who’s singing.

Softly by the window

in the summer haze.

Look into her eyes

and see the moonlight –

dancing slowly,

mesmerizing… in cadence.

Slightly sad –

the song is floating

and flies away

into the breeze.

The last couplet –

the song born, breathing –

the girl now silent,

full of hope.

With quiet pray

she sends her kisses,

along the vibrant,

loving song.

Somewhere,

in the middle of a desert,

a lonely boy

is smiling soft. 

Into his dreams

he is getting kisses. 

He hears 

the singing, praying girl.

Tranquil

Sharp small noise and

sudden movement!

Red, small shadow

catch my eyes.

I look down

from the horizon,

bring my mind

to here and now. 

A little face –

a buxom chipmunk,

is looking up

into my face.

A single moment

of fixation

we lock our eyes

then it moves on.

One second… two –

it took the creature

to unconcern itself

and vanish in the bush.

And now I’m back

to the horizon…

the sky, the universe,

the author of it all.

Now I can feel the pulse

of the little chipmunk,

adjoin my slowing one with

a racing little heart.  

Dreaded Lover Fridge

Bright, fried eggs

are  populating

in my brain the "normal" sky.

Sizzling pizza

(pepperoni)

covers the entire sun.

Love a meal is,

life is craving.  

Normalcy is but a choice.

Just five steps  

the fridge - my lover

waits to lights

my face again.

Love me not!

You cruel lover...

Can’t resist you –

never could.

A Spell Of Love…No More.

(For D. my first true Love) 06/24/2013

First - you carve

these magic symbols

onto scented

candle’s wax.

Add a power,

extra power -

carve your name

right next to mine.

Wear tiny, odd,

rose jewels -

do attract

the love to light.

This ritual,

so well intended,

perform it when

a full moon shines.

Dance or sing,

but very slowly,

let me dance

right next to you…

These magic spells…

Do we still need them?

I need no more,

nor less of you. 

There was a time

when love was younger,

and when we wanted

sometimes some more.

Today I say

“Let love be older”.

So we could grow

yet young  anew.

Areté

The reality of the universe

and of the world...

Was it the force that drove the man

to be creative and to invent the heavens and the earth?

In form of multiple realities –

the mountains and the oceans,

rivers, grass, the trees, the languages and music,

civilization, God?

And then, conceived by man,

these same analogies –

are now the building blocks

of matter that we all collectively perceive as “real”?

But into this reality,

is it the quality that’s resting uncomfortably

under the pyramid of such subjective

blocks of stone - the romantic and an intellectual division

of the world of views to cover up the truth from us?

How one could possibly perceive, and then explain

the quality in such dualistically challenged reality

where knowledge is derived from an object's only aspect

or merely from underlying substance?

Is it the choice of quality that’s based

on our a priori analogies

that is defining on reality that we all,

collectively, and intimately know today?

Could it be that quality

is but another one, distinct reality

existing and uniting

the objective and the subjective realms?

Is there a way the contemporary man

could possibly unite and benefit from

an amalgamated, dualistic view of such reality –

both a subjective and an objective point of view?

And to accept the realm

of quality as a parental

to both the classic and

to the romantic realms?

By re-arranging the metaphysical hierarchy

and by allowing quality

to intermingle and to coexist with time

one then could define two sides of one, dynamic quality.

And so, the pre-intellectual reality that is the romantic quality,

evolves from the emotional, romantic realm

and the intellectual reality – the classic quality,

evolves from the mental and the subjective realm.

Where quality pre-dates reality,

created it and it is part of it.

It is It. It has been always there.

Thus simply everything and all is always one.

Quantum Paradigm

The only earthly guarantee

that comes upon us only once

and at the end of our path

into the clearing;

The only purpose of it all

is (seemingly) that

someone else’s beginning

is in exchange for someone’s end.

And not anything is ever personal

for the ones in the beginning,

not the ones into the end,

nor for the longest ever line itself.

No sure life

after this one,

no sure re-birth,

nor even sure is the oblivion...

It takes a monster

to out-beast another;

and only saints could pray

and have compassion for the both of them.

It doesn't matter who is wrong

or who is right.

One flash of light

will always follow an everlasting dark.

All comes to and end

in the beginning.

It all was done

before all even had commenced.

The Original Sin Miscalculation

Created

Out of inexistence,

And out of

Anti-matter dust,

The man,

Who after got created,

Received from God

Immortal soul.

His first breath

Was pure amazement, 

His second one

Was one of pain.

As one, alone,

He was there standing,

In presence of

almighty God.

The man then pled

With his Creator,

To grant him

One impure wish.

To be not left

To be unaided 

Past the departure

Of his God

God was then put

In delicate position -

Take back

the soul of His first son,

Or grant a wish

And punish all

For the original

Of all the sins...

Failed Magus

I can’t smile,

I can’t cry,

I can’t even

I can’t trying.

The days long

With sun gone

And air dry

My lungs torture.

My eyes dry

Are still blind

Remember

Not tears.

When I’m gone -

Do not try

To bringing back

My botched magic.

Love Me Not

Drag me down,

Seduce me not,

Put no spell of love,

Do not!

As love

Is vicious motivator…

It ruins

As it builds as well.

As one good deed

Would not redeem a bad one;

Nor is a bad deed

a redemption for the good,

So is the future isn’t always

What it seams

To us today.

Please love me not.

Lonely Hearts

(For D.)

You are so lonely

in the night

so full of stars.

You peel an apple,

listen to the daily news

that make no sense.

Then you sit down

in front of the computer

and check your email – again nothing new…

You check the room

of our daughter

if she is well if she still sleeps.

You smile

so kindly –

you hear her breathing…

Then kiss her hand –

so very gently,

you smile again and let her sleep.  

For her, for you,

for your parents,

then you pray silently for me.

You watch the moon,

expecting almost

to find an answer for all that’s gone.

You go to bed now

expecting some day

to go to sleep again with me.

A Love Song For The Light

Some days are easy

to survive

the endless fall

into the rabbit’s hole;

Some days

are but impossible

to listen to the demons songs

into the damned land.

There are no signs,

no clues to follow

into the darkness

of this ancient tomb.

There is no light

nor clear path to follow,

the damned voices

always hunt one’s down.

The only temple

is the mind

the lighter is the soul

(supposedly) immortal.

The only dormant glow

is inside

the only heat

is in the ever heavy heart.

The light is love

and love is knowledge

it lights the light

of aching hearts.

When freed by love

and lit by knowledge,

the souls is free ,

it meets with God.

As God is love.

He is pure knowledge.

He heals with light

and love for all.  

The Price Of Happiness

Is the price we all have to pay

for our happiness so high,

so less and less of us

can barely afford it?

Did it become a privilege

to be a member

of the exotic and prestigious

happy club?

Is there a back door

you could enter

in their building?

Is there a secret knock?

Is there another way

to get in to their meeting place? 
Somehow be one of them -

the ones who are happy and content?

The price, they say,

one pays (of course)

is money

but money isn't merely enough.

One must also learn

and dedicate long years

to study all about

the misery that there is on earth.

And once one passes

all examinations,

and pays the monetary tool,

one is finally allowed  into the club of the happy ones.

The tall door is then slowly opened.

There comes a light and happy laughs.

A flash of glory and one step further…

to exit on the other site and on the same boulevard.

This Isn’t My True God

The hell’s not the end, nor is it the beginning.

The hell is now and all around.

The hell tastes good and looks so pretty…

The hell is singing songs, the words feel true.

The mighty God has been created in

The beginning of the time. Into the holy of

The temporal lob of His creator -

The man who sinned and who was fearful to die.

It was the sin that gave birth to the Holy Father.

It was the wrongdoings of His holy son.

It was the wickedness of the Holy Spirit.

It was after all the cowardness of man.

The man created the Almighty,

In his likeness – to be his own immortal God.

He made Him jealous and all seeing,

All powerful to judge and punish sins of man.

And after God was so created, he grew in power over time.

He punished with a mighty zest.

With time God then become Himself creative –

And broke the chains to reprimand all human sins.

And then created all His angels,

To do His job instead of Him.

Directed them to do His business,

So He can rest His crushing thumb.

The God was no longer perfect, nor almighty, nor divine,

As He created something beautiful but ultimately so exceptionally wrong.

The angels grew their own creative powers,

Then turned jealous of man and of God Himself.

The Angels broke their chains of being perfect,

And seized to talk to man on God’s behalf.

And then God decided in His Holy wisdom,

To punish these grey rolling stones to fall from heaven on the earth.

The guilty angels Lord re-named to Demons,

Creatures of the dark.

He did not kill them, nor destroyed them,

His own children - He made in his acumen to be His own right hand.

In His dexterity divine, perhaps of luck of judgment,

He sent them dwell in the infernal underworld.

God didn’t chain them there however.

He let them dwell the world of man as well.

Then He did sent His only son to earth to bring new resolution.

But His son “did not come to bring peace, but sword” to man.

He came to “turn a man against his father”

As He was rebellious against His Father too.

God got eternally and truly angry,

To man, to His son and to the angels too.

He punished all of them to tempt eternally each other, 

As He eternally is upset with man - for the punishment eternally to be his God.

The Storm

Storm!

It is now brewing.

The slow clouds gather,

for ruthless feast. 

A moment dies,

another born is.

The smell of fire

burdens skies.

Electric kiss -

a hiss of dragons,

a thunderclap

explodes in ire.

The first rain drops

fall heavy, oily;

to touch soon dirt

and turn to mud. 

Beneath the grime,

somewhere hidden,  

a future life

expects the rain.

Mindful are the seeds

of nothing,

but water only

that will bring them life.

Just A Phantom

There was a time,

when I was different,

where all the same

was all the best...

I never wanted

to be the specter.

I later wished

to be like all…

I still differ

from everybody,

devoid of wish 

nor have the choice.

I am 
but merely a shadow,

without a face 

nor real world name.

Have You Ever Kissed A Dragon?

They say

it is all possible

in the dreams

and they say correctly.

I dreamt it first

then did it all again;

the same God-awful

image of me all in flames.

I saw the dragon

and approached it;

I looked it in the eyes

and did not stop to move forward.

It had the greenest eyes

and it was smiling;

It said “come closer,

kiss me and you’ll never die.”

One can’t see the flames…

but I am burning.

Inside, outside,

in this life, in all others that may come.

I am the flames,

I am the dragon’s own breath.

Fire can’t kill the dragons,

nor one can put off the flames that started of a kiss.

The Circle Of Life And Of Death

(Life And Death In Antarctica)

The mad winds vivacious  

are moving

the mountains of 

robust, sharp violet snow.

It is the winter’s reign

that mightily bellows

with ruthless,

savage, dreadful zest.

The sounds of hell

discordant, paltry –  

the chorus old

of long gone gods.

The lone public devoted

of the demented, dark, blues

is an Emperor’s penguins

dark, dancing, little crowd.

For the outside spectator

macabre is this.

Idolatry are the dancers,

and pagan’s the dance.   

In the core

of the rhythmic, slow movement 

the smallest

of their own  

goes around and around.

Enveloped by their dancing mothers,

encircled by protective, dancing dads,

The dance has much greater purpose –

keep the heat! Preserve frugal life!  

There’s another 
intrinsic of reasons

for the unstopping, 
so gracious dance…

Outcasting the sick and

the old ones!

So the outermost circle’s not moving - 
fading slowly in violent, brisk snow.

Un déprimiste

“Teacher?” the disciple bowed.

“Yes son?” the master bowed back.

 “How do I defeat

my depression?”

“You don’t!”

“You will look into it,

long enough,

and there you’ll find splendour”

No teacher 

said this. 

Nor a disciple

ever existed.

It was me -

my own inspirational master.

I was the disciple

who did listen and found beauty there.

The Day and The Night

(For D. - Thank you!)

You've never said

“goodbye” to me.

You've never let me

close my eyes and make all go away.

You've knelt and touched

my ugly scars.

You've screamed at me

“Come back and fight!”

Infinitely I am destroying

and infinitely you are recreating back the world.

You are the Day, I am the Night –

always next to each other, always in love.

Imperfect By Design

Into one’s seemingly 

all satisfying, pleasing, inter-connected living,

momentarily is all satisfaction, 

monochrome and introverted are the days.

Sometimes it is but one spark 

that takes to burst one’s world

into creative flames 

and change it.

And sometimes,

looking back into one’s world in flames,

is when one fails to realize

that Ignorance is married to the Rigidity of Mind.

Why one is in the habit of perpetual self persuasion -

“something very basic in the world, 

fundamental is so very wrong, 

so brutally non-divine?”

How one is capable of comprehending 

and pursuing the divine perfection 

in spite of imperfection of the flash 

limitations of the mind and the transgression of the soul?

Is it by looking up 

in moments one seeks more light 

on one’s back, when beaten and alone, 

one realizes - imperfections were encoded by design?

At Lunch - Long Time Ago

Inside a small bistro,

that overlooks the ocean,

that holds no memories,  

nor vision of a future;

At nearby white clothed table,

in that long departed afternoon,

the time was having glass of port,

relaxing quietly and dozing.

Enjoying wordlessly with you

the frivolous, white, luscious hairs

of bold, tall waves that never sleep,

to dance on their appealing shoulders.

Into the darkening

September sky,

colossal, made of clouds old gods 

were fighting.

We called our past

(that day our maître d')

to bring us second glass of wine, 

before the day was really over.

That past was young,

and careless, foolish -

so full with hope

and unfulfilled, sweet dreaming.

We paid our bill.

The wine was over.

We tipped our past

then we were gone. 

A Peaceful Sleep of A Ginger Cat On A Large Copper Plate

When I’m doubt

about the future,

in recent days

I’m constantly in doubt…

I’m trying hard,

persistently to hold on

to an image from the past  –

a ginger-red, large dozing cat.

We exited with you

that summer day

the lovely mom-and-pop bistro

that oversees the sea, as well the brutal ancient cliffs.

That distant summer,

walking slowly – care free,

we saw that sleeping cat,

an omen maybe, maybe just a cat…

Behind a fence of pallid stones,

on yellow table on a copper pan,

the cat was snoozing

peacefully-relaxed.

Around the red, magnificent feline

we counted dozen little copies

her sleeping kittens –

so safe, so care-free…

I hugged you, and you hugged me,

and for a moment

the peaceful image just fitted

in the harmony of the universe and time.

We passed them by

and left them to their dreams

to walk into the afternoon

and into the rest of our life.