Goodbye, November

Take my revenge and envy with you,
Unchain my horror, begin my story anew
Let me sink, follow your deep voice
Goodbye, November, go and rejoice.

My sweet delay of grinding use
Away from falling apart, set loose
Waving at the wind, pouring air
Tears are all I can wear.

It's cold, black; but it's really just white.
November, how do you manage to leave
And undo what I so desperately long to weave
My story, my army, my mission, the fight.

Mirrored Glass

Only that in you which is me can hear what I am saying.

This is your beginning, a positively imaginary image. Indeed, I know what you have become, and also what you were once. I know, because I created you. Nothing is impossible in one's mind, and I had no rest until I turned my own mind into an impossible to understand one.

This is my ending, a positively ordinary object. No doubt that you wonder how you got here. Do you know your story? Will you ask me to share it? Will that eagerness with which I gave you shape be present in your voice, when the time comes to face me? Will your blue eyes sink in my own, and will your little white hands cover your both ears, when I begin my tale?

Will you recognize me in you? And will you betray me? Will you claim your superiority and say your age is twice mine?

Whatever your reaction is going to be, I will keep silent. For my aging will neutralize yours, and we will become one. That is my beginning. That is your death.

Will you become the talented young lady I taught you to be? Will your mind be as sharp as I imagine, and will you find him? Does he exist, even? This is my inquiry; I now demand my answer. Since I surrendered to your portrait, I've become insensitive and absent. As long as I knew you would be there, I could hide wherever I wanted.

If I could ask you and receive your vivid response, I would - will I ever be you? Shall my person ever give the outstanding impression that you now give? Will I persist in my own memory? Will I forget myself? Will I last?

But no one will ever know your story but me. I created you, and I want you to become real. But not now, you are not needed at the time. For the characters in my mind are not here - so you must not either. Will you remember me, dear self? My time is here, yours is away. Do not turn away - I still need you! My time is filled with your sentiments, plans and achievements. Do not wander off, I beg!

And now, to conclude, I ask you this: will you still be me, so that you can hear what I am saying?

My Memories, so crushed

The past, that once was my present,
And this present, that then was emerging
You, never present even, nor ever existing,
You, come and gone, so quickly dismissed.

This rapid change of nothing, this silence I was left
This gift from no one, which I heartily accept -
This scary mind, which I can't control
The hope of nothing, the hope for all.

You, a vanished part of me now
These hidden portraits, which I here bestow
Your face, my light, but now it's dark
As I materialise you with this remark...

Accept my excuse, my humble sorrow
Nothing reasons me while hollow -
As I keep away from their real world,
As I wonder if your heart's become cold.

I can't remember, I'm sorry for it
You are now grey, but then my eyes were lit
What can I say, no and yes,
Is it more... is it less...?
Should I ask myself if you had been true,
Never doubt me
Never have I,
But how could I not,
I am sorry.
...I never meant to forget you.

Time

...How it dreads its own moves,
And how it struggles to keep behind,
But how it dares fall apart each time,
And how no one approves,
And how its arms stretch too wide,
And how its seconds run out of time,
When will it stop moving at all?
One step after, two before.
Never, may it be so, but how can I tell?
How can I see the one that winds it,
How can I see the one, will we meet,
How can I picture myself in this light,
How can I see the wrong instead of right,
Where is the peace, the solitude,
What do I now thus conclude?

Once Again

Great is my patience,
Still greater it is not.
Once again I've begun
Telling a story long gone.
Is it a loss, or a gain
Being so very vain,
In need of fellows badly
Which I am, sadly.
Once again I've made use
Of anything I could abuse;
Whether I afford it or not,
I still enjoy it more than a lot.
To possess true meaning
Out of nowhere - no one's winning
This is my story, this is my word,
Whether this I'll ever afford.
Telling a story long gone,
Great is my patience,
Still greater it's not,
Once again I've begun
This poem read by none.

Me?

Tragically defeated, my face, so long before I raised it,
You forever blamed me for another's failure,
So happy I was, when you decided to beat
The last glimpse of peril that you saw in me,
Tragically defeated, and never admitted.
My dear, your disappearance caused no panic,
For none believed that one was weak,
None considered your absence severe,
Until you decided to once again appear,
To continue what was once left beside;
Thus you found in me guilty misery,
But what you did, it was your own creative spirit
That made you indulge my sadness and overlook it.

Poem I

Am I a so called poet, with these words that rhyme,
These thoughts found never in any time,
This horror I inspire within no soul,
This mad character I made, that plays no role?

Am I a so called poet, if I place words
Not knowing where I'm heading towards,
Not knowing even anything at all,
Being a character that plays no role?

Is this right perhaps, and am I wrong,
Are you weak, and maybe am I strong?
Is there any joy I might find,
In winning a prize, if one of the two was blind?

Is it me, or is it another,
Do I struggle, or don't I bother,
Should I, could I, did I, will I
Face the lies I now imply?

Is it love, or may it be not,
Is this seen, and felt, or not,
Should I be among those, pray,
Is this strange, stays in my way...?

Loss

I lost my companion...

In this battle I had never understood
I thought I couldn't, and yet I could
So easily alienated, so little time wasted
As if... yes... no...
As this was nothing but so impishly hasted.

And I did nothing to keep them,
No, I did anything but keep them,
I ran away, so avid in my chase,
That I couldn't remember to keep


their pace.

Back then I was so naive, and it seems that -
no, it is only a day since I lost them,
But maybe they'd begun to fall apart
from me,
behind me,
without me,
earlier than I know now,
Which hopefully I'll forget, forgive and leave
In the hands of someone else,
while I am so...

...deceived.

Fair

Who am I?, and why do I wander
In this rigid creation, and will I ever admit,
That I am not the leader of anyone
Nor the companion of someone
Nor the reason to bleed tears
Nor the cause to chasing dreams
Nor the vain object of someone's wish?

But as hard as I try to end this,
Nothing comes out, I am aware.
Everything is hollow, and mean, lost its light
And nothing is shining, no stars in the night
And nothing awaits me, and even so,
My blame it is entirely, I can't say it though
And desperate I am not, but I should be
But how can I hate me,
When I'm not a rescuer
Nor the last link of sorrow
Nor the first object of tomorrow

Nor everything others are,
No, I am not,
And I deserve no such thing as mercy,
I know,
For curtains are reaching the floor,
No one applauds, I am aware -
I'm not a delight, not close to fair.