Heart Controller

O old chief of a willow tree, Feed your branched offspring, Angry weeps from my wells, Filled by forgotten headlines, I know few facts to share, Wounds hold us together, Dreams lift us together. Though wars only – Deepen our wounds, Shatter our dreams – My Form Crumbles O old chief of a willow tree. Saturday, 15 th of August 2015

Will the kings ever rise above a cumulonimbus cloud And speak some sense to the sky that covers their land? Or has the knowledge been removed from the crowd To teach us that once upon a time we were a grain of sand? Will the kings ever meet the commoners for a cup of tea And become an image of true nobility that does not decay? Or has nobility formed soldiers to mix blood with the sea To teach a supposedly sick society how to humbly betray? Will the kings ever show their true loving fatherly face And form a pact with us who hold them so dearly? Or have they started fearing our knowledge and race To never teach us our own magnificent history so clearly? Sunday, 05 th of July 2015

“You arrive to confiscate my heart, You tie it around the streetlights With a thick rope as if on a leash, My heart? Leashed? Why o’ why?” Prince and princess on her night, A dazzling wedding full of flowers. “Blooming lilies hanging by your Neck, while mine rope becomes Even tighter, unable to breathe, Unable to express any emotion.” Princess pulls the rope to drag The prince on the floor enslaved. “On my wedding night treated As a worthless flesh, and her Eyes watch in great pleasure, While mine are dried in fear.” Prince and princess on his night, Preparing the bed is completed. “I might be in a circus, a clown, Where she laughs hysterically, Claps chaotically while the rope Gets tighter for the last time.” Princess unties the rope and Spits fire on the dead rapist. Thursday, 11 th of June 2015

You arrive to confiscate my heart, You tie it around the streetlights, You use a thick rope as if on leash, My heart? On leash? Confiscated? Who am I to you and you to me? A prince for the gorgeous princess, On her exotic floral wedding night. Your soul and the lilies hanging by Your neck – while mine the rope Gets even tighter, unable to breath, Unable to express any feelings, You pull the rope and I’m dragged. The princess watches in a VIP seat, Enjoying a scene in a theatrical show. You put me in a circus, and you Make me into a clown, laughing Hysterically, clapping chaotically, The rope gets tighter, and your Eyes keep watching the suffering. The princess enslaved the prince Into darkness to welcome death. Thursday, 11 th of June 2015

Disintegrate for I have judged a piece of Meat not even worthy of mentioning, Disintegrate for all bonds have been sliced Beyond repair revealing a sooty flesh, Disintegrate for maggots have been allowed To swarm a loathsome rotten mind, Disintegrate for the time of a peaceful Chat has switched to fumed smokes, Disintegrate for the harshness in my Voice have snapped into lethal pikes, Disintegrate for the desert has sworn To protect the footprints I produced, Disintegrate for earth has witnessed Days of mountainous lies and arrogance, Disintegrate today, tomorrow, and Forever for I can't stand your presence, Disintegrate for the twenty-five-year-old Bond has just been severely disintegrated. Wednesday, 03 rd of June 2015

The conscious is always admired, but today the conscious is tired, Unable to form a linguistic command that would interrupt a blank page, Stares idly at something blurry that fades into a template, A structure, part of a frame, watched every second as the eyelids drown, The conscious still trying to imitate its previous self, though– A past becoming a foreigner and the headache of it all begins, Every sound is an attack to its personal privacy, A characteristic of a burnt-out incomprehensible conscious, And as you can see, reader, it produced a wounded poem. Wednesday, 27 th of May 2015

As I look into the human mind, I see a lonesome pulsating nerve, Enslaved for another to serve, And wishes to never become blind, I see him possess a little hope, But bullied to bury a loving heart, And to imitate a work of art, And get back to being tied in a rope, I see him a faceless portrait, And the pulse is lost beyond reach, A story to tell many kids to teach, I quit and draw my self-portrait. Tuesday, 19 th of May 2015

Souring over the glorious heavens without any fears, Clouds forming beneath my two long feet to start A wondrous climatic ritual rebelling against the smog. Voices of wisdom ascend rapidly that my soul hears, Purified Earth Whisperers pray for rain and take part In the yearned ceremony that shadows start to cog. The inevitable action of a reaction of their peers Would remove the shadows’ dark flag and depart Back to where they belong lifting the obscure fog. An epic battle of the eyes to hold onto drops of tears, Since loyalty was questioned by a burning heart, And answered by a saddened innocent lonely dog. Saturday, 16 th of May 2015

If the search for a voiced metaphor is depleted by arrogance, Then would the mountain not split into volcanic eruptions? And lead the soul to depravity living a life void of elegance? Indeed it will, for I have been told an untold self-tragedy, Great fortunes to reside underneath a humble comedy, And so, I begin to seek a lady in costume for a remedy, The hope of a surgical clockwork to tune a cogwheel, Or change its elements after exposing its rusty steel, At the end, time has shown the frail soul how to heal. Friday, 15 th of May 2015