when i write some poetry nowdays ,i don't think at poetry at all
if someone will like to ask :hey what's all this poetry on about?
some unexpensive buzz and rotten feelings?
I would have to say :mate , is all about beeing seduced by words
and when i'd get tired with it I will just say :
well this is for you, for the only one you, that is liking to beeing seduced by them , by blody dreamy and unmetarial words
i really don't like poetry at all
is too sophisticated and forgotten somewhere in a book from that old shelther
is not here anymore
this blody time played with all those gifts that were given to me
they were posesing me ,but now I just look poor
where is the glory of the poets from another days ?
I ve got an email though i miss my pen
I ve got an soul but i have got no piano
i have a language that it cannot be used.
I have everithing but is not enough.
I still love rains and orange juice.