Saturday, 7 November 2009

Since Nineteen Ninety Seven

Lonely nights;
Darkness,
but only,
the office lights,
with the silence;

With my computing machine,
and mind fries
memories,
and the eye also,
never wiped away tears;

With books accompany,
but what I am reading is,
my diary;

The deep need,
from here to leave;

The wish to clean,
the planet from wastes;

I washed my notebook,
many times,
but still remain
the all lines;

I threw it away,
out of mind,
but keeps creeping
to my dreams,
and bites,
pieces of joy,
tranquility and stillness,
turning the raining to lightening that,
the shore becomes volcano,
the sea turns a desert;
I merely forgot the desert,
and want to make sure how the sea looks like;

I don't like my dreams,
the erase of memory that,
never happen when the core keeps,
the sculpture of the face who,
has been living there since
nineteen ninety seven;

No one would have suffered,
if the scultpture was returned
to the shore,
to the rock,
to the sands;

I have thrown my notebook again,
and ran far away;
Got white papers for
new lines that,
I thought but,
when I was filling my pen
with the ink,
my old papers
fell down from the sky,
just to here, to my left that,
I couldn't believe and,
came to my dreams again that,
if they were real in,
nineteen ninety seven,
this truth would have never been realized,
this mistake would have never been committed that,
the core, the memory, the soul are
grateful for a story teaches that they
learned that they learned one thing that,
to know they know nothing and,
one day they will learn that,
what they learned is one thing,
they still know nothing since,
and since before, nineteen ninety seven;

Mistakes have been committed,
the truth lies in a mistake that,
was not the first nor the last but,
the moonlight was there in,
nineteen ninety seven.

Moon knows more than me,
Moon knows how to change,
and knows how to be always beautiful in our eyes;

Before nineteen ninety seven Moon was
my dear friend.

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