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is it still there
dark sun of bug-eyed earl
for which he will never turn
nervous laugh of tiny earthling, who sees
because cannot have no eyes anymore
or clapping of our tiny hands
in which we join our hands in acceptance of lords crimes
or silent music of clenched fists
it is more than mourning
it is cancer
with claws in heady thrill hewed
in centers of humanity’s self-satisfaction
with claws invitingly opened around the world
inviting for taste
take this
maybe for the last time
today, our children’s future is eaten
and the world is melted
there is not left and right, there is no murder and victim
there is no truth and lie no more
slaveholders and slaves both are we the same
and sad children’s eyes are not shouting us the answer
we will not turn for the sun
for not to see it’s darkness
it is possible to stand and say no
it is possible to shout
behold, there is part of me, a piece of world
seek for another
Bio a historie
wala
why is the world so sad to live in
why is the air so hard to breath
why was i forced to hear that gruesome words
from these innocent lips
palestine sadness
suicide or martyr
suicide and martyr
created harsh misunderstanding together
developed poison to drink for blindness
she never saw a face of her enemy
face of a jewish child
what can i do
autumn beauty
you were the only one to pet my heart
encourage it to beat again
feed it with feast of thousands tears
smell of mandarin
by your hands i've felt
the heartbeat of creation
two bodies two parts of one soul
your way is my way
one step from paradise
i’ve learnt the meaning of the word
together
grudger
fundamental yet not realized
attempts to stay in middle
i pay them with bitterness
thus niceness is bitter
twice the pain of tit for tat
half of its effectivity
i’m a grudger
naive are the allies
distinction impossible
united we fall
bound to not betray each other
bastards don’t mind their itch
there’s always some to scrape them
i’m a grudger
no one rides my back
no one will misuse me
lonely i die
lonely i’ll cease to exist
i’m a grudger
sexy sons (hypothesis)
handcuffed to the top of fate
delight the taste
i do hear the trumpet
not calling me
she couldn’t steel not possessed
and no, the right term is „i’m occupied“
worthy of fuck and stealing those breads
i’ve seen them children
heat the womb
for others to lay
there is joy and here is purpose
i must be loved
queen, give me your sugar
i bet you can’t hold the whip
say your part
say you’re living life
so rational
good boys will be first
it’s just a matter of time
the prevailing will prevail
the bank won’t keep a dime
and them who keep peace will be heirs
calculated optimism, boredom of attempts to
predicted plausibility leaves no doubt
leaves no value to the current
carry the one to the age of expectance
additions of ones give us no profit
it’s irresistible in such a good manor
at least we won’t know the number of rounds
we still can keep some dignity
why to be satisfied
math is a harsh mistress
i want it happen now, but no
i won’t take a part
i won’t resist the blueprints
poor me
richard dawkins‘ eyes
no, i do think i understand
i beg your pardon?
though i may look like one, no, i’m not
oh, i haven’t seen you around either
it all comes together
and i sleep good at night finally
it’s the small things that makes it worthless
in feels so marvelous
it raises shattered to the meaning
no good, no bad, but reasonable
actually, once i thought the same
and u can’t stop thinking like that
blessed are the cogwheels
woe to the rest
lord of the mountain
dog chasing it’s own tail has more of a value
sysiphus knew that
there’s no point of rest
hollow was fulfilled
doors shut
reality’s leakings‘ time is gone
no more emerges on our way
from the beginning of world was he
(as far as he knows)
let us dance
the balance of extinction
it awaits us in the valleys
it’s nice
founder effect
the web of coalescence
caught them
whatever it was
it can’t be explained
it came slowly through the crooked ways
it’s nice to see the trends
it’s flattering
and sure it feels great to interpret
but it was the web
the web has chosen
that’s all
stochastic rule
there are no rhymes in popper’s universe
there is no poetry, just riddles
stochastic pattern encages the eyes
although it enables the vision
correlate the regression of thoughts
with what once was called transcendence
throw the hare on tortoise there
you’ll see the trend but not the distance
there is no sense in popper’s universe
there is no rest on adaptive meadows
stems hurt feet with predictability
soil burns with prediction
statement is underlined
conclusion done
you can’t be positive –
there’s to few of you