Mirakee
Without you, every room smells
either too little or too much.
All loves are the same in the end,
only remain the scars of touch.
©artistano1
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artistano1
1w
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artistano1
2w
Read More
...
She looked a little sad,
those days of last summer,
when her heels
were coming down into the town,
as when an army marches,
with drums and trumpets
Night was spreading from somewhere
the smell of red poppy fields,
and she had the name of grace.
She looked a little sad,
in that coat,
tailored just for her,
and no other.
Or that sadness was in my eyes,
as I watch her stand,
waiting for the train that drives ex-loves.
She said "i'm leaving"
and she said she heard in my head
drums and trumpets.
And I couldn't watch her anymore,
and I couldn't even take my eyes off her.
She looked a little sad,
in that colorless picture,
which we made for the new year,
and now the picture and the year are old.
Or i'm just old
as I watch as she look at me
from the image of a motionless face.
She said she heard in my head
drums and trumpets.
And I couldn't look at her anymore,
and I couldn't even take my eyes off her.
She looked a little sad,
while she read all my poems,
as she tried to seduce me.
And she didn't know I was a writer,
that the sky is my meadow,
and that my hat is too small for two.
My house is on my back,
and storms blow through my pockets.
But letters and verses sometimes
are not enough to hide you from the rain.
And I couldn't look at her anymore,
but I couldn't even take my eyes off her.
A thousand and one nights
you're just fiction,
a bad diction,
Dostoevsky died in vain,
he missed all those letters of her name.
And I missed her,
in vain too,
and I swing in the square,
like a lantern in the wind,
staring at the promenade,
some sad coat passes,
and rain's feedback for crying dances.
She said "I think I'm a better girl now",
and she said she heard in my head
drums and trumpets.
Written, in vain, by artistano1
Happy new year to you all,
with love from Serbia, artistano1
#genuine_readers #lovepoetry #writersbay
@writersnetwork @mirakee...
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artistano1
6w
Read More
I wander aimlessly,
down a street full of sin
desperate and hopeless,
I fall into riddles
of this terrible city,
with miserable houses.
I watched the chaos and madness
through laughter.
I wonder what I'm looking for
in a sweaty crowd?
Like a huge wave sadness covers me,
and as if a wild beast chasing me,
at every step,
i look for a way out of the circle.
No more sincerity,
and the fog has fallen.
this country has been conquered
many times by other gods,
a lot has passed, and this city,
is still full of merchants and killers.
The sky is not where it used to be,
forgotten due to the accelerated moonlight.
It all came down to drinking alcohol,
and into the weeping laughter of light women's.
Dirty-faces bums begin the song together,
mortally desperate they make sweet noises.
Pleasure lovers show dull faces,
while two girls extend their hands to each other.
And they embrace lovingly,
as they seek mercy
and consolation from one another,
as in a bad dream,
a thought runs through my head:
"How are the same master and slave on this soil"
Indifferent dogs, dragged down the street,
left to life and will.
And I was standing there,
in the middle of that;
Did I ever think I was better?
@mirakee @writersnetwork"Sin city"
©artistano1 -
artistano1
8w
Read More
...
The dim purple and green lights
on the buildings spread the scent
of history through the fog.
I met you through them
on the city streets and squares,
forever looking for your steps.
Thank you;
I am forever trapped in this city.
How sad it is to live with memories.
In the warm room of the rented apartment,
noise came,
the window looked out on the square;
There,
where the gallows used to dance in the wind,
now coats of various colors dance,
with cold faces under masks.
Like actors on boards.
The harsh resemblance
of theater and life in that square.
And so I will begin the book,
the diary of one great love;
"My home is theatre, it's a small dirty town ..."
I'll write to you tomorrow, Gloria.
If I don't die.
As much as I tried
to escape from the theater,
it was getting bigger.
In the beginning,
it was the words of passers-by,
some inscriptions on advertisements, or music. Now the theater has swallowed an entire city,
and surrounded me on all sides,
as I solved the riddles of our encounters,
and put together the puzzles
that make this city what it is;
A scene of super-reality.
Why is every movement in this city a modern ballet?
Why are you all?
-Another annoying handwriting
with a mere list of facts.
Close your eyes, wherever you are now, Gloria.
Let's at least squint together.
I will love you tomorrow.
If I don't die.
The phone rang
just long enough to break the silence.
I called into the handset in vain for a few seconds, the call was accidental.
Are there any random calls at all?
As I listened incessantly
repeating the sound "tu - tu" in the handset,
I looked in the mirror.
(Creating a scene)
I light a cigarette.
She approaches the window
lithely and sophisticatedly
like a ballerina in a theater.
Night and neon signs
have long since covered the city
and cars have made rows
of glowing, winding lanes.
She stared at the moon,
and her bare back merged with the moonlight.
She parted her brown hair
and pulled on the panties
that had cut into her flesh.
The music started.
I took a cigarette smoke,
she inhaled and began to dance.
She bent her arms gracefully,
imitating long-lost wings,
and made movements by
drawing concentric circles in cigarette smoke.
She wanted to reach immortality and then die.
I only wanted her.
What a perfect scene, in a city of dying art.
I'll change your name tomorrow, Gloria.
If I don't die.
Curtain.
Dark.
The end.
Just still counting down
the rhythm from the handset:
"tu - tu, tu - tu, tu - tu ..."
@mirakee @writersnetwork @readwriteunite #genuine_readers #theatre #gloria.
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artistano1
9w
Read More
...
There are a million spoiled beauties
in Belgrade tonight.
There was a buildings of glass.
Due to aggressive moonlights
there is a drive directly to hell;
- Fuck off and thank you!
Its streets are full of beggars,
and everyday street masquerades.
Constant stepping for centuries
drove peace out of this town;
- Fuck off and thank you!
Your character smiles
on the cover of the book.
In that cave of my dark dreams.
Your unconditionally walk
convert from steps to letters;
-Fuck off and thank you!
The moon is sweating on your bed,
while i dream of you,
Gloria, Gloria, I would repeat for days
those few letters thrown into poetry;
-Fuck off and thank you!
Who will stay in your bones,
when the sorrow comes out?
Free me from you,
from everything,
laws and regulations,
memories and connections,
and fear of death.
And dance for last time, here,
in my eyes;
-Fuck off and thank you!
Belgrade has million theaters,
where my character is played,
where the mouth is full of impressions.
There are bars where art dies,
character and hope;
-Fuck off and thank you!
The memory will remain forever,
in the fog of a sad afternoon,
where we finally talked,
first and last time;
-Fuck off and thank you!
I will be in your remorse
for a long time,
hidden under your fingernails
- Drowned in the river of your scent,
away from the coast.
I will repeat your name
as we sink to the bottom,
theater, you and me;
-Fuck off and thank you!
And the memories will bury my soul
and the ivy will cover my face.
I will sink in you like the Titanic,
with light tones
an ancient cinema piano,
by the distant creak
of the first morning tram
and with a cross on back;
-Fuck off and thank you!
You will forget me like
a hastily learned lesson.
As the first quarrel.
What a tragedy to know your name!
Tonight, come here
at least in a dream.
Bring me back to my memories,
where I first started from the bottom,
And imagine a scene
Theater, you and me;
-Fuck off and thank you!
Good night all your tears,
your former toe walk,
i love you forever Gloria,
and,
Fuck off and thank you!
Dark.
Curtain.
The end...
#genuine_readers @writersnetwork @mirakee @mirakeeworld @readwriteunite #daadigotyourback #gloria #lovepoetry...
"Gloria"
©artistano1 -
artistano1
9w
Read More
...
She looked a little sad in that coat.
In that winter.
It's like she only loves me when I leave her.
Art died in the paintings
in which she fastens her bra.
My skeleton is rotten.
Collor. Column. Corona.
Under infrared rays, the Moon is plump,
airy and accurate
in its appearance at celestial parties.
After she left,
my palms plowed more
than when I started my circle.
Circles. Plows. Debts.
- Now, we have started to unknowning each other. But flashes and dreams come by habit.
We should have parted before the pandemic,
in that past life.
The cobweb grabbed the door,
which was closed in one direction.
- Why are you putting padlocks on your door?
She asked in her mind.
Why are you making a circus of my life?
- I criticized her in the mirror.
- What's wrong with circuses?
- At least I can walk on the wire
and stumble ... and fall ... and ...
It'll be part of my show, the kids will laugh.
Everyone laughs in the circus.
- I'm crying.
Circus. Citrus. Cycle.
She nervously walked out of my show.
Seeking transportation for freedom.
She found him quickly.
And my transportation is lost.
In fact, I don't need transportation.
I am the one who stays.
Clowns laugh the most at themselves
in front of the mirror.
Mirror. Clearer. Swearer.
And then comes the procedure:
looking for lost sleep.
In light women.
In alcohol.
In vain.
In pain.
No, in the moonlight.
I will patent the product during the winter;
"An unfaithful woman saves
heating in the bedroom."
- How happy are the failed married couples.
- Since I'm the same artist in the circus,
how I just hate me.
But I still laugh in the mirror.
The motive is the same
for killing and locking the door since you left.
- Don't let someone...
- Don't let anyone.
Artist. Atheist. Arthritis.
Five years later
(everything always happens five years later),
there was a parade
of charged gay particles in the city.
I paraded among the bookshelves.
The letters shone under the lamp,
words fell from the sky,
sky created us,
we created books,
books created shelves.
And the circle closes there.
Round. Scream. Click.
They said on TV that "Get rid of fear"
and I didn't know her anymore.
Her. Her father. Her son. Her holy spirit.
I’m working on writing a screenplay.
The last piece of an ex-man.
It will be called "Name" ...
Or they won't.
- All people get a name,
to be marked by it.
- you asked me,
non-existent issue,
in a non-existent voice,
with non-existent eyes,
losing the clear distinction
between me and everything,
"Is life worth anything?"
Now I need a translator of my own thoughts.
- I'm afraid to forget you.
- To let you go,
and leave you once more.
Because if you don't exist,
then "forever" does not exist.
And I just fell in love with you forever.
Various fears plague people.
Risks, feelings, misconceptions ...
It was Sunday when we left.
I was at the cemetery.
And it wasn’t as black as I imagined.
I was happy to feel sad.
- Does it matter to me what she thinks now?
- when all my roofs were sour.
- Then what matters?
- Something.
- Well, something else matters.
I got scared one last time.
I looked like I loved her,
as I fastens her bra in letters on the paper.
Winter will come again.
Snowflakes.
Well, yes!
- It is matters...
To be ready for a new winter.
To lose her again.
- To lose what I'm afraid of.
- Then all songs would lose their meaning.
Then we would all wear masks.
- You finally taught me to go home.
We loved each other, here.
For the first time, maybe.
Maybe the last one.
Defeated. Trampled. Transformed.
I was standing on the moon.
#genuine_readers @mirakee @writersnetwork.
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artistano1
9w
Read More
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Your panic attacks come at dawn,
and you are no better
if you take off your clothes.
And you're not the only one,
you just don't understand,
you've been a woman for too long.
But where am I?
A thousand wings on my arms,
played the blues for a distant friend,
which I don't have.
A mocking romanticism
I choke the crumpled paper.
Open mouth fireplace,
as on dead guard,
still gaping and silent,
like he can't find,
and seeks
the word sweeps,
for a terrible curse.
And I'm so tired
of periods, commas and letters.
You take the bait,
like any fish.
And you're all waiting for one of your Godot,
who you care about.
And you tattoo my words,
but I need a mirror,
for my fantasies,
to look the void into the eyes.
- A mirror for a hungry stomach
and a cold sleep;
- Wait for me even when you know I won't come.
Life and death pass each other for days
and find a compromise in statistics.
You and me,
long mad;
Like wind and plain.
Show me your breasts,
and hold your breath tight,
that in those few heartbeats
I hear I'm not the only creature on this planet,
languished under his cross.
Someone's at the door,
maybe just a day.
I'll stay here anyway,
engrossed in a mindless dream,
I will sleep for hours.
What does this mask mean
which I can't take off?
I know I'm under her,
in the middle of a party bell
which intoxicated the crowded city,
when dealers procure them,
everything is the same on this ground,
and smell and stench.
I don't need medicine,
to forget sin;
I need centuries
to forget the applause and laughter.
We will never see
Paris with the same eyes.
I will play for a long time
this role assigned to me,
in the defeat that will save me.
Godot, don't wait for me.
In the city of sold souls,
in the city of passion,
you ask a stranger to listen to you,
as you cum on my strings,
you do not hear the song in the birds;
And that's all you need,
in a dirty room,
while your hair stinks of oil,
you don't need love
you need a vaudeville
but you just don't understand.
It remained dark in the room.
And a couple of pale pictures,
dead tonsils,
and some things.
"Nothing" knocked on the door
with a large suitcase
ready to unpack
and settled right there,
in my room,
and to sleep beside me;
and to wake me;
And to look at me from every angle;
I will remain only a messenger of life,
new world order;
"Hannibal ante portas"
"Coetry, corona poetry"
By artistano1
@mirakee @writersnetwork #genuine_readers"Coetry- corona poetry"
©artistano1 -
artistano1
10w
Read More
...
In the suburbs,
I see you sometimes,
and so it goes ...
Some invisible umbilical cord,
we bond easily,
when I meet you
in the antique shop all these years,
which I gave you,
in the aisle, in the suburbs,
in a holiday idyll, on the bed.
Other things i've left behind,
burn, let it burn,
just take a suitcase of songs,
a pair of faded images
and that piece of mirror,
in which we remained still smiling,
in memory, in the suburbs, in silk ...
@mirakee @writersnetwork #poems #daadigotyourback #genuine_readers„In the suburbs"
©artistano1 -
artistano1
10w
The Zoo is the only place where all prisoners are innocent ...
©artistano1 -
artistano1
10w
Read More
...
We envisioned the Corona.
I told you the world would change if you left.
Now everyone is forbidden to kiss.
Instead of love, we spread the virus like flies.
I seem to have found a global problem.
And i don't want a Nobel Prize,
just give her to me.
Yes, we screwed up.
I told you art would change if you left.
And I don't act anymore,
now everyone wears masks.
Night walks were replaced by nightmares,
We lost the stars above,
i lost you,
and they quarantined love.
Like in a weird dream,
like a Mad Max,
we lost diction,
now a smile is science fiction.
I admit, this is all because of me,
and I told you the world would change if you left.
Somehow globally I loved you,
but at the local level of love.
And no, I don't want vaccines,
inject me with her,
maybe it's not too late yet,
maybe try with that,
but, for real,
now or never, choose,
what can we lose?
"Coetry"
Corona poetry
By artistano1
@mirakee @writersnetwork #genuine_readers.
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love_whispererr
2w
Read Moreमेरा समय तो वहीं पे है ठहरा हुआ
बताऊँ तुम्हें क्या मेरे साथ क्या क्या हुआ...
#deserving #wod #candlescC A N D L E S
I was three
And they decorated the whole room
with lots of balloons and
Some colourful candles were there on a cake
My father ignited those candles
and said me to blow them
but I couldn't blow all of them
and my elder brother helped me
after that they wished me a happy birthday
I smiled and the cake was mouthwatering.
I was four
And my mom took me to the
city church on the Christmas Eve
She brought some candles from a shop
and I saw the church was decorated
like my birthday room
"O Jesus Christ, happy birthday
blow these candles now."
I wished him, mom smiled
I was thinking all those nights
why he didn't blow the candles.
I was nine
And one day my grandfather
turned into a star of the soaring sky
Igniting a candle in front of the photo frame,
my mom said "rest in peace, father"
I was wondering who would blow the candle
Me, mom or Jesus Christ !
where the dreadful death
was gulping the beams of that candle.
And today I entered into the frame of eighteen
I understood the conundrum of candles ;
"it was definitely worth a try to
gain an understanding of candles"
© в ι ∂ у α
(3rd jan' XXI) -
wanderer_anki
34w
Why Again
Not wanted to get hurt again like the previous relation
When i thought to love again
Life again takes a U turn and put me on the same situation where i was before during previous relationship
Now i am scared to love again
Scared to trust again
wanderer_ankita -
amulbaby_
10w
Read MoreAt the dead of the night
When caliginosity had covered all over
I woke up knackered even after interminable state of rest, where I was deep asleep.
My feet touched the ground, I felt sopored.
With an austere look, nearly panicking and breathless
I almost impetrated for something (him maybe).
It was all frigid around or so as I felt...
I was aloof since so long and that hand which had promised would never let go didn't even fret a little to probe at places,
Where our pristine love once had it's genesis.
And the same place where I lay cold today...
Those voluptuous moments when you said I'm elegant like a Renaissance Art
And,
Way too attractive than the flowers I held in my hand.
Now my hands can't touch them,
I've lost that impassionate modality...
I'm standing really close to you now,
Almost touching you.
But, I'm forfeited...
I realised that it's only me who can dote upon you,
While you can't even see me.
- inara
------------------------------------------------
Dt- 9/11/2020.
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teenayeggidi
10w
Read MoreI agree that I haven't any experience.. and maybe I am really too naive, but what's wrong in that.. if something bad has to happen, then I'll see how to come out of it..
it's an open secret that I don't like rejections, I don't like defeats then how come you think that I can't manage.. I can.. well, I don't even start that thing if I'm sure that I've to lose..
it's true that I take quick decisions but the folded thing is I always keep backup plans in my hands.. like if no plan B, then I don't even think to implement A..
so I don't need your help.. I'm an adult.. I want to be a monopoly.. let me do things for me my own.. don't interfere with your care.. let me learn how to manage myself.. I know I can do it.. and if by chance I can't then just forget that you even know me.. and about the deadline, it's near and I'll be on approx time..Stress
You're allowed to guide me.. but just don't command me.. because I guess I take my orders only..
©teenayeggidi -
lady_bardquaint
10w
MONEYTALK
Money can't buy happiness?
But why then do i have water bills to pay
My dying sister has to pay to catch a breath
Oxygen ain't at her disposal
My 12 year old child stuck in the kindergarten
Because i can't afford the exams
Why are they even called public schools?
Lets not talk about the food
Because every penny i get pays the right to be a citizen
Taxes
Don't forget the Fierce landlord
at end of every month
An alternative for the cold nights on the streets
And you still say money can't buy me happiness
Give me pound, and you'll give me a life
©lady_bardquaint -
Trust
The only person you should trust immensely is yourself!
©hiigh_on_words -
shaylee
35w
Wishing To Forget
Your face is fading.
I'm not sure if I should be happy or sad about that though.
It's nice to not remember the face that caused me so much pain.
Yet, there's something sad about it still.
For you see I used to see your face for days on end.
I used to study it;
Take it all in, every detail of it, and I used to cherish them.
I would hold on tight to every detail as to make sure I would never lose them.
But alas, they are dissolving,
And I have still not shed a tear about losing them.
©shaylee -
shaylee
10w
DON'T SAVE ME
-TWENTYTHREEDon't wait for the weeks I'm gone
I'm a mess I get worse as the time goes on
Pass by to the great unknown been trash
Let go goodnight won't mourn
Don't save me
Don't save me
Let it break through my skin and replace me -
anush18
10w
Read MoreI love you...in these 9 months we enjoyed a hell lot..take care you @anjali_07
It's hurting..but it will be fine soon.
@starrdust @theultimateinsane @kriits
@writersnetwork #readthisJ #writersbay
@artistano1 @colourfulgreys #NovemberInk
#postforfam #comebacksoon #departurehurtsThere's a way that is waiting for you to come,
The place where your soul resides.
I remember. It was 23rd of October. The next day was your departure. You asked me If I was sad. I said, "why would I be?" You burst into laughter.
Maybe that was for hiding your pain. Right?
I never told but now I can't hold.
/The day I got to know about your departure.
I ran out of the room as I wanted to control these stupid tears. There were people to console in my part, to fill the void that you created, to take your place as a substitute./
But you know what? I was never able to fill that void, those memories always made me weak. Trust me. I can never take your place. I'm zilch without you. My way of expressing myself is different. I can't cry. Crying is not a weakness, but that's not the solution as well. And honestly, last night when you were rubbing your hands on my face to check whether I was crying or not. I was crying but I didn't tell. This way is still waiting for you. We never got to know, how fast we grew up! No one does, right? There were days when we just fought and then came a day when we started sacrificing and adjusting and still living the best moments. Maybe this is what life does when you grow up. I want a promise from you. We will be the same, promise? We will be the same night owls studying with each other or making fun of each other. Or. We will be the morning bird that chirps and fly higher and higher! We will be the same siblings, holding each other when sinking deeper in the blues. We will be the same, fighting with and for each other. We will be the same, represent the worst of us still lovable.
©anush18
/I've got you sister, sister, sister/
#kodalineRocks♡
Good Goodbye! -
shockia
10w
Contrast
For you it's body
But
For me it's mind and soul
©shockia
