A Very Short Prose about Rain

Rain is the most inspiring phenomenon in life. More than volcano, more than meteor traveling as a shooting star. Rain is blessing for the earth.

10. It is He who sends down rain from the sky: from it ye drink, and out of it (grows) the vegetation on which ye feed your cattle. 11. With it He produces for you corn, olives, date-palms, grapes and every kind of fruit: verily in this is a sign for those who give thought.
(An-Nahl 16:10-11)

***

And rain is blessing for the heart and mind. Especially mine.

Everytime it rains, it feels like I can draw a thousand words. About everything: About reality or reverie. About the present, or memories. About life, or suicide.

That is because rain helps me to feel more about everything: Warmer about the chill. More painful about pain. More lonely about being heartbroken, and far from home.

That is because, when it rains, everything becomes blurry so I don’t believe my vision as much as usual.
That’s when I sense my favorite:
the tone of raindrops,
the smell of wet ground,
the chill of the still,
and the taste of coffee.

I believe in you, Michael. The way I believe in Azrael.

This Morning was Perfect

This morning was perfect:

News was bad,
sky was dark,
bread was stale

Empty plate and dirty spoon,
rippled shirts and dusty window,
the old gramophone,
and swinging sixties melody

Nothing was in the right place;

My red heels,
our black & white Polaroid,
my mind

This morning was perfect.
Let’s get out of this city
Don’t die today
I’m calling you

GEA General Election: The Hearing, and The Dawn

Along the night
We had blurry vision
Of plastic glasses
Half empty with black coffee

Lights were low,
High-pitched tones,
And dead cigarettes
Laying on the floor

We wore the same
To bore, to blame,
My rubber shoes
Damped with sweat

Dances were skipped
While our dreamless eyes
Dimmed with exhaustion
Then we slept awake

(After a really tiring hearing….)

Let’s Runaway and Join a Circus Gang

Let’s runaway
And join a circus gang
We’ll wander around
Riding caravan

We’re gonna make it
Country to country
Where the grass is greener
And spaces are wider

We’ll play everyday
Under the sunshine
Below the moonlight
Among the little lamps

There are plenty of children
With smiles to laugh
Heart beaming
Wind chiming

We can have cotton candy
Or jump on trampoline
Whenever we like
Whenever we care

We can do the tango
And the clowns won’t judge
We’d forget about our age
And how we grow older
***

Let’s runaway
And join a circus gang
Let’s pack everything
Start with your Holga

Let’s runaway…

Carousel

He’s her carousel
Of sad tale
Of silent melody
A broken remedy

Spinning, spinning around
Think she’s run far
But she only reached the start
There he always be

She’s always back
And missing him
Spinning, spinning around
Think she’s run far

But she only reached the start
There she’s always back

(I miss those times I dedicated you a bunch of songs)

Fireworks

The rain falls on January, 1st
Wiping away the sins and the dust
From the very last night

Every dime that turned into
Temporary sparks
Of joy and delight
Boiling the sky
Burnt, melted, faded
As we laughed, we danced
As the clock ticked
Wrapped the memory
Blasted remedy
Of thousands drops
Of friendly fire
Burnt, melted, faded

The rain falls on January, 1st
And nothing is left
But three hundreds and sixty five days

Song Looping Song. Another Song Looping Another Song.

Hey there, Patrick
I’m looping the song

You might not know, Patrick
How wrong everything has been
How long I have mourned
How many times I’ve been looping

The song of you
About her
The song of me
About you

But you might know, Patrick
Another song
That another girl next door
Has been looping

The song of you
About me
(The song of him
About her)

After Midnight Thoughts

I
Am I nocturnal or I just slept too much in the afternoon?
I know you don’t know
You don’t even have any idea who Pelle Carlberg is
He’s a genius

II
Pelle Carlberg is a genius
He sings a song about a beloved imbecile girl
But (…)* is a prodigy
So don’t masturbate with his pic

III
Monks don’t masturbate, do they?
I recommend them Sigur Rós
For ear orgasm, and melted heart
But never half tired brain; tired or not at all

IV
Eventhough my brain is masochist
It’s still malfunctioned after midnight
I wonder if so is everyone’s
So was maybe Cinderella’s

V
Maybe Cinderella was brain malfunctioned after twelve
That’s why she had been told to come home before that
She left the glass slipper, didn’t she?
And if she were there any longer… I begin to wonder

VI
Cinderella would start screaming on the top of her lungs
About how much she fell for that skinny prince
How many pages in her diary she drew about how bad she wanted him
Then maybe she would start lighting a cigarette

VII
Cinderella was not a bad girl, but I am better
She went to dance party and I am studying
She cried and I am meeting her inside my brain
With melted ear, tired heart, and brain orgasm; I go to sleep

*) Well, it’s a name. Of my friends. Who rocks. He does. Hoho.

Written in March 23rd, 2008.
Cinderella lighting a cigarette? A really awesome idea from malfunctioned brain. Hff..

untitled

PROLOGUE
If I like you this much
Will you just leave and hide
To your world
With a pack of cigarettes?

~

She’s lost just now
He’s not on the map
Maybe too far, maybe too deep
She doesn’t drive or dive

Maybe too high, maybe too good
She can’t fly or dance
She’s lost just now
In her imagination

She imaginates he imaginates
She draws and reads
He smokes and sleeps
He draws and reads

She’s sleepless
So he is
They aren’t meant to be
Maybe they are

They do same things
They live in different worlds
Maybe not that far
But who knows?

~

EPILOGUE
If I like you this much
And you know that
Will you meet me
In our imagination?

Written on March 23rd, 2008.
Wonder if you know…
Don’t you know nothing, do you?  

White Dress is Just a Symbol

White dress is just a symbol
And we all love symbols
That we symbolize everything

Red polished nails for sensuality
A for ‘excellence’
Heart shape for love

We are so busy symbolizing
That we often forget
The meaning, or more, the reason

We draw heart shape
Between our names
Then we’re busy again thinking

White dress is just a symbol
Of anything we want
Then we’re busy again, wanting

Written on January 26th, 2008.

Save the Last Page for Me

I want to draw the sky
On your heart
I want to color it blue
And smile like the morning

I will add a rabbit
And a balloon
And color it white
And red

You want to draw
Yourself
And I don’t wonder
Why I like you

I will draw another rabbit
Better than to be alone
At least a destination
Words of “happily ever after”

So save the last page for me

Written on January 15th, 2008.
I  should’ve known I’d fall for you this much.

Rufus Might Have Tried

The books are wide opened
But the pages are empty
Or too full
That they are black

And you seem so perfect
Because I only see you from the north
When compass doesn’t work
That you are made of steel

And I hate myself when I’m alone
Because I will go too far
And out of my mind
To cross the borderline of hell

I’m a tresspasser
with grey converse and green tee
I wanna jump to through to you
Like Jimmy Hopkins to the assylum

Rufus might have tried
To sleep with eyes open
But it’s too cool that he & I can’t
So we srite a song

But the pages are empty
Or too full
That they are black

The books are wide opened

Written on November 14th, 2007 at 01:31.

Or It’s Just The Rest of The World

Pink cardigan doesn’t remind me of you
Nor the cigarettes
It’s the elevator
Or it’s just the rest of the world

When writing I wish
Someone would turn it
Into song
That leads you home

When walking alone I wonder
You would drive by
And you wouldn’t see my tears
Because I’d be looking at the ground

TV doesn’t remind me of you
Nor the story
It’s the street
Or it’s just the rest of the world

Hahah. Pink cardigan.
Written somewhen in 2007. Forgot to date it.

She. He.

These are two poems i made as a couple.

*

She

Last night I saw him
In my dream
Still a producer
Still a single

And she was there
Too
Still his friend
Still my sister

And I miss her
I’m still a girl of contradiction
Step on two worlds
I’m just too young to be her

*

He

Last night I saw her
In my dream
Still my role model
Still I wannabe her

And he was there
Too
With his jeans and tees
With true george

And I don’t really miss him
Or his slanted eyes
Or his songs in his iPod
He’s just older than he looks

*

for my sis and mas danil. i saw you both in my dreams last night.
October 24th, 2007

She Doesn’t Care It’s Raining II

She sits together with loneliness
Where she is protected from the rain
But not from the coldness that absorbed
Into her every cell and referie

She sits with empty pockets
But still she can watch
Couples, wet, and in love
And her stomach just growls

Sigur Rós still sings Sæglópur
She wants to be bleeding just now
Who needs umbrella? She needs cutter
And she doesn’t care it’s raining

both I & II were made in October 23rd, 2007

She Doesn’t Care It’s Raining I

It’s when she is waken up in the morning
By the imaginary smell of hot tea
And the Arctic Monkeys’ intro
From the On-All-Night-Long PC

It’s when she puts on her skirt
Oversize tees + Spongebob backpack
And later she realizes it’s her fat day
And bad hair day also

Where is her Vans shoes?
She should go to his house
And steal some Rufio’s tunes,
A kiss and cheese cookies

So after that she can run
To a place where numbers are figured out
To look for some loves
And she doesn’t care it’s raining