Riches go up
Creating a wall around their world
Brought up to defend them
From the time passing outside

Coin after coin
Falling with a sound
Of years spend on work
Finally, there’s time to use it

Yet that is the true enemy
That no money can fight
It passes outside their dome
But it also sneaks inside

We often think that death
Is their only judge
They only fear the end
For it is certain

Not the end is terrific
But all of these free times
They can spend on thinking
About time, reason, faith

There is a place to judge
All their choices laid before them
Every mistake left to
convalescence

Work and business
Can be the best distractions
From the on-coming
Heath death of the universe

It is easier to ignore it
To chase the bunny
To reach for the apple
But never eat it

In every writer’s work
There is soul
A part of them
Left to live forever

We can learn about them
More even than
What they’re writing about
The truth hidden between the lines

We are all that happened
To us
Next to us
All our thoughts
Reflecting history

Too clearly, we notice
Traumas and loses
Contained in words
Misused and avoided

You read Plato
And think how he treats a body
Like a cage and an enemy
Finds his salvation in a mind and ideas

You read Kierkegaard
And feel his terror
Camus and his dissociation
Being here but not being HERE

You read stories from Auschwitz
Written like a description of a macabre
Like a painting seen in a gallery
Like the witness wasn’t even there

You read philosophers, poets, victims
You wander what they went through
While you event can’t remember
What happened to you that year

A circle is beautiful
A round way of life
Continuation of schematics
Ime after time

Being stuck in it
Making those same mistakes
Not even seeing the irony
Of never reaching the end

Life and death
One after another
We sure continue the circle
Giving birth to the next generation

Why should we
The ones who know this pain
Bring others
To suffer with us

We don’t teach them
To be different
To learn from us
To live better

No, we make sure
They follow our footsteps
Show them the only way
Of completing the circle

We often say
That all is the same
The different it gets

How else can it be?
If we don’t teach

If the rules are universal
Sure, as the stars above
Perfect and given
Ready to be read

Then all those cruelties
Make no sense
Have no purpose
Other than breaking the rules

Philosophy assures us
That we all have it
The ability to be good
To know the rules

But tell that
To a victim
Waiting to be rescued
Praying for that day of illumination

Those sets of rules

Known to us all Don’t seem very binding
When push comes to shove

In the middle of the battlefield
There is no place for divine rules
If you want to survive
In this all-going antimony of life

How can it be different?
In a place where
Theory and ideals
Meet in flames

The stars shine on
The bodies lay still
The soldiers, the children
A feast for crows

It’s a cruel gift
Giving self-awareness
To something finite
To a human child

According to science
A two-year-old knows
They’re not a part of the world
They are their own self

The thing is
Just an organism made of two cells
Is affected by its mother
Her food, work, poison

Yet it just exists
Chemicals coursing around
Not knowing the pain
Of reactions and extractions

Then after birth
Two years in a limbo
Most important years
We don’t remember

The synapses created
Action-reaction learned
You have to fight through
You realise you ARE

Self-awareness is a course
Of finding out
That we have a beginning
But also, an end

Words keep falling
Bouncing from the walls
You open your mouth
And let them flow

You are like a machine
Put a coin in
You move your mouth
Making sound

You want to be smart
You think you are smart
Like intelligence and age
Always go in pair

But really, it’s not you
We all hope to be smart
Yet some of us
Only exist if others see us

God help me
I don’t want to be your witness
I can hear the emptiness
behind the chatter

I can see your followers
Nodding their heads
As you spit and scream
Oh, how I pity them

Dear fallen idol
You are empty inside
With only sound
Keeping you alive

Look at your creation
The gold of daffodils
The whiteness of bones
The blue of the sky

A garden you made
With brown rocks laid
By a vast lake
With sunshine reflected
By a peaceful surface

You know every flower
Every tree and sapling
You know when it’ll die
Wither and disappear

You walk over
Fallen branches
Animals’ houses
Quiet steps of a giant

They scatter around
Afraid of your gaze
It knows the hour
Of their death

Not even a bird chirp
As you pass by
Hand touching the tall grasses
Tickled by their softness

You sit by the bank
Gazing softly at the water
Waiting for a day’s end
Silence accompanying you
In your Eden

I do not write about love 
I’ve never learnt what it is 
I don’t know the words 
To describe the holiest of feelings 
 
What I know is what it isn’t 
It’s not a black hole 
That doesn’t let you escape 
Crashes you when you get too close 
 
Love is not bitten lips 
When you want to ask why 
When you want to oppose 
When you keep yourself from screaming 
 
True love doesn’t teach how to 
Lie to those around you 
Cry in silence 
Keep your door open at night 
 
So, I write about tragedies 
To warn all those who will teach 
That even best intentions 
Can lead only to misery 

Each of your thoughts echo 
Inside your head 
They come back to you  
With every breath 
 
You try to run from them 
Hide behind distractions 
But to no veil 
You cannot outrun yourself 
 
So, you decide to let them out 
To give them voice 
Maybe they will stop their torment 
If they torture someone else 
 
But it’s not good  
You no longer only hurt yourself 
But those around too 
You have to run again 
 
But there is a way 
Give them pen and paper 
Words may be ugly,  
But you don’t have to sign under them 
 
You let them all out 
It feels like purification 
Like poison getting out 
So, you can finally heal 
 
Because healing isn’t pretty 
It’s long and complicated 
But when you’re no longer scared 
You will see its worth 
 

The world doesn’t want to pressure you, 
It’s just that’s the only way to survive, 
This world doesn’t want to sniffle out your fire, 
But there are rules we all have to follow, 
This world doesn’t want to use you, 
It’s the bad people you hear about on the TV. 
 
Good people want to bring creativity to school, 
But only if you have enough money to attend it, 
Good people want to give food to the hungry, 
As they have too much of it, 
Good people want to fight child labour, 
It’s just that finding someone to accuse is complicated. 
 
And you try every day to be yourself, 
Just a little bit, so you don’t offend anyone, 
You look over your shoulder at night, 
So, these tv villains don’t become your reality, 
You know some of them, were friends with them, 
You’ve seen good people’s companies turn them bad. 
 
And when you see them on the TV you start to wonder, 
Whose fault is it, 
Are the children to blame for a place of birth? 
Or a mother left alone to tend for them? 
A man smiles to you from a screen 
Is he a villain or a hero?