Poetry collection

So, my first poetry collection is coming to life. This is for all the sufferings and calamities of personality that I have seen for my 20 years on our beloved Planet Earth.

It is available to purchase from Janus Publishing website, I attach the link below. I also want to thank endlessly Janus for the patience and help.

The collection will appear on amazon on the 24th of August.

If you find my words compelling, let your attention stay fit. I am preparing a second collection in those unfair times of ours.

cover by Sophia Platts-Palmer
cover by Sophia Platts-Palmer

Black Words

The Lucky Strike, first draft

sneak peek 

‘Why are you only talking about mеn?’ the woman suddenly asked me. Victory had a smile on her face and the man looked rather bored as if he had heard it all before.

‘Because only a man can be the greatest inspiration for a woman.’

The woman smiled satisfactory and I felt like I made a right move, being so straightforward.

‘Continue, please.’ She told me calmly.

‘My god, but he was so far away. ‘Oh, darling, what are we to do?’, he spoke after the drink hit his heart and made the doubt come out, word-shaped. It was not love. It was that intellectual attachment, a form of understanding, but it was not love. It was night already and we were sitting in a bar, drinking. It was night already and nobody seemed to have noticed how the day went away.

He was a painter again, I forgot to mention that. As if I was in an inescapable circle. ‘We misbehaved for days and now we need to face the reality in this phase…’ ‘Of our lives’, he knew how to complement me. And sometimes right people meet in the wrong time. Just as often as the right time brings together the wrong type of people. And in those conditions love may be born, just as it may not be. Love is realization, love is born from the dirt, from the uninspiration, from the confusion. Love is holding on through the changes. People are always subject to change and to want that person through the changes is a proof of love. You could not know it before it happens, there is just no way. Before everything else, people are separate pieces of life, different entities. And we change in the course of our travelling through life. Holding onto and wanting to be with the person, perhaps having a reason is what defines one bit of the feeling called love. There are many more, if you are lucky enough to develop it with the person with you.

We both had our other emotions to cure. So we knew, it was not love that was born. It felt so, so good, but it was not love. It was all passion. All and only passion. And I knew that maybe one day, at the end of all the passion, at the place where our bodies lied, I may find something more than what I knew then. And he may also find his darling on the place where the separation dug, deep and slowly. But for now I did not know how I got his kisses on my neck again.

So there I was again, desperately trying to fuck everything out of myself. But it was not working, it was never working, and it will never work. Neither for me nor for anyone else. A body into a body, a mere penetration, an animal into its comfort zone, it never works.

I hope nobody would ever have to see what I saw in that evening. His face, the look. The destructive emotion. The agony of a soul. That was when I told him that I really did not want to be with him. The moon went mad, I swear. Rudely honest. Mad Moon. Half Life. Sleepless hours. Only lights. His look was attack directly on my soul. And he told me I was over so many things, and I said I didn’t care what I am over and who is lying under me anymore. It all had nothing to do with pride, at least not with my type of pride. But, god, his face in that evening. That pretty perfection under the spell of pure desperation…

found on weheartit
found on weheartit

as of now

Maybe someday we could take

our time,

and I could show you this love of mine.

And you could use your words

so fine,

and nothing would leave us blind.

We’ll run on the pavement of clouds,

and lowly we’ll leave our doubts.

And nothing will fool us false.

I want to forever be close.

To you.

But the droplets still leave tracks

on our faces,

This ground is cold and so faithless.

My love – it crumbles and shakes in.

The eyes are not fooling,

now face it.

We walk in the puddles of loss,

so mistaken.

Highly regarded as fading.

And all that we love is of now changing.

Directions are flowing, don’t blame me.

                                                                 June 2015

james flames25

In any case

It’s not really about the ground or the neutral state of consciousness of the mob. In any case many people spend most of their lives thinking about nothing in particular and talking about the same. Many people spend most of their lives imitating love and ignoring the same. Trading love for attention or need and chasing away the same. Care and attention wear the mask of love just like beauty wears the mask of wreck. Love is above. Don’t dirty it with casual words, or imitated feelings and actions. Love is above, don’t lower it to complications. Love is simple.

He, in particular, was always talking about some truths that I had not yet discovered, about some things that it would take me months to realize. Sometimes I was thinking that even he didn’t realize what was he doing. It was just so natural of him to spread truth around.

He, particularly, designed his words with the purest of fire. No matter right or wrong, they were pure. My poetry started loosing its meaning and that was a perfect sign for me of my existential collapse. He could not be compared to anything I ever needed to beware. I was ready to give him every piece of my share, just wanted him to meet me there – where every sound was heard loudly and every word spoken bravely.

I tried evoking love to come to him. He was empty though. Empty but not in the ordinary sense of emptiness. He was empty like a hollow guitar that resonated my every thing, that captured my every sense. So I became part of him, of his insights. Wholeness. Now, we just needed to entail love in that space of ours.

He was empty in another sense as well. He was emptied. Emptied by people who didn’t talk about anything in particular, by people who took words for granted, by people who used actions as weapons, and not as representation of feelings.

I was mad at that, furious at those people. I wanted his hollowness to be filled with the sounds of love.

April 2015

weheartit
weheartit

No one’s ground

No one’s ground, no one’s fault. no one’s decision, no one’s mistake. It’s just the way the world spins and the sun rises. That’s just the way the waves roll and the birds sing. Only if there was someone to hear them, to see them. People occupied, preoccupied, reoccupied, too occupied with the world that is created for them, rather than embracing the world that is given to them. People make what’s given insignificant and keep on striving for achievements that wouldn’t even matter for the generations to come. They push all the natural to the neutral ground, leave it there to not be. And I can easily keep on sharping my words, but it would scarcely change anything. I can easily sharpen my thoughts but would you sharpen yours back?

                                                                                                                                April 2015

The Project Twins
The Project Twins

accidentally chosen

He was like water to me – clear and transparent. I could drink him up in a breath but I didn’t want to. It wasn’t cool. He didn’t deserve to be forgotten so easily afterwards. Nonetheless, it is an interesting world that we are living in – everyone is trying to close their eyes and absolve their sins. But it takes more, so much more.

March 2013

source: http://avantage-ivanovic.tumblr.com/post/89599835474
source: http://avantage-ivanovic.tumblr.com/post/89599835474