born into this

born like this
into this
as the chalk faces smile
as Mrs. Death laughs
as political landscapes dissolve
as the oily fish spit out their oily prey

we are
born like this
into this


into hospitals which are so expensive that it's cheaper to die
into lawyers who charge so much it's cheaper to plead guilty
into a country where the jails are full and the madhouses closed
into a place where the masses elevate fools into rich heroes

born into this
walking and living through this
dying because of this

castrated
debauched
disinherited
because of this

the fingers reach toward an unresponsive god
the fingers reach for the bottle
the pill
the powder

we are born into this sorrowful deadliness
it will be open and unpunished murder in the streets
it will be guns and roving mobs
land will be useless
food will become a diminishing return
nuclear power will be taken over by the many
explosions will continually shake the earth
radiated men will eat the flesh of radiated men
the rotting bodies of men and animals will stink in the dark wind
and there will be the most beautiful silence never heard

born out of that
the sun hidden there
awaiting the next chapter

no money, no property, no laws, no police, no government, no soldiers, no executioners, no prisoners, no schools

I used to occupy myself with these problems when I was younger – when I was fifteen or sixteen. I understood everything then, very clearly . . . that is, as far as the mind permits one to understand things. I was more pure, more disinterested, so to speak. I didn’t have to defend or uphold anything, least of all a system which I never did believe in, not even as a child. I worked out an ideal universe, all on my own. It was very simple: no money, no property, no laws, no police, no government, no soldiers, no executioners, no prisoners, no schools. I eliminated every disturbing and restraining element. Perfect freedom. If was a vacuum – and in it I exploded.
h.m.

stop. rewind. this is not a common post.

Scrisoare de intentie. Intentie de revolutie. Pasnica.
Suntem tineri si nu avem viitor. Sau poate il avem, dar nu aici. Inainte de a pleca “dincolo” haideti sa venim toti in Piata Universitatii, miercuri, 19 mai, la ora 19.00. Nu ne asteptam la minuni dar putem crea un precedent. Putem sa printam o pagina cu mesajul nostru pentru cei care au condus tara lor, nu a noastra, in ultimii 20 de ani.
Putem putin, dar putem fi multi.

Propuneri mesaje (lista deschisa)

Sunt tanar, caut tara.
Respectati-ne bunicii!
Salariul – drept, nu privilegiu!
Si eu vreau sa am copii!
Platim taxe, vrem viitor.
Peste 5 ani, voi fi tot aici?
Avem o tara, cum o recuperam?
Romania noastra NU e Romania voastra.

AICI.

never tell the truth

to the man who would be king i would say only one thing

las vegas travelers

movie goers

everybody has a name

i'm just looking, i'm not buying

tranquiiiiille :)

the room was empty and the money was gone

too far gone to see the mountain

everything was beautiful and nothing hurt

milk

dig dig dig, it's getting brighter

i'm laughing at you

totofacemiau

to set the world on fire

"a little more happiness, i thought to myself as i listened to him, and he'd become what is called a dangerous man. dangerous because to be permanently happy would be to set the world on fire".

we were lying at the edge of a world in ruins

"we weren't talking, we were simply parking our sexual implements in the free-parking void of anthropoid chewing-gum machines on the edge of a gasoline oasis".

peek-a-boo

today i am small

we're carving out our names

sheila

perfect sheila

the rosy crucifixion

"Nobody can feel better than the man who is completely taken in. To be intelligent may be a boon, but to be completely trusting, gullible to the point of idiocy, to surrender without reservations, is one of the supreme joys of life".

this is my hiding place

round here, we stay up very very late

round here, we're carving out our names,
round here, we all look the same.

close enough to be your ghost

we sat and waited for the sun and whatever there was to come

let's be green, he said, let's eat lemons, let's make love let's write short stories about our lives in the sea.

i was grey and brown. i was dark and dry.

it's a glorious day, he said, the rain pouring down his smile, thunders growing louder than his voice, lightning burning at his face. let's bathe into the rain and sun and whatever there is to come.

i was cold and old, my face making all the bad grimaces, my eyes staring into the distance, my body feeling like a thousand years old.

let's go out and meet people, let's tell them stories, the stories of our lives, let's answer their questions about life and love and whatever there is to come.

i looked and looked into the distance and saw no one. i looked and looked and there was no one. i looked at him and he was not there. i looked and looked and felt i was alone.

i turned my back to him. i silenced. i closed my eyes and closed my mind. i ran.

it's been a while now.

tonight the rain falls like way back. my thoughts haven't moved. not an inch. they sting and ache and bite at me. i am older now. i am grey and brown. darker. colder. i am quiet. i don't see people and i don't answer their questions. i don't look at them. for them, i don't exist, just as, back then, they seemed to me invisible.

i don't cry and i don't see beneath the rain

shut up i am dreaming of places where lovers have wings

you were wrong

today started foggy and dark and fast-paced.
white beautiful building associated with bad feelings.
trees.
branches.
cold.
there's a little green house in front of me, with its little picket fence and a pile of wood for the fire on the side.

waiting for the the day to sun up.

the things you love will destroy you

I am hedgehog

today: messy

we're out looking for astronauts

it's too late to be pessimistic

i wished you would have smiled

i'm sorry i met you darling

i'm sorry i left you

ultima noapte

no buses