Castle

[katana]

i try to climb your worded castle

strain to hold on till i reach that ivory tower.

the rocks are slippery and you've left nothing

for me to grab onto.

i can't find my voice to scream HELP!

ready, to let it all go?

if only there was something waiting.

for the height i have climbed is too low, i fear

if it killed me it would be too quick.

[kulla]

a spin,
perpetually throwing words
against an ocean of formal indifferences.
a well,
that of an eternal absence
waiting if you don't let go. to hell with it!
a castle,
built on the back of slippery snakes
symbolically roaming since the genesis.
a hand,
lent to throw the base in the ground,
or a simpler purpose would be to touch.
a figus,
for an apple is a boring fruit
and I've never seen a figus rot.
all that
and the will to kill the time pill
until real indulgence I will feel.

alright, I agree, this last one doesn't fit, it's too ill. but if that did, this wouldn't. so, you see, the castle is never perfect.

[Henri]

Convinced I must,
not breathe but weep,
As by, you slide in sorrow.
For yet un-touched, untold, un-raped
my heart is but hollow....
You come, you go,
you pause a bit
while mornin' licks the sky
the molded thought, the one that slipped
like heroes, he once died!
You cried, you moaned,
you built a grave,
the deepest of them all,
some feast for worms, a better end
than widow of your soul!

[kulla]

it wouldn't be fair if this wasn't considered as the first poem

A midnight cry for you

I walked on the grass with bare feet.
I felt the pain, the bruises and the broken bones,
The weight of the earth shouted and groaned
With all its creaking trees and birds.

There is a lot of grass in my castle,
A lot of worms in it, but never a snake.
On your breasts I want to put one,
And the rest of the world, on my head.

The grass is burning in the darkness,
The fire dances and the night is painted orange.

[kulla]

and if that's not enough and fair,
I'll ruin the castles of my words.
I'll crumble them to dust and hair
that settle after bloody swords.

in their place I'll build you a bed,
or feathers I'll lay to break your fall.
and the obvious shall be left unsaid,
rather a cry than a haunting call.

if all my castles I turned to ground,
I ask, how would you believe me?
the fire keeps licking me around,
O sweet smoke, dance with me.

[katana]

grass grows on my breasts

has covered hills and the rest.

dry grass grows in the darkness

while I lie lifeless.


don't know how i had forgotten this little bit.

[kulla]

last night I had a dream of a castle and a photograf. there was no plot in the dream. just two seperate images, one of a castle, one of a picture. the castle looked dark and scary. it looked like it was dificult to take, (had there ever been, or ever will be an atack on it), yet easy to crumble, like it was a sand castle that two little kids are bulding. I've never seen the castle of rozafa, but it was like I imagine it and the picture, that sometimes looked like it was hanging on the walls of the castle, was the picture of a man. you could tell he was albanian by the shape of his head. a beautiful albanian male posing for god knows who, that's what it was. and he was so beautiful, that I had a vision, a stupid vision, not at all based on anything, for beauty is of chaos, a vision, like this male was the ethalon of beautiful males in whatever dimension or time (past or future) the picture was taken.

now that I think of it, I have sacrificed myself for all my castles, never forgetting that I have sacrificed all my castles for you.