Run and hide, hold your breath,
you will not avoid her eyes.
They keep watching, twisting, hurting,
spiked like concertina wires.
Her tongue is made of razorblades,
her word's a terminal.
No matter what you do or say,
you're the criminal.
Troubled once, forgave twice,
everyone still loves her lies.
As much as we try not to bother,
she's a swarm of buzzing flies.
The forest and the sea
are my company.
Both smell so good and help to forget
how sweet is the scent of cinnamon.
I run, trip, fall and get up
don't care how many bruises
does it cost to dispose of
the folly that started blooming
I trample it down to the ground,
poison with sweat and tears,
the mud won't let it grow any stronger.
Run and run and all I see
is cinnamon mess
all over the field
seasoned by sweet ignorance,
slipping through my fingers.
Run and run, each step echoes
"I'm just a leech in a jar to you"
As painful as it gets, my legs keep running
I do the things I hate
and hate the things I do
She, feeling all tired and lousy
was hoping for something a bit more juicy
than chips, cider and snacks.
Maybe a good slice of real man would be nice,
take a few bites
until he screams.
But who would she be to do this?
Now, bring some spice
this day is slowly losing flavour.
So someone, do a favour! And oh, here it comes
"Just pass it on till someone wants it"
"Oh thanks, I'll keep it for a while!"
And suddenly a smile lights up her cheeks.
Now in the sunny season
who needs a reason
to season their mind.
Yet the hunger strikes again
and here comes the gentleman
to save today's glory
with crumbled Belgian waffles
and a bowl of guacamol
Leaving the office, counting umbrellas,
wondering which one is mine.
They are all black,
why bother, why bother...
I pick the blackest one!
This isn't just a drizzle,
this is serious chilly rain,
why does it pour, why oh why,
the sky is mocking me today.
With my flip-flops on
and the most sunny dress
this awful weather,
who's it trying to impress?!
Not me, not me,
the sky is crying,
bidding farewell to summer,
firing the Sun,
employing the clouds,
which one will be the grayest?
I don't care,
just slip past that one,
but no,
it keeps pouring,
Vltava is roaring!
Run!
And run,
and all of a sudden,
raindrops apologize
to the Sun
Run and hide, hold your breath,
you will not avoid her eyes.
They keep watching, twisting, hurting,
spiked like concertina wires.
Her tongue is made of razorblades,
her word's a terminal.
No matter what you do or say,
you're the criminal.
Troubled once, forgave twice,
everyone still loves her lies.
As much as we try not to bother,
she's a swarm of buzzing flies.
The forest and the sea
are my company.
Both smell so good and help to forget
how sweet is the scent of cinnamon.
I run, trip, fall and get up
don't care how many bruises
does it cost to dispose of
the folly that started blooming
I trample it down to the ground,
poison with sweat and tears,
the mud won't let it grow any stronger.
Run and run and all I see
is cinnamon mess
all over the field
seasoned by sweet ignorance,
slipping through my fingers.
Run and run, each step echoes
"I'm just a leech in a jar to you"
As painful as it gets, my legs keep running
I do the things I hate
and hate the things I do
She, feeling all tired and lousy
was hoping for something a bit more juicy
than chips, cider and snacks.
Maybe a good slice of real man would be nice,
take a few bites
until he screams.
But who would she be to do this?
Now, bring some spice
this day is slowly losing flavour.
So someone, do a favour! And oh, here it comes
"Just pass it on till someone wants it"
"Oh thanks, I'll keep it for a while!"
And suddenly a smile lights up her cheeks.
Now in the sunny season
who needs a reason
to season their mind.
Yet the hunger strikes again
and here comes the gentleman
to save today's glory
with crumbled Belgian waffles
and a bowl of guacamol
Leaving the office, counting umbrellas,
wondering which one is mine.
They are all black,
why bother, why bother...
I pick the blackest one!
This isn't just a drizzle,
this is serious chilly rain,
why does it pour, why oh why,
the sky is mocking me today.
With my flip-flops on
and the most sunny dress
this awful weather,
who's it trying to impress?!
Not me, not me,
the sky is crying,
bidding farewell to summer,
firing the Sun,
employing the clouds,
which one will be the grayest?
I don't care,
just slip past that one,
but no,
it keeps pouring,
Vltava is roaring!
Run!
And run,
and all of a sudden,
raindrops apologize
to the Sun
The world is a lonely place
When life gets too lonely I log on Ebay
So I hope you’d like to stay
Remember the fateful day?
When I saw you in the window
Of the store with the widows
You looked and smiled at me
I’ve been thinking it all through
But I have to ask you
Can I buy you and keep you so dear?
‘cause you’re my mannequin lady
I’m mannequin crazy
I know, but it’s better than life
When humans are troubled
They tend to turn rubble
And backstab the heart with a knife
The world is a lonely place
I tend to log on Ebay and stay
For hours, maybe, I’d say
Then time just flows away
But I look for doll
She, feeling all tired and lousy
was hoping for something a bit more juicy
than chips, cider and snacks.
Maybe a good slice of real man would be nice,
take a few bites
until he screams.
But who would she be to do this?
Now, bring some spice
this day is slowly losing flavour.
So someone, do a favour! And oh, here it comes
"Just pass it on till someone wants it"
"Oh thanks, I'll keep it for a while!"
And suddenly a smile lights up her cheeks.
Now in the sunny season
who needs a reason
to season their mind.
Yet the hunger strikes again
and here comes the gentleman
to save today's glory
with crumbled Belgian waffles
and a bowl of guacamol
The #Live-Love-Write (https://www.deviantart.com/live-love-write) group here on DA is organizing a project called Synergy. It's based on working in pairs and aiming to help the participants improve their writing skills. I have signed up too, let me introduce my partner :iconbloodawni:
She is very kind and helpful, already gave me some great feedback and ideas. We seem to have a lot in common, Dawni writes mainly poetry, this is one of my favourite pieces in her gallery http://bloodawni.deviantart.com/art/we-are-not-roses-371566902 Check it out!
Dawni has more experience with writing than me, but I will try my best to be a good and helpful partner in this project :)
I didn't ha
Something happened. Confusion, anxiety, disappointment... Not sure how to name it. Worrying is pointless. I won't waste a single line of poetry or a drop of ink on this matter. Being silent has obviously become the new way of saying something's wrong, so.. let's play along and leave it behind.
Thanks to ~AdvocataDiaboli (https://www.deviantart.com/advocatadiaboli), my friend Alex and his music, awesome schoolmates and 5 epic guys who are my virtual companions on the Proving grounds, I am as happy as a girl can be. I owe them all a lot and can't even say how great it is to have all these beautiful, optimistic, strong, supportive people around me :)
I'll try to write or draw someth
I love them...
Wednesday mornings... I love the ritual which developed during the past few weeks :)
Hit the tram like a snowball (always running late), scatter my things all over the floor while pulling out headphones, switch Austra or Stelmanis on, rip 2 pages from my notebook (almost gone by now) and write... and write... and write... Stuck? Turn the page and write... switch to subway and keep writing... :heart:
It's a great time to reflect on the past week and perhaps mark some of it down in verse... Especially now, when everything seems... not great but at least stable and well... well... There's plenty of things to write about :rofl:
Just read your new poems in the middle of the night. After waking from dreams of emotional fights. 4 new poems of different kinds. Your heart explained in every line. I envy your hand that can write first to last. When I can't even start a new chapter from my regretable past. 'Cause your words are passionate. They make me reflect. On what it would take. To move on and forget. I'll always be stuck, but I will take some steps. To write a poem, and post it with no regrets.
(Hope you're doing well at home, I miss your cooking)