To a little gypsy boy

You’ve betrayed your freedom when you raised that flag
thousands of years unshakable freedom of gypsies
Proud you should be:
for no flag is flag of your wild spirit
free of sins committed in the name of.
Proud you should be, little gypsy boy,
of you independent essence,
of music! naturally flowing through your veins!

Your innocent little hands raised it
with a joyful gleam in your dark eyes.
Just for a second – a luck –
that you too can be defined.

Your childish illusion cracked into pieces
fighting for your life
beaten
you’ve learned the true meaning of a flag.

Hate poured onto your helpless body –
every beat of your white little friends
raised by monsters, haters, and killers
killed a piece of your precious little joy

7-year-old murderers of innocence
children of nature’s worst scums
flag being their only shelter
their only importance
7 years old warriors of bloody kingdom

Oh little boy, hear me!
Don’t carry them in your soul,
remember the laughter, the joy!
Don’t give them importance they so badly try to achieve
Get revenge by forgetting!

And sing, please sing,
play with your pain and share it with your voice
hit the drums and dance
barefoot and dirty
Forever defy them with your freedom!

*song is meant as an apology to a little gypsy boy that got beaten by other (white) children when at some event he proudly rose the flag of the country they live in

 

 

Prayer to the Night

The misery of some days
should be forever swollen by the night;
Darkness, melt in the blackness;
our sleep be your escape;

Soul ease your whip;

Oh, mercy of the night,
cover with black our memories
invisible to our conscience be our heartaches;
lift us to the bright colors of your stars
your silence reveal to us a sound of our blood

lay onto our hearts and fill them with your peacefulness,
Invade our head and fill it with your wisdom

We wander too much in confusion
Harmonize us with voice of your emptiness

Instead of agony
bring us a dream of comfort –
give us eyes that see the meaning you carry;

Instead of suffering make the sun
execute the love

 

 

 

White phosphorus

Beautiful white Fireworks
unique decoration of child’s body;
live stream of the magic spark of Universe;
accompanied by melody: heavenly bloody

Your sadistic fantasies finally coming true!
Bodies trembling of pain, dick – lifting screaming;
your disgusting mouth waiting for phosphorus barbecue –
our screens showing sociopathic dreaming

You had no mother to give you heart –
your mind was invaded only by monsters;
with no understanding, no compassion, no warmth;
finding other emotional orphans to be your sponsors

Love is what you hate the most;
your biggest fear is freedom;
other than white should be roast;
poor must be eaten by your evil!

Enjoy your Hitlerian dream until it last!
For no longer will we let you burn and devastate!
Like Hitler, you’ll soon be just unwanted chapter of past!
And that will be a moment that will make again America great!

 

 

Institute for Employment

This morning a Man walked in –
Institute for Employment
skinny, pale, gray skin …
embodied lack of enjoyment.

 Walking along the edge of illusion;
by the need to survive he is enslaved;
facing an ultimate exclusion
which when born was already paved.

For years trying to fit in;
to sleep, to eat – the only aspiration;
now faced with counter’s grin,
yet another rejection – no salvation.

Only taking, only prohibiting;
decades of fights and efforts;
all his capabilities crippling;
now faced with counter’s contempt.

Anxious mornings, wild beast in his chest
 nights without sleep, filled with shivering;
nervous, ill, stressed …
now faced with counter’s ignoring.

His mind is handicapped by finding a solution,
his human decency lost long ago;
his body is sold for 2 Eur per hour: pure prostitution;
falling in unstoppable vertigo.

His wish to join into reality of the world –
no longer to be solely bystander;
to escape the destined underworld –
inaccessible with his kind of candor.

Constant riot of right and wrong, good and evil,
violent battle of reality and illusion, truth and lie;
have they made enslavement legal…?
Searching for answers, can anybody reply?

In suburbs and darkness of his days
to wander, to starve, to struggle,
First-row witness of human kindness blase –
free for human predators – free for smuggle.

This morning he filled the office with his rage;
defeated by the life, no longer is he able to cope…
“no longer will I be a slave on a minimum wage!
I am going to die, but also I will bury this lying piece of hope!”

 

 

Jealousy

I live in a depth of your flesh
provoked by beauty, I then obsess
your mind because I want to possess
her skin so tight and look so fresh.

How sophisticated she sounds
she is well educated and elegant
every world is a harmony of intelligent
femme fatale – with no extra pounds.

 Do you think I am blind?
you can lie and pretend that in fact
you are cold and that they don’t attract
you by their legs: I know your mind.

 You’d both be so happy
if we’d all leave you in the room alone;
you are constantly with her on a phone;
if it weren’t for me, you’d be so eased.

 For she is everything I wish to be
tall, fragrant, and charming,
she is full of energy and always active
and so much prettier than me.

 But still, I can’t understand what
you see in this old woman, mother
she could be, besides woman of another,
while jerking on her, did you think about that?

 I see you close your eyes while
we are making love, is that because
you think of that woman which is already in menopause?
The one responsible of your constant smile?

 One thing’s for sure my love
I am not going to tolerate this
and don’t try to say that I am your only miss
You can have that old tramp from above.

 I sit now alone, missing you a lot,
even though you are a total jerk
between such a Casanova and me won’t work,
for me, you are just too smart and too hot.

 I know you gave up your friends and phone
just to prove me I am wrong,
but you still can’t hide your lusty look on their long
shiny naked legs, I just can’t save you from you alone.

 You say I am crazy and sick
well enjoy for now you can have all those magic bodies
but one to love you as I do, among those hotties,
you will never find. And you are a dick.

 

Power of NO

Statistics: knock on 100 doors
and you will receive 99 and half NO’s.

We can go pretend we are nice
but counting on human help is like throwing a dice.
We use this power just because we can
and we kill one’s will before it even began.
Your lives surrounded by nothing by lies
that no longer you recognize honest cries.
Hiding behind icy walls of ignorance and arrogance:
nothing must embarrass your artificial elegance.
Refreshing it must be, gather all your frustrations
and with NO bring it up to unknown strangers.
Eating shit from your boss, so-called friends, and companion,
liberating must be to say no, your passion.
NO gives you importance you want so much,
opportunity to make fun and to judge.
You believe solely to big jumbo posters, to lies,
blinded by television, one in real need beside you dies.
Research  I’ve made about approach to a human,
I’ve learned nothing but that with no reason we are cruel.
That feeling of importance which is given by NO
is more seductive than help, no matter where you go.
If you are unable to advertise your need or your pain,
nothing from highly promoted human kindness you’ll gain.

Cheating poem

We lie here caught by morning
in our memory: a sin of a night;
a phone call- unwanted warning –
what we have done, was not right.

Like a shit I feel, in a stinky sheet ,
where a sweat of our shitness lays,
nasty smell of our cheaty feet –
with guilt colored future days.

I look at you while you are asleep,
thinking it was even not worth it,
to sell my friend’s trust so cheap,
and to again prove myself I am a hypocrit.

But than again, adrenalin I felt
while screwing you, knowin it was wrong –
now I watch you as emotions of guilt melt,
feeling between my legs yet once more strong.

I press myself inbetween your hairy butt
once, two times more, it won’t be bigger sin,
with my friend on my mind is, somewhat,
a game, infact, I’ve always wanted to win.

I ride a victory with your legs inbetween my neck
your mosty toe under my nose,
while as dead fish you lie on your back –
all picture me in a role of crap shows.

Lightining a cigarete, walking down the street,
thinking of how now is too late to prevent,
all my body bathed in stuffy heat,
I know, tomorrow I’ll repeat the night we spent.