Se ofileste trandafirul ala odios. La cata muzica asculta zilnic, n-ar trebui. Ceilalti patru sunt inca boboci. Isi itesc capetele ca niste huligani ochii dupa o gagica buna din statia de autobuz.

               Si ma rog, de ce nu s-ar ofili? Sunt inconjurati de cactusi, care mai au putin si se urca si pe tavan.

               Ce-i aia frumusete? O chestie degradanta, in fond. Parca te si vezi la 60 de ani cu ridurile atarnand pe moaca satula de lume si de tot.

               Trandafirul ala e sexy. Senzual, ca Simona-Nu-Stiu-Care-E-Numele-Ei-De-Familie. De aia detest eu trandafirii.

               Cactusii mei rezista mai bine ca termopanele alea la care le tot face reclama. Se pricep foarte bine la atarnat si ascultat. Nu-mi cer explicatii si nu-mi mor dupa 3 zile. Nu sunt pretentiosi si nu fac galagie.

               Sunt ostili cand le schimb pamantul din ghiveci, dar gingasi cand fac sa-mi dea borsu’ din deget. Ma simt ca Bezmetica din Padurea cu cactusi, cand si-a gaurit destu’ cu fusul (nu fusul orar, spre a fi lamurit).

               Mi-au murit toate animalele de casa. Papagalul a facut diaree si l-am gasit cu burta-n sus sub fotoliu. Cateaua am dus-o la tara, unde i-a mancat gainile bunicii, a fost abandonata, a mancat si gainile oamenilor din comuna alaturata, si a fost impuscata pentru binele comunitatii. Pesti? Am avut destui. In septembrie imi luasem 3 si se bateau. 

              S-au batut pestii mei pana au murit. Or fi avut gripa acvatica, ca sigur n-au avut contact cu capul de porc din frigider, sa faca AH1N1. I-am luat pe rand cu rigla de 30 cm si le-am facut vant pe geam.

             Io mi-i ramane cu balariile mele da cactusi, fara nici un bai. Ori orhidee, irisi sau lalele albe.

                                                                                                         *

           Privirea ei circula pe autostrada norilor din ce in ce mai des. Dar de cele mai multe ori o ia pe stradute laturalnice, cum e cu Calea Lactee. Si de ce-ar fi Calea Lactee doar o straduta? Nu o poate vedea decat noaptea, cand lacatul din jurul gatului ii cade la pamant.

          Isi incalzeste vocea vorbind singura, si cere explicatii. In mare parte, se intreaba de ce i-a fost ingaduit sa aiba o imaginatie atat de vasta, care ii tot provoaca flash-back-uri nedorite, ale unei persoane pe care nu a mai vazut-o de o bucata buna de timp. Daca acele cateva zile, in realitate, nu reprezinta foarte mult, in lumea ei, cateva zile sunt o viata. Si, avand in vedere ca lumea ei isi deschide portile numai noaptea, e fericita ca nu are de suferit mai mult de atat.

         Cu o zi inainte vrusese sa-si piarda memoria un timp. Sa i se mai micsoreze povara. Ca taxele, impozitul si moartea. Durere obligatorie.

         In seara asta, autostrada e foarte aglomerata. Rezoneaza perfect cu gandurile ei inghesuite ca scrumbiile intr-un poloboc. O mustra constiinta. O data ce ai pierdut o sansa, nu mai poti da timpul inapoi. Trebuia sa se impuna, sa insiste. Sa reziste! Sa reziste! Sa reziste… pentru Dumnezeu! Nu sa se dezumfle ca un sufleu la care ai deschis cuptorul la mai putin de 30 de minute de cand l-ai bagat.

        E ca o soseta care si-a pierdut perechea cand a fost bagata la rufele murdare. E curata acum, dar nu mai are nici un folos de una singura. Buna de aruncat. Sau infipta intr-un par si facuta sperietoare.

       Oare ce ar spune daca ar vedea soseta umana cum se uita bulbucat si umed in fundul cerului? S-ar prapadi de ras, cu siguranta.

      Sufleul esuat viseaza sa se intalneasca cu persoana din intamplare, la cafeneaua preferata. Daca se poate, fara martori. Sa se indragosteasca de sufleul-soseta si sa-i comande sampanie. Asta-i univers paralel, soro!

                                                                                                                 **

               A vrut sa mearga sa vada defilarea. Asa se lauda la toata lumea. Dar ea stie mult mai bine ca el se tine de cuvant doar in 50% dintre cazuri. El e chitara, ea e husa care il protejeaza mereu de intemperii si de remarci rautacioase. Botosica de iarna care nu vrea sa recunoasca nici o clipa ca-i e mai bine fara ganduri legate de piciorul pe care-l adaposteste credincioasa.

              Chitara umbla prin librarii. Priveste ore in sir coperti de carti, CD-uri cu The Doors, Jim Morrison, John Lennon si altii. Se delecteaza cu muzica buna. Chitara nu realizeaza cata atentie atrage asupra sa, si in ciuda faptului mai sus mentionat, poate constata cu usurinta ca nu are prea multi tovarasi. “Si ce daca?” spune chitara. “Imi place singuratatea. Pentru mine inseamna libertate si independenta. Iar independenta exista doar la intelectuali” (ceea ce o face pe chitara sa fie atat de mandra). Ce nu stie chitara, este ca in magazinul unde si-a trait traiul si si-a acordat coardele, exista o husa de la aceeasi firma, care impartaseste aceleasi principii. Iar aceasta husa uitata de lume asteapta ziua in care va veni un client ce o va cumpara impreuna cu chitara de care am mai vorbit, astfel incat sa se invecheasca si sa se destrame impreuna pana la adanci batraneti.

                Ea a mai strigat lumii adevarul de vreo doua ori. Dar se pare ca din toata lumea, numai el nu a auzit. A jurat muteste ca n-o mai spune a treia oara. Dar erau inca mici. O sosetica de nou-nascut si o chitara de jucarie pentru copii de pana la 4 ani.

                Peste ani, s-au reincarnat si au evoluat.

                Desi povestea probabil nu are un final fericit, autorul va fi nevoit sa inventeze unul.

                Soseta cu glandele lacrimale inexistente folosite prea des, este o soseta de Craciun acum. In ea se pun cadouri pentru plod. Traieste alaturi de chitara care colinda in fiecare an, in fata caminului, langa brad, sau in dulap, la pastrare. Pentru totdeauna.

Am sovait ce-am sovait si pana la urma m-am hotarat sa va impartasesc si voua cam ce fel de persoane salasuiesc pe wireclub, ca tot am adus vorba

Iata produsul imaginatiei a mai multor membri talentati ai acestui wireclub (normal ca au cotizat aici in jur de vreo 40-50 de persoane, m-am bagat si eu in discutie pe acolo pe la sfarsit… totusi thread-ul e inca deschis si prospera ) ) 

    O sa va rog sa scuzati cine stie ce greseli de pronuntie, am dat doar copy paste ^_^

Btw: Disclaimer! I do not own all these lyrics. It’s not a crime to go copy-pasting and then explaining yourself. No hard feelings, okay? I even censored those.

This loneliness is making my life feel so empty

sometimes i wish i could just lay down and cry

sometimes i wish i would die

Every night seems darker and colder

everyday i grow older and older

with nothing but age to show for it

sit here and ponder on the better times i’ve had…

Thinking why life’ treating me so bad

And I think about driving off a cliff

Then my friends bring a little light to my life

to give me a little lift

But soon, the attempts fail,
and we all just…
fall.

Deeper and deeper
into the darkness of our minds

where all our troubles spiral and unwind

where the meaningless of life gnaws at the house of sanity

looking in the mirror only reveals vanity…

and the grim reaper Death lurks around the corner

Ready to strike and erase your fear

so i go to the fridge for an ice cold beer

and i wonder why i have beer cuz i’m on pills

Giving me these unworldly thrills

I pray for a doorway, a bright turn in the path.

Give me an option, a way to get back

Because, I am lost for no reason and ravaging disarray.
So, please direct me towards the morgue. I need a good place to rest.

 Though, resting, will not put me at ease,

It’s this endless struggle to search for meaning..

when was my smile last truly beaming?

when was i last not silently screaming

with the world the way it is how can i go on dreaming?

When Im only left with the scarred thoughts,
of dreams failing to turn into a perfect reality,
When reality, refused to become a dream

It’s time to give thanks for what I have – it would seem!

But more effort givin into apologies,
Everyone regrets something.

can’t we all stop the madness of this whole thing

Because stopping it,
would kill everything.

the demon sits on my shoulder whispering these harmful things…
where did the good angel go???

And do I really want it back?
Im tired of being oh so predictable.

Now you can see,
the truest of all my faces.
My masks are gone.

I’m living in spaces

Until aliens come from outer space

staring at us in the face

this whole human race

where the f*ck is my dad?

he is much more important, than I,
As everything, usually is.

say good bye and blow a kiss

until the humans no longer exists..

because aliens cause all this

It’s the end I may miss

And eternity will fail to come,
Waiting, just extends the time,
Its here when we least expect it

We’ll all fall into a black pit

the world,
oh how it swallows us whole

for it is us in our peace
for whom the bell tolls

somehow we manage with our misery.

but it all runs in the family

so true what we’ll become and what we will be

will we become all the things we see?

never’ shouts the hidden strength from somewhere within

why are we torured for this evil sin

The sin,oh the sin at which we begin

our mothers and fathers with pedigreed grins

to oust our belief of love being grand
and finding the humbleness right in our hands

But we always let it shatter,
We cant keep anything as a whole.

the lies we keep telling…
when will the truth be told

When will you let go…
Because, I have waited patiently in Satan’s room….

The firey room,
Yet, Im freezing cold

the loneliness within my mind
my thoughts, my actions, there is no rewind

I cant unravel,
Im longing to be something else

Low with feet on bottom shelf

Patience is thinning.
Dont look away.

open your eyes and fly away

Fly high to realize a new day
A new horizon full of opportunity

Opportunities that will fail,
My faith in myself,
is fading.

Fading to nothing,
fading to darkness,
to an emptiness i can’t cope with

As if I’ve created a new disease,

I’ve found it in myself,
I cannot name it,
So it is still unknown,
But its spreading.

Its spreading through cities and ocean front hills,
its knocking on doors for the healthy and ill
“bring out you’re dead” the wind whistles aloud
but the wandering whistle is less than profound
when you come to that moment when a shiver is felt
and you realize that living is loving yourself.

But when you’ve grown to hate,
Everything about yourself,
Its a little closer to impossible,
So I’m trying,
I will fight this.

i WILL fight this!!!

I will fight this and live in bliss
No matter what anyone tells me I know this!
Feeling, cool, clean, calm and crisp
Until my mind ultimately freezes
And hypothermia and other such diseases
Creep through my body till my nonreligious mind cries for Jesus
And nothing answers creating the emotion of pissed
The realization counting on anyone but myself is ridiculous
For myself alone can do anything that I wish!

So f*ck the rest I don’t need to strive to be the best
I am who I am and will love myself till the end of my sesh
The creation and damnation of this life conquest
But I will live every single breath

because giving up isn’t easy,
it’s only more of a challenge,
when the hate becomes love for the hate,
our self-love finds it’s revenge

Within the gauge of times plague
Tarry with vigour
Without walls or second rate
Muse or mystic figure

However, it sounds immature..

But, its the love that makes the difference

And the past can be a reference..

the future that has to come…

we all have to wait for someone

That will lie, cheat and kill…

Heavy to carry and easy to unload.. The cement block is your best hope…

Let’s murder love,
Erase it from this reality

but maybe its just a possibility

and may turn out to be infinity..

it just goes on and on

we’ll never know where we belong

in our hearts and minds we know the truth
love is the greatest gift this world can offer
causes hearts to break and dreams to shatter
but finds you again in the dark of night

where the place and the timing is just right..

until you relent
And fall back from this phase
Finding that love is a menacing maze
A four letter word you use to abuse
Using it loosely to control and confuse
You know with your heart,mind,body and soul
That loving someone just means
letting go

this is why I drink, someone buy me a hoe

and then, you should get low..

No place to go,
No where to hide,
We all yearn for these feelings to subside.

so raise your glasses
and shake your A*ses
Its F*uckin* thanksgiving
Celebrate by the masses

Celebrate the inequities of the stupidity.

Celebrate the w*hore that dressed to be blessed.
She only seeks the queen’s attention…

So, she cut her wrist and bled to death…

the boots of leather gave off the sent of pleasure

The pleasure that smelt of death
This is are last breath
And beneath the thousand pound fist we rise
sending ash into the air
We are the dead to the undead
and when the blood flys like rose peddals
We
remove all sin
…Removing all skin

 I win win win

but from where does it begin?

seems like a century ago
weve been combining our efforts
racking our brains
to put down something clever

With all of this wisdom
That I digest
The experiment follies
and i digress

So I propose a new plan
And stop following this thread
As I pull out my scissors
My input is dead

She calls out to the man on the street,
He can see she s been crying,
She s got blisters on the soles of her feet,
She can t walk but she s trying.

As I put forth my effort
To pull away, I do try
I can’t leave such a thing
I’m afraid this will run dry
So here I shall stay
And watch over you
Make this poem last
ummmmm…achooo?

But the aliens starts to invade the earth

and put a log on the hearth

And at last i will tremble
with sorrow in word
and neglect what i dismembered
and deem it absurd.

So humble am I
I wont say any words
To deem said above
any thing but absurd

nothing is absurd about alien invasion
better prepare, you humans
as aliens will achieve complete domination!

Hey, I wouldn’t mind
being probed by a green man
It could be an experience
like a visit to japan

Or maybe a restaurant
I cannot afford
Oh no,just forget it
Time’s up,cut the cord.

well here it all ends
the epic unfolded
our combined efforts
you better behold it

wait,don’t stop this
I have more to add
And I hope that babexxx won’t be too mad
but i found this thing fun,trying and pure
to just walk away from these beautiful words
I made some new friends by doing this poem
and suffice it to say I’m glad I now know them

how very kind of you dear
to utter these things
your right, and it’s true
our efforts have meanings

Shall we continue?
as I hold out my hand
we’ll continue this journy
untill we get banned (:

Palms start sweating and pupils dilate.
I passionately slap you across the face.

Let’s sit here and rest.. Share a syringe and caress..

oh, madcapo
say it isn’t true
If I wanted aids badly
I’d just have s*x with you

But I’m not that crazy
and your no so lucky
because personally…
I find you a bit yucky

hahahahha now this is just getting funny

oh you think so matty?
was that your line?
a sentence? thats all?
it doesn’t even ryhme

you just wait
assuming my facts
people will protest
and I’ll say ‘kiss my as*’

A presumption is the cause of your destruction…
You quarrel with useless meaningless things…
Aids I have not! / Hate I have a lot…
Nothing more reserved I have for babe_xxx…. In all kindness I seek to avenge my name….

I have sent my ninja squad in hunt for medusa…

your words leave me stunned
as if then needed to be deciphered
watch out medusa, watch out!
this guys gonna have you snipered

Whats with the violence?
Theres no war to be sharing
capo and babe?
aren’t friends meant for caring?
I know that was cheap and I should be ashamed
but why blame the blamers when blaming is blamed?

I sigh in relief
I sigh in dismay
I sigh, oh I sigh
should I be the one blamed?

I told you last Monday ….your naughty but nice,
Give up the videos and put things on ice,
And remember this deeply …and place clear in your head.
Wipe up the the cake crumbs and get off to bed.

why do you insist
on sending me away?
I enjoy my time here
And have something to say

I may still be young
but I use up grey matter
I don’t mean to boast
but I provide you with laughter

These melancholic feelings follow me into the night

I need someone to hold me, for I easily fright

Quick hold me now as day turns to night

Thats what I just said…
Can you not read?
I’m sorry, I’m sorry
sarcasm’s what I bleed

but sometimes, mystery is what we need..
aliens are growing like weed
wonder what did they feed

What is a need?
And what is a want?
Do we want what we need?
Or do we need what we want?

we dream of all these crazy things
but none of them come true
we make wishes on stars
what are we supposed to do?

Should we abide
by some kind of law
or go without meaning
open and flawed

what we do & what we feel
the whole world turns, seems so reel,
stuck in with the same routine all day long
the very same day ,and night.. all along!!

And as she trys to break the silence,
I remember the vision from my dreams.
Forget, dear child, don’t dare believe,
For nothing’s really what it seems.

I’ve patiently read this whole thing out loud,

A tutti-frutti pie baked by this outstanding crowd,

And my voice is slowly fading away,

Words in my mind still sounding okay..

But wondering how far, to what extent

Will this poem really come to an end?

  Mai sa fie, deja seamana cu o piesa de teatru.   Astept o continuare

Astazi am ales un subiect mai general, sarbatorile si anume sarbatorile de iarna. Ideea a pornit de la un filmulet vazut in urma cu cativa ani, de care mi-am adus aminte cu placere. (mai uitati-va si voi de sarbatori pe la tv, ca gasiti tot felul de filmulete din astea simpatice din care mai invatati cate ceva)

        Let’s begin with the Christmas food& Co. Pai s-o luam asa. Toti asteapta Craciunul ca sa calareasca/taie porcu’ apoi sa bage fripturi si sorici in ei pana le crapa stomacurile micsorate in timpul verii din pricina curei stricte de slabire. Pai la ce rost sa te indopi ca un caine nemancat daca la vara tot o sa trebuiasca sa slabesti? Unde a ajuns asa-numita “magie” a sarbatorilor? In burta.  Pai mah nene, zau daca mai are vreo logica. Saracu’ purcel ucis cu iataganul de Ignat a murit degeaba, ca dupa ce boierii mananca carne de porc si sarmalute in foi de varza cu mamaliguta, apoi baga in ei ca spartii si cozonac, fructe si alte dulciuri (ca asa-i traditia de Craciun, sa inghiti bomboane de pom pana faci spume la gura si mori), se pomenesc ca ii apuca stomacul si isi petrec toata seara cu capul in wc, ca a doua zi sa alerge disperati la toate farmaciile inchise (ca doar nu vreti sa lucreze oamenii si in ziua de Craciun), sa caute smecta si colebil. Si cand nu gasesc, singura alternativa este sa se incarcereze in baie pana scapa de tot ce au mancat… (si mai zicem de americani ca ei mananca mult si sunt grasi ca aia cu probleme la tiroida)   

           Cu bautura ce sa mai zicem… Hai sa ne imbatam ca porcii, ca doar a venit Craciunul si se supara Domnul daca nu spargem cateva sticle goale de sampanie in crestetul nevestei dupa ce am consumat alcool de toate sortimentele. Merita mentionata si treaba cu manelele la maxim, subwoofer de dvd performant la vecinul de deasupra. (De la Salam pentru toata alimentara, o ploaie de parizer, fara numar, fara serie, fara buletin! live from periferie) Apoi Jaga Jaga si muzica populara de prost gust cat cuprinde, de parca avem lautari in bloc. Si colindatorii care vin si dau din gura pe un odios “domn domn sa-naltam” pe care si un copilas de clasa a treia putea sa-l cante mai frumos, ca in final sa se astepte sa li se dea milioane, ca au cantat live (si ce mai talent… ca majoritatea sunt manelisti care vor sa stranga bani pentru un cd cu gusha-gutza ala) -nu zic ca nu e frumos sa pleci cu colindul, pentru ca si noi am fost mici si ne duceam , dar PEOPLE! aveti putin respect de sine si nu mergeti cu vocile alea de…lupi urlatori, colinde jalnice si pretentii – o sa fiti huiduiti mai mult ca sigur (din proprie experienta au venit si la mine in bloc colindatori – ce-i drept, cu trei saptamani inainte de Craciun, ca le e frica sa nu vina ultimii si sa nu le mai deschida “astia cu usi bengoase”- si rageau la propriu un amarat de colind banal ca o cafea bauta dimineata (ma tineam de burta si radeam lipita de usa, ma intrebam da baietii aia nu le e asa rusine sa vina sa “cante” cu vocile acelea cristaline de pestera?) 

           Cadouri, cat cuprinde. Nici nu se pune problema sa nu primeasca pustiul razgaiat camionul ala urias din Mall pe care il cere disperat de la Mos Craciun prin scrisori de amenintare lasate sub bradul facut cu o luna inainte (ca deh, incep pregatirile). Ma intreb, parintii plodului ce primesc de la Mos Craciun? O prima cheltuita pe satisfacerea nevoilor urgente ale copilului si multe multe multe chitante si bonuri ) Exact.

          Cam asta e Craciunul pe la noi prin Romania. Continuam cu Revelionul…

          Revelionul este un fenomen extraordinar daca stam sa ne gandim. Sa vezi maimute care asculta manele, care urla pe strada ca aia din Evul Mediu si arunca petarde in calea oamenilor sau pustani care pun cate o pocnitoare in pungi cu rahat special pregatite pentru vecini (apoi suna la usa) - este absolut uimitor. Ca la meci. Sute de mogaldete care mai de care mai colorate, isi iau suba de iarna si pleaca domne’ catre marele spectacol de sfarsit de an, care are loc in centru si inca unul pe la Romexpo. Deci hai sa ne imbrancim sa ne rupem hainele ca sa sarbatorim impreuna cu o mare masa de idioti, pana la 4 dimineata.

          In sfarsit, dupa ce trec sarbatorile, boierul observa ca s-a ingrasat ca o vita si vine primavara, apoi se pune (ca in fiecare an) pe slabit – ceea ce oricum nu reuseste, ca vine acuma si 1 si 8 Martie, apoi vine si Pastele care trebuie sarbatorit dupa traditie, cu multa mancare, si muzica populara si manele si carne grasa de berbec si miel.

          Cam astea-s sarbatorile de sfarsit de an pe la noi… parerea mea e ca ar trebui s-o lasam mai usor cu traditiile astea ca doar nu ne trazneste daca nu facem curatenie inainte de Craciun sau daca nu avem tort si sampanie nu stiu de care de Anul Nou.  Putin mai organizati si mai economi (ca tot dam bani pe toate prostiile si ne trezim ca nu avem ce face cu ele). Si …cam atat. End of the subject.

Blogul de fata s-a nascut din necesitatea de a avea un loc dragut, online unde sa imi scriu eu frustrarile ciudatele si fara sens. Nu. Ce este defapt un blog? Un loc unde iti impartasesti ganduri poate personale, unde iti exprimi parerea, un loc in care libertatea e cuvantul potrivit, nu un loc in care sa te lauzi cu toate party-urile la care ai fost sau alte dezmaturi povestite cu un ton romantic si visator de parca ar spune “ohh, vremurile de altadata…” ca niste batranei suferinzi de scleroza in placi. Bine, acum sa nu aducem vorba despre acei veveritzoi de gang care isi construiesc astfel de bloguri ca sa isi faca publicitate si bineinteles sa tina discutii moralistice despre… sex sau manele. Sau aspirante la titlul de goth-chick care asculta Chris Brown si Jmp si care iau cu asalt toate hosturile de bloguri, creand in final ceva in gen bling-bling* care ne agreseaza ochii si fac pozee *giggles*batting eyelashes* cu un layout foarte *sparkling* punand accent pe roz si negru. De ce sunt preocupata eu de asta? Pentru ca am ajuns la concluzia ca trei sferturi dintre aceste minunate creatii “bine gandite” sunt niste aberatii. Unu, pentru ca internetul e in voga inca de la frageda varsta de 5, 6 anisori, iar odorul mamei scump se tot joaca la calculator, accesand inconstient numeroase siteuri pornografice sau cu subiect care aduce vorba de violenta, droguri sau alti termeni care nu ar trebui sa fie cunoscuti de copii de gradinita, apoi cel de 10 ani vine si le da peste nas la toti colegii, spunand ca e hacker si ca dovada, se inregistreaza pe bloguri, lasand siteul creat sa fie *trash-uit* de saracul host, apoi ajutat de fratele lui mai mare, tocilar si mare expert in calculatoare, sparge parola unui coleg si scrie cine stie ce anarhii pe acolo pe la status, apoi in final este considerat un geniu al tehnologiei.  Nu. Nici asta. Ca sa iti faci un amarat de blog in care sa iti zici si tu parerea aiurea nu iti trebuie prea mult.

         Dar nu luati in seama spiritul insignificativ din mine. La urma urmei, traim in Romania, unde instinctul de turma si parerea majoritatii triumfa…