in a strange way,
things are getting interesting,
back to normal.

I had big feelings,
And so I wrote a short poem,
Now I 'm completely exhausted.

the poetry is based on three concepts:
darkness, silence and tenderness,
linked to an occasional ***.

Do you love me?
- Oh, I'm so excited about you!
- Ermm... I'd like you love me as well.
- How exciting!

In this world
You have to be told,
So goes an anonymous telling.

The king is dead,
The queen is still quite pretty,
And not the other way around.

The book "My experiences"
Is based on my experiences
During my writing this book.

Dali's landscapes are bare facts,
Mapped and signed off,
Swapping each other's colours.

Letters are drunk,
Anagrams are sneaking in,
Commas are scared to death.

I won't change.
I'm squeezed between two eternities, what's to change?

Words in a good poem must be friends with each other.
Through an occasional stroke of genius, they become friends with benefits.

In a few weeks
The first autumn rains
Will hit window pains.

I have only one pain -
Wrong place, wrong time,
The right thing to do,
And don't complain.

Don't be sad, be mad,
It's better for you,
And the others don't care either way.

In unlikely event,
That you like me,
Like me more.

Now, I would like to shift the blame from me
To somebody else
Inside of myself.

There is only one life
And so much things to get it wrong,
But do it right.

What a stupid year,
Oh dear, what a stupid year,
Nothing properly works, only few things are fair,
I'm longing to wake up in some other year.

in the next room they are crying,
I close my eyes and I know then,
that it's me in the next room.

I don't mind,
Unless I think.

In my dreams,
I wanted to make you happy,
And you were happy,
In your dreams.

Neanderthals went,
they are smiling and waiting.
it is time, let's go.

If nihilism is to be believed,
There is a lot of nothing.

Don't worry,
As each ghost story
Has a fairy lining in it.

An occasional ***
Could be a nice occasion
For a lot of else.

Once, just in one go,
I invented a time mashine, and forgot about it,
Time flows, you know.

Take a stone and throw it into your future,
Let it fly through the years,
And, who knows, maybe even decades or centuries,
As our medical coverage is getting so much better,
Come to think of it, let it for ever fly.

that is autumn,
and that is rain,
that is autumn and rain again.

An occasional scream is quite helpful,
To concentrate on thing,
To keep curious children busy elsewhere.

It's beyond weird,
It's back to just stupid.

I am feeling,
That I shouldn't think too much
About my feelings.

I will be a good person
In a perfect world of other good persons,
And then I will wake up to the real world, but I will forget,
How to not be a good person.

hell are the others,
who inhabit you.

Waiting for a better day,
Waiting for the month of May,
Waiting to return and stay.

A pale blue sky
Is always mine,
It will be my sky,
Forever.

At the corner of the street was a shop,
First it was a huge success, then a flop,
I don't know, why it went such a way,
But my life is such a shop, and I stay.

What do you mean
By asking what do I mean
By saying that it doesn't mean anything?

Be something nice, but something real,
Without a danger of upheaval,
An arctic fox would do.

It is not easy to say
Something safe and witty
To somebody so pretty.

A pause, a silence,
A deafening noise,
Once again, a little pause.

I could have gone to new undiscovered dimensions,
I could have come from these dimensions back,
Instead, I am sitting in my three-dimensional flat,
Killing time and probably running mad.

An inviting look of a toxic fog on your face
Stopped me from a further manifestation
Of my thoughts and feelings.

If I were a pilgrim,
I would go to a theatre,
I would never come back.

My escape from this horrible nightmare prison was all planned out with vivid details.
But then I woke up, and that kind of ruined everything.

"Back to normal " is an optimistic assumption
Of existence of an entity
Under this name.

My personal development projects in the coming times
Are along the lines:
"Just get your **** together".

This really can't be too often stated:
The modern art consists of two parts,
The better one is overlooked,
The other one is overrated.

Being russian or french intellectual
Is highly disturbing,
But could be done.

Responsibilities are killing me,
A lot of things are killing me,
So, that at the end of each day,
I am truly a living miracle.

The crow flies,
Not thinking clearly,
In wide circles,
******* up distances.