transition

can not see the glass ceiling anymore 

transition to reality 

as I seem to need it. 

echoes

echoes of tenderness 

echoes of shared connection 

echoes of something 

imagined

impossible and unreal

but very much desired 

echoes that are lost 

slices of life 

surrender

the closeness I used to feel 

disappears slowly 

into the light of a thousand suns 

that brings my moon into surrender. 

surrender my heart 

to reality and to your implacable will 

surrender to the wind. For the wind will know where to take any feelings left. 

surrender in the light of the moon, 

the only one that shadows my heart. 

first time in my life

first time in my life I see through skin 

first time in my life I wonder about where I am

first time in my life I question my reasoning

I question my feelings 

I question my emotional distance 

I question my truth and my principles 

first time in my life I am in the middle of the sea 

not looking at it from the distance 

but exactly in the middle 

of family life, my duties, motherhood and work 

and what is underneath. 

The uncertainty. 

ipocrizie

avem toti o doza

de ipocrizie. 

care incepe uneori sa usture, ca o zgarietura prea adanca, ce atinge osul. 

a mea se infiripa intre gand si valori 

intre doua parti 

ale sufletului meu. 

pieces to care for

I would care for you 

as my instinct tells me to

my mind tells me to ignore it.  

I would keep you in my arms, although not so sure you would fully fit,

with your head on my arm

and would caress your face and hair 

and would smile at your smile, 

by instinct. 

And sometimes I would give you kefir 

the one I don't approve of

and other times biscuits and wine. 

And maybe sometimes pieces of my heart would stay with you.

tired

when life becomes a little bit too much of of what happens in between. 

tired of all that I need to push to happen

tired. 

pink dress

My first memory is of a pink dress, on my mothers closet. My mother's upset. My little sister in her arms. My mother throws the dress. My grandmother catches it. My mother's mother with her blue eyes and black hair. 

The most beautiful woman in the world, according to my mother. 

If you ask me, my mother will always be the most beautiful woman in the world, with her high neck, her smile, her brown green eyes, with her beautiful long hands. 

My mother's line of beauty runs deep in all mothers in my family, for their daughters and sons. And all of them, one day or another threw away a pink dress. 

Not all pink dresses suit woman in my family. 

rebel smile

days when I almost don't see you

days that theoretically are so busy

days that stay unfinished 

in a single way, 

a single thought that I try to catch in the needle I have in my hair

but it escapes, it builds through the gates of my soul, 

it sunks in the water of my conscience, 

underneath all that I say I want and need. 

it just is. 

A rebel thought that unleashes fire and ice inside my body. 

A rebel thought that arrives back in my mind with a memory of your smile. 

And I cross my arms and I try to think of all I do not like about you. But your smile brought back by a rebel thought somehow makes all of those other thoughts fade. 

Why I like your smile so much? 

because it is the only one that you can not control, that shows a little bit of what is underneath. 

eye corner

I see you with the corner of my eye 

at a table surrounded by your people

but tired, with your eyes red. 

I see you in another city, in Cluj, or in Alba, or maybe in Iasi surrounded by people you like. Making your presence known.

I used to see you more and to like seeing you more in my mind. 

through writings

through writings I give space to something  that will never be the same

through writings I express a little bit of how I see you 

through writings I heal

saudade

finally the earth is moving still 

finally the snow has covered my heart 

and I build a snow angel inside 

my decisions are crowded by others decisions

finally the frontier of my existence is guarded near a lake

the lake I always used to go for a swim in the middle of summer. 

Finally I hope to get better, 

to overcome all that is built in the snow.

Although I know I will miss you deeply. 

thoughts

I find myself worrying about a specific state of mind you might be in.  

I find myself thinking about context 

and changed context. 

I find myself thinking about you in the most uncommon places and times. 

And the fact that your thoughts are not ever coming to meet mine makes me want to take my thoughts back. Unfortunately it does not work like this. It is not a pure act of will. Not only. 

Apocaliptic earth

If apocalypse would come tomorrow 

I would pray and fight for my kids to be

to become in apocalyptic earth 

If apocalypse would come tomorrow I would get high for the first time in my life

If apocalypse would come tomorrow I would travel to the sea and would be there in the sand, near the sea, when it comes. 

If apocalypse would come tomorrow I would get on my knees and would hug my kids and would ask an invisible God to save them. Would ask all my ancestors, would ask invisible and indivisible forces to guard them. 

If apocalypse would come tomorrow I would have only one regret. A most common one. Never kissed by instinct. 

realist that seems negative

what is a negative realist? 

is it a state of mind? 

I always prefer negative realist 

to enthusiasts far fetched 

I always prefer to map the risks 

and to say I would bet on my chances to win

then to go on without knowing what I may loose. 

what makes the world

Once upon a time there was a little boy with a bag filled with love.

One day he carried the bag to his first day in school and got laughed at. Why don't you carry a backpack the other kids asked? What is in this bag? Are you poor? Can't you afford a backpack, like the rest of us?

The boy was raised far away from this kids, he was raised to believe that love and kindness are the way the world is build. 

Leaving from school he trew on the road a little bit of the love he carried inside the bag and did not tell his parents about his day. 

Second day at school the boy asked if it is possible to have with him at school a backpack and his little bag. His parents of course agreed. 

The other kids stoled his backpack and trough it in the back yard of the school, where bigger kids went to smoke. 

He waited for all the kids to be away and recovered his backpack, but in doing so he spilled some more from his bag just there in the backyard.

He went home and for the first time in a long time tears came crawling on his cheeks. 

Next day he decided to put his bag inside the backpack. 

The other kids did not laughed anymore. Some smiled, some left him alone. 

He came back home, but he could not find his bag. He just sat without talking for sometime. 

His mother asked what is the matter. 

His father replied 

-he is adapting, like all little boys need to, or are forced to. 

But don't forget you will always have a bag of love in your mother's embrace, coming back home.

implanted words

you implant a word or maybe an expression 

I take it and I play with it 

with pleasure in my mind 

because it is fun

it is innocent

it is an experiment 

a game of sorts 

I put my full hand on

and I capture it with a smile. 

A game to play. 

Most games I like to play, not only for the win

and with you maybe I would play to win, 

or maybe just to have fun. 

ravasitul oilor

ravasitul oilor coborate din deal 

ravasitul oilor nechemate la timp

suspinul mieilor la apus

ciobani care schimba topoare 

ciobani care se regasesc in munte

in diverse culori si multiple popoare 

ravasitul oilor intr-un tipat in cor 

ravasitul oilor simfonia perfecta de amor 

neterminat in fan. 

 

blue soul

when I look in your blue soul 

I see the sea, the lands of your ancestors rising to war, the little universe that becomes more every single day, with the sun rising higher every other day. 

when I look in your blue soul

my heart trembles 

so I will look away for some time 

new born mother

becoming a mother overrides all other aspects of life. 

becoming in motherhood is learning to not know for sure, 

but trust your most basic instincts 

trust that one cry means I am hungry, that another means I am too tired to fell a sleep, and some others are just to get comfort, as it should be. And trust when you feel something is not ok. 

becoming a mother is doubting yourself every second, at first but never letting clowd your judgement. 

becoming a mother blooms your whole world and puts in a shadow the woman you used to be. As you need to be more, and you know deep inside you already are. You are a mother now. 

becoming in womanhood

in this limerescene I stayed for too long

as it made me feel that sense of joy

the thrill of recognising my body again not as a mother, but as a woman. 

a beautiful, straightforward, smiling woman 

a dreaming woman

a woman that can be and become even for a second 

separate from motherhood. 

silenced beautiful heart

stayed too much in between worlds 

waiting and wondering and dreaming

I have seen the trees at a distance, trees to climb

but never have I run towards them, 

as in the other part of the road I had my heart waiting for another heart to join 

a heart I felt in the distance 

a tall heart, brave and unapologetic one 

that only by sensing at a distance made me stop and contemplate 

as it is a beautiful heart, a silenced heart, a heart filled with desires and a kind loving heart, 

never mine to cherish. 

time to climb the trees. 

unkind words

glowing in the dark 

the words imagined are the ones that hurt the most 

the words your own abis feeds you with

when you think nobody is looking 

coming from a place of invisible structure.

fantasy

finally I take a turn towards normality 

finally I overcome something that kept me still, kept me waiting

finally I start to let go 

of a fantasy I cared deeply about

but still a fantasy in itself. 

nothing else to say

my tremble hands 

my tremble voice  

my mind is telling me 

I need to say goodbye. 

tension

tension i need to depose

tension stuck in my chest

tension that intensifies in your pressence

physical tension I am not used to as my mind is my hardest worked muscle. 

 

 

nothingness

nothingness I know from long time youngest love

nothingness shared on a bench in Cismigiu 

nothingness that seemed at one point something 

lost nothingness. 

misinterpreted

my thoughts are rebels in an empire well guarded. 

Action is the only one that surrenders lack of being.  

Misinterpreted interest. Misunderstood. Nothingness I fell for.

river

If my imagination would be a river 

I would swim in it and somedays I would draw a finish line. 

A fish would glow inside and would travel so far that my imagination would need to stretch to catch it. 

A little rainbow would hug the river 

And I would know my imagination gives too much to too little. 

never rushed

missing our partnership 

missing your thoughts expressed quick

as if it is a buzzer to the thoughts behind, because actually there is always a conclusion, never rushed. Always thought about. Never by coincidence. 

hopes

I used to dance all night and drink juice and play ping pong and laugh and feel the beginings so near to my heart. 

I used to be always smiling and always present. 

I used to take one sip of wine and feel anxious.

I used to dance from my core, not on any rhythm known to man or ape, but to a rhythm I felt in my heart. 

Close to a door I sometimes open to let my hopes out in the sun. 

woman's heart

I touch the sun and the sun wrinkles a little bit 

my heart is near this sun that rest on waves that never move more than I do. 

the waves I love, from the seaside, from the blue and the green and another blue sky. 

When my life will end I will take a moment to think of my sea and of my sun on top of snow hills. 

When my life will end I will have no regrets. 

I am true to myself, even in harder times. 

Many times this honesty does not help me. I would prefer to be sofisticated, but I am not. I would prefer to have the voice of a soprano, but for sure will never happen. I would prefer to take less to my heart and more to my mind.

Sometimes I manage, sometimes my blue and red heart is too excited and sometimes it is too much of a woman's heart. 

Sun and wild side

Strawberry yoghurt with pieces of fruit that smell like wild flowers in spring. 

Daisies and wild roses that live a static life of beauty and grace. I never envy flowers. I never wanted to be one. I prefer to be a motorbike or a submarine or the sun somedays, when it is winter and it has the courage to glow enough to make his presence felt.  

The sun on my skin, touching the waves of my heart. Feeling the wild side, I always try to hide. 

free

I let my thoughts free 

I let this control bee 

I let my life unfold

And I will do as much

as I can 

not to act 

not to expect 

not to portray

talking

I would talk to you, but you never seem  

to want to. 

I would contradict you

but maybe only to make it fun,

and I would seize it with a smile. 

Nothing seems to be normal anymore. 

undomesticated thoughts

a train that never stops

my thoughts that run away like an wild horse 

no way to keep them near 

no way to domesticate them 

discipline I am told it is the way,

for my actions, 

not for my thoughts. 

my thoughts run to you, still. 

rayo de luz

mi pequeno rayo del sol 

que me sonria cada mañana 

y que me dice con su carita llena de luz

aun hoy te amo mas

mama. 

mi pequeno rayo de luz que me hace ser cada dia sin mascas, sin pecados y sin regretos. 

mi pequenito rayo del amor de madre que me da coraje para ser un poco mejor, cada dia. 

distilled imagination

distilled imagination like an whiskey packed in a tetratop box 

living inside for too long

forgeting about the important things

to be fully present in day to day

distilled imagination that needs pouring in writings that will never change the status quo 

and maybe it never should. 

patterns

Colored patterns the aztecs left

my mind when they started to build 

a space of solitude and of pray. 

deep cooked feelings

feelings that will deep dive in a frying pan and at one point will disappear.

feelings that I don't regret, but that give me that uncertainty, that specific uncertainty not for what I know, or who I am, but for what is linked with you. 

feelings that at one point will most probably dissappear under the ashes of desire.

feelings that mostdays I have trouble with accepting and owning 

feelings that one day will be a mark left inside, part of that transformation of my soul to a new phase of existence. 

feelings I renounce almost every day, but they don't leave me. 

feelings that will leave me when it is time, maybe without sensing at first, but slowly.

 

feelings slowly cooked in a pan of curiosity and of desire

batista

O batista care sa stearga toate formele, toate preturile, toate etichetele si toate starile.  O batista care sa impinga toate evantaiele din lume catre centrul pamantului unde gandurile mele alearga care incotro, cu o revolta, cu o senzatie de lipsa catre un vulcan miscator. 

7 minutes

many times I wonder why I need it those 7 minutes? 

why I need it to share a such unshakeable truth, that does not leave room for a question mark? Or for a walk, 

or to my surprise does not leave room for pressence, for nothing else then this 7 minutes. 

But then I remembered

my lack of focus, lack of concentration, lack of sleep, lack of me. 

morning conversation

missing

morning conversations

where your tone of voice 

seemed to rule the world 

seemed to make it better 

more structured and more clear 

missing 

the determination I felt in your voice

the way I always wanted to end the conversation, sooner than I would have need it 

because my heart became too anxious 

missing the anticipation of your calls 

with no other expectations than that to hear your thoughts. Not clearly but how you build them like lego towers made me smile as I knew, I sensed it is rare for you to share. 

missing the way I used to wake up 

first to see my kids, my family is fine.

second to see when and where 9 or almost 9 will catch me.  

image

Tired of all that is said but untrue and pretended and just image portrayed as reality.  Tired. 

lack of judgement

my lack of judgement 

sometimes is extreme 

I don't know where it comes from. 

It comes from emotion, most probably. 

That I will never regret. 

So accepting lack of judgement some days.

naiva

sunt un om naiv

am incredere in oameni

la o intrebare directa o sa raspund mereu 

sincer. Mai ales daca tin la omul din fata mea. 

Chiar daca e o intrebare personala. 

Sunt un om naiv, caci gasesc frumusete in fiecare zi si in fiecare om. 

Silence and machine learning

Silence of the gods 

in an apocalyptic future where machinery and machine learning will ensure a hybrid survival 

The stakes are so high that pretending that nothing but yoghurt or milk exists is the most natural thing to do. 

winery

one day you left in a carousel

and it was raining so hard that the sky become yellow, and the stars were hidden behind the curtains of ice and smoke. 

left for a winery not so far away 

in a carriage filled with people that admire you and most probably some days don't like you. As it is normal. 

 

that night the sky reunited with the God of Thunder. And they danced and sang all night. And my thought was with you. To return well, for you need to be as you are. 

mixed

Controversial feelings. 

Of wanting to be closer, maybe closest and of wanting to not desire anything of sorts. 

Looking to avoid and missing you, when not around. 

stairs

stairs that lead nowhere 

infinite stairs of no infinite evolution 

as it is always the case to go round and round in staircases that have similar traits as you have an infinite labyrinth which exits that have an entrance in the middle of the labyrinth.

Stairs with no consensus, no consequence and no way to finish. 

strained

strained in a personal history 

strained milk that becomes strained yoghurt that gets to be more than simple fermented cultures 

strained in an island of milk and strained people I started to care about. 

maybe

mistakes I have made 

maybe because I sensed where we were going. Silent, but vocal. Intrinsic. 

maybe, most probably I would have enjoyed. but you would have never got to know me, 

not really. Maybe. Will never know. 

nuanced

it seems you can not stand to be close enough to touch my shoulder 

or to look me longer in the eyes

but my feelings, my intuition says something completely different, almost opposite. 

in the end does not matter what it feels like, most probably it is my infinite nuanced imagination. 

pisica rupta in 2

Sa rupem pisica in doua, 

ca intr-un film cu Raskapur si surd si mut. 

in care universul de iaurt se prelinge intr-o stare nici drinkable, nici spoonable. 

in care as rupe si totusi imi e teama sa o rup.  

Space

Space seems better between us. 

Space to grow

Space to make mistakes

Space to explore 

Space to overcome or to become, 

new space to be. 

Space to run to other discussions

Space to occupy 

Space to find each other somewhere

Space for uncertainty 

Space to be vulnerable or to say sorry 

Space that seems uncomfortable

Space to create and to dismiss 

Space even for emoticons

Space that may never be, and that is ok. 

needs

I need to care less. I need to take one or more steps back. I need to let go. 

it seems I can not.

Soft dancing feet

Dancing in a room filled with people 

Looking for your eyes and never finding them. 

Never looking too close. 

As I feel you need distance. As I feel you need to keep away. 

As I need to keep away, but my feet are soft and have a life of their own, when dancing. 

And your leaving without saying goodbye, made my feet dance forever and my eyes red. 

little people of my own

close encounter with making little people become, overcome big emotions, making them feel and understand what and why they seem to feel what they feel. A lot of anger is involved. More than I would like. 

white rose

Many months sinced you asked if I could pick you up. Anyone could pick me up. 

Then you arrived alone with a taxi in a strange city. 

I was wearing something black and a rose in my hair. 

A white rose that I tossed at your feet for my 30 something summers have passed quick. Last  year a white rose was in my heart, but had so many thornes that it need it to be unplacked. 

change

Change of pase 

change of attitude 

change i am afraid of

as I like your voice 

your presence 

your almost always lack of modesty 

your determination

your mind and even the way you get slightly annoyed. 

the way you take a point (a criticism) and you make it into a tennis ball that hits hard the "initial" argument. 

the way you are around me, without masks. 

I like your reality. 

Change I am afraid of. As I like your pressence and your voice and it is something that easily disappears, leaving space only for soulless emoticons. 

your king

Trust is the softest piece of the puzzle 

And I trust you as I would have known you forever. I know your trust comes late. Comes with a comitment and comes as the most important gift, as it is the case for my trust as well - I got your back. I may not agree. I may get annoyed, but when you need me, I always close the bridge of trust. Your king is my king. 

Lied to 

I don't do. Even professionaly. 

false pretenses and false words 

breach of trust, can not make peace with. 

Trust is given in layers. My first layer is my skin. Need to save it from explosion. 

2 inches

Direct and unapologetical conversations that I prefer always to absence or to keeping thoughts back. 

I already know you are 2 inches smarter, but only 2, in a good day. 

Sometimes you lack tact and good will, when you are comfortable enough. 

Because you know you are right. And I know you are. And this annoys me. Challenges me. 

Makes me want to get better 

2 inches better, 2 inches too late. 

Calatorii in pragul diminetii

In Pragul diminetii, m-as preface intr-o pasare sa zbor spre linia infinitului, care ma cheama. Ghinion ca nu imi plac pasarile. Sunt prea aerodinamice pentru gustul meu, imperfect si verde. 

In Pragul diminetii mi-as lua ski-urile si mi-as da drumul de pe un deal al tineretii, sa traiesc fiorul nebun al adrenalinei contextuale. 

In pragul diminetii m-as reduce la un vanticel tomnatic si as zburda pe strazile laturalnice ale celui mai rau famat cartier si as cauta o fetita cu parul tuns scurt pe o bicicleta, mult mai mare decat ea, dar mandra posesoare de vehicul de copii mari. As prinde un viraj la dreapta si as zdruncina'o putin. Iar ea ar rade. 

Si rasul ala l-as recupera si pastra in pragul diminetii. 

La feminin

In par imi port cuvintele ca pe niste stele  aurii.

nestatornice suvite blonde se impletesc cu iarba sub care cresc stelutele din spatele caii lactee. 

Stele de toate formele si de toate culorile imi danseaza la radacini, un dans al femininului, un dans din buric, folosindu-se de un buric de imprumut, un buric cazut la nasterea universului fix din centrul pamantului. 

Big Bang. 

Sau miscarea din maini a unui Dumnezeu absent. 

acceptance

swored in to a life together

best in parenthood 

lacking to see each other

growing apart

 I get to fill this room with presence and for now this is acceptable. 

acceptance is the only way to go on for a while. 

connection

Unexplained and unexpected my soul is linked to yours, a monologue that 

senses a closeness I need to surrender to and to keep away from.  

Recognize the lights, the gentleness, the fire and the tough edges, the power, the guidance, the softness, and sometimes the tremble of your soul. 

As something I have always known. And I am vulnerable. 

Vulnerable enough to give space to my soul to burn if it needs burning, to ignite, to light my world with fire for no finality than the one inside my soul.

And pray to a God I loose every day - show me the path to accept and to walk the best walk I know- the one of knowledge and love and faith.

turcoaz

Turcoaz feelings 

wrapped in a cosy aztecs blanket 

feelings of letting go of what clowds my judgement

feelings of freedom and of acceptance.

The black ink that touched the ground and it made my turcoaz feelings drown in the moving sands of an uncertain future. 

Turcoaz soul sometimes hurts.

poarta dintre lumi

Deschid Portile si alerg pana la fantana. Ma arunc in ea si mai ca ma lovesc de tot ceea ce am zis, ceea ce am deschis si sfarsit totodata. Ma rup de la mijloc. 

Soldurile imi plutesc deasupra celor 2 centimetrii de apa vie, iar umerii si capul s-au blocat sub apa, intr-un mucegai staruitor a tot ceea ce ar fi fost daca. Soldurile se unduiesc. 

Urechile mi se cutremura. 

Ma ridic cu greu. Imi lipesc soldurile de corp si ma catar de-a lungul fantanii. 

La poarta ma asteapta o alta lume. Lumea cuiva drag. Dau sa intru, dar de picior mi se impiedica propria-mi lume. 

No entry for another world. Un semn clar, ignorat, dar agatat pe poarta. 

Cineva imi arata piciorul drept. Zambesc spre acel punct. 

Imi mangai lumea, ca pe un terrier un pic suparat de o pisica neagra zarita de cealalta parte a portii. 

a voice from a different world

Your voice when upset hurts my ears for it is a voice of the thousand nights of silence. It is the voice that keeps its dissapointment in line, but still manages to awaken a little self doubt. Your voice that has no rulling, but still makes me weaker at heart, never in spirit. 

Rogvaiv

Linia infinitului e plina de nuante. 

Linia vietii e plina de alb si gri si mult albastru. 

Linia pe care mi-am dorit-o mereu, cea mai imperfecta linie din lume pe care spiridusii se arunca si se dau pe derdelusul ei, intr-o siguranta incerta a celor ce se joaca mereu. 

Caci joaca te pazeste de certitudini, de perfectiune, de rational si de comitment. Joaca este doar joaca. 

O joaca a culorilor sincere, fara nuante, dupa o zi ploioasa. 

swirl de iaurt la capatul unor lumi diferite

Confirmarea unor lumi diferite. Opuse aproape. La limita unui strat de zapada care se ridica intr-un swirl de iaurt si se transforma intr-o inovatie usoara, ca o patinatoare ce sufera mereu de o foame groaznica. Limitele se rostogolesc peste pamantul rece. Lumile se deschid doar in noptile de luna plina cand lupoaicele se aduna si se inchina unui Zeu care urla la soare in lumina unei luni trecatoare. 

Lumi diferite

Liniste in lumea de dincolo. 

Se cutremura pamantul sub picioare neobosite. 

Se arunca perspective opuse si se ciocnesc fara echivoc. 

Lumi paralele ce se ciocnesc precum bilutele de tapioca intr-un ceai prea amar la prima ora a diminetii. 

Se cutremura lumile. 

Nu se misca parerile din loc. 

6 stars

a star is a beginning of a beautiful friendship

second star is the one that makes the effort. 

third star is lost in between the clouds 

forth star is denying it all

5th star is confessing it all one way or another 

6th star is the one that stands still and makes my heart sit in one corner of the universe and kindly fill the blanks of emotions unspoken for.

7 th is near the big bang

Ghost of my past life

First 7 days and first 17 days of the year. The echo of my childhood. The limerescence of my mid life crisis in an awaken proposition of antilimerescence. 

I have seen the ghost of my past life and she told me only one thing - you do and feel only what you were meant to do and feel here. 

no ground

Gelosy that has no ground, no keeper and no reason to be. 

shelf

listed in a shelf of isolated thoughts 

that I close in a basket I managed to throw away in the dark of last year's commitment. 

listed in a shelf of unhealed beginings 

a closed shelf of choked emotions, that I finally start to override. 

finally snow

In the snow, where my boys play, 

right close to the land I hold dear

in the snow I undress my feelings of lost, of unclarity, of lack of judgement. 

In the snow I let them, right beneath the snow man, whom my little ones named Salami. It is their laughter, their voices, their hands their smiles and their cry that give me power and guidance. 

In the snow I let my stubborness be. 

intuition

It is my intuition, a feeling I have no understanding for, in day to day life, a feeling that has no reason, no afterlife, no face and no undergoing way to be. 

It is my intuition that drives me. My intuition without exterior motives, without anything else then a feeling.  My intuition I reject and my intuition that every single day has a way to transcend my rationale, my decisions, my no go.  I really don't like my intuition nowadays.  

It really makes me take noncontainable decisions. Non argumentable decisions. It is my intuition versus what I have build for so long. Maybe it is not my intuition. Maybe it is temporarily. Although temporarily it is not. 

lavanda

Flacoane de cuvinte sfaramitate. Se cutremura farmacia in care se prepara gandurile libertatii serene. Lipsa. Iar. Necuvant. Iar. De aceasta data fara a ramane eul meu in tranzitie. 

Incheie si pune sigiliul timpului. Incheie si intoarce-te spre ce e cel mai important. 

Lasa-ti cuvintele femeie, in rasnita. 

Inchide-ti zambetul si fa-ti un semn creol pe frunte. 

Leaga-ti mijlocul de un camp de lavanda si canta. 

7 cai

Alinierea primelor 7 zile din an. 

Un Cal si o Regina alergati de un nebun trecator si nestatornic. 

Felii de viata pe o tabla de sah. 

Margine a firii, predispusa la prapastii nesfarsite de intrebari si de dealuri strepezite de vantul gandurilor neterminate. E sacrificata tura. 

Striga regele neputincios. Revine calul in cercul de aur. Se intoarce tabla ca dovada a curajului. Si calul ei devine al tau. Si calul meu si-a vazut de drum. 

Nebunul e prea tanar ca sa stie ce i se intampla, iar tura e deja sacrificata.  

Se joaca Regina si calul, calul tau, sau calul ei? 

Un rege sfarsit intre doi cai invinetiti de vant. 

Cordon Olimpian

La poalele noptii, inainte ca luna sa se infasoare intr-o patura pufoasa de nori trecatori

La poalele noptii ma rog la zei trecatori, la faramele icoanelor lasate de bunicii mei, la cositor si la soarele apus de mult. 

Ma rog la tot ce ar putea fi in afara mea, pentru ca 

Inauntru privirea imi ia foc, fiinta mi se cutremura, 

Inauntru gasesc forta, aroganta si disonanta pentru orice divinitate concatenata la univers. 

Inauntru m-as pierde inainte sa incep sa inot. 

Inauntru ma duc doar martea, in ora de terapie, la care mai mereu intarzi. 

Inauntru n-am vrut sa ma lepad de nimic, dar nici sa construiesc nimic, 

Inauntru se ascunde un cordon olimpian, creionat sub forma unui stomac mai lung si mai pornit sa arate lumii cum arata stomacele lungi, care ascund cordoane aurii ale zeilor dinauntru. 

Lupii si luna plina

lupi la poarta sufletului meu,

lupi transformati in varcolaci luandu-mi poarta de fier in asalt si apoi fugind schelalaind. Lupi asaltati de emotii prea multe, profunde emotii ale infinitului. Jderi speriati, ascunsi printre crengi, vazand lupii alergand si zbierand la luna, pastrand ceva din aroma sufletului meu floral cu note de lemn si portocale, de multe ori cu gust de ciocolata cu lapte. 

pitici la granita de sus

Intre minte si corp, 

Pe linia ce separa cerul de pamant, 

danseaza pitici imbracati in albastru royal 

cu palarii inalte ce din cand in cand imi gadila 

barbia. Singura care are un strop de credinta infinita.

Danseaza piticii o hora de gorj, o hora scuturata, infundata si neschimbata de ani, 

recicleaza in centrul ei, lacrimi din tinerete, nestemate figurine ale eului de atunci apar pe margine. 

Nu se cutremura, nici nu zambesc. Sunt cum eram demult. Si se sting si se alinta, cum e normal, pe varful palariei la intalnirea cu barbia. Rar piticii imi zbuciuma scurt corpul. O tuse violenta ma surprinde din piept. Au pus de o sarba, ca sa imi trezeasca pieptul si gatul si stomacul. 

Se rupe cercul piticilor straini. Vine momentul sa ii recunosc, sa ii potolesc, sau sa ii eliberez, sa duca credinta barbiei si in restul corpului, nescuturat cu adevarat, de ani.