Don’t be paperweights
holding down
loose leaves
of your scribbles,
grab,
and release them
in the wind.
They may not hold secrets
deep enough, you believe,
worth our time
but
if the sheets
scatter
inquisitive eyes might
catch a glimpse of
your ink blots on each page
and pass on your
courageous tale.
their hands move quickly.
twist, turn, bend then close the lap and
lock the flap
and it’s done.
the box is made.
weight. contents. bar-code. invoice.
the box is ready to leave the building.
so many layers
to the box and to us
and yet,
we are still free out of the box.
under this blue urban sky
between the infinite shadows and puddles
on the main street
Now,
like many years ago,
in addition to the height and the width,
we are
the shallow depth.
and we have memory of
us.
It’s a great night outside.
I start looking at the stars,
smell the rawness
of air, as it crawls on
your estranged face.
my head feels slow,
a creature time-traveling through space.
Existing.
my eyes breathe
at their will, keeping my
hopes alive.
I am all lost,
into the nothingness of your existence.
I start hacking up the death
and you say,
“What the fuck?”
I die a little more.
cold shivered deep in my bones
you also got a hang of it,
your ears turned red.
I always thought how the chill
that numbed our faces
was a different temperature to both of us;
you felt winter in the dawn of spring.
lately you’ve been sharing it,
without slicing the knife
through the air of silence,
making your core warm like summer.
Your reflection in the rainy puddles is just as distorted as
your way of thinking.
it was gone all of a sudden
sitting here in
its chair by the window
a deep sigh
one last breath
the soft mourning
of a long life
Flowerless
it closed like it opened
with a poem
not a song.
Your eyes inspire metaphors,
a poet’s tool of choice
for holding open invisible doors,
enough to hear, believe,
the voice you whisper
on the other side.
Come ride with me,
a long drive will be the best,
and leather seats
will be impressed,
by deep glazed breaths and youthful flesh,
as rhymes, colorful faces,
sighs and kisses,
escape from every lip.
So, here’s the thing. After endlessly scrolling on WordPress and Medium, I realized: we read hundreds of blog posts every year. Some of us do that maybe every month. And let’s be honest for a minute.
On how many of those things you read did you ever take action? How many things did you actually execute that made your life better?
Think about it, and if you can come up with with an answer, please let me know. I’m curious.
I’m not saying all the things you read on blogs are completely useless. There is some great content out there, but most of it is just list of things for you to follow in order to make your life better in one way or the other. And even if it’s actionable, it doesn’t really create a value in your life or help anyone, except maybe the person who wrote it in the first place.
For many of us, this huge amount of content on the internet is a never ending spiral that only confuses us as readers and move our focus away from what’s truly important. It takes the focus from DOING. From taking ACTION. From figuring out what works for YOU and what doesn’t.
It’s not worth to know-it-all “in theory” but having no idea what works in the real world for you.
You need to find your own solutions, and only you can do that for yourself. Go out there, experience things, test, fail, tweak and repeat. Until it starts to make sense. Until it works out.
So do yourself a favor and stop reading blogs. Stop reading my blog. And focus on what’s truly important. Focus on DOING. Focus on getting your shit out there. Focus on getting shit done.
Life in a blog 