As if each kiss
is one more promise.
a little wish
carried by the waves
to the shore.
perhaps already
we’re summoned by the hand
which calls
to the inevitably youthful eyes.
As if each kiss
lingers like lilies
in the swamp.
you hold your breath
you also hold mine
and in the slow return
from the fire
we struggle to breathe.
the bent head
the curved neck
and the bell strikes again.
we make our way back
to the shore
bound together, the sum
of life.
so walk slowly
don’t put your heavy
foot forward
stay away from the light
let it mourn over
the death, a dream has
just incurred.
let the light reflect
what it could have been
and create a shadow out of
what it has become.
do not whisper
for you may delay
its existence and
a connection with me
in a new world.
but don’t walk away
just stay, and notice
what happens after you killed
your dream last night
over a cup of coffee
you put on the blinds
and brushed it aside from
your life.
you celebrated your eyes
soon after that
and ignored the cries
coming from the floor
oh, how cruel a man
must be not to feed
and kill the child
of his own.
be careful, you’re stepping
over the line
just stop breathing
and let it die
and go back to
chasing what normality ensues
after a one last sigh.
Three More Days: a.co/8qmOtnw
Never take advice from someone working in corporate.
Chances are,
they don’t value their creative freedom
over things like money,
status, appearance and other shiny stuff.
They will never know
what creating something freely feels like.
It’s not living
a dream, it’s living
a lie.
It’s 2 AM
his tired eyes are
wide awake
shining
from realizing
a dream
he slows down
his breathing,
controlling.
his fingers
doing their own
thinking
type furiously
on the keypad.
the dreams.
the plan.
the possibilities.
the outcomes.
every tiny explanation
his soul provided
and was made up of.
Legacy.
It’s 3 AM
his tired eyes
are dead
but his dreams
now have
a structure of words.
forever alive
in his fingertips.
“Dream.”
he said.
“I can’t.”
she replied
with a smile on her
face.
“It’s your fault honestly
I’ve ran out of things
to dream about
because of
you.”
They said you can’t win anything with this manager.
They said you can’t win against the biggest clubs in the world.
They said you can’t win with non-league players in your team.
That you can’t compete at the highest level with this budget.
That your winning chances are the same as chances of Elvis being alive.
That eventually you’ll falter and return to the bottom.
That it’s just a dream and will never be a reality.
That it’s time to be logical and not be romantic about this.
They said it’s impossible.
Everyone listened to them.
Everyone believed in them.
Except you.
You didn’t care.
You just let the results talk.
You put your head down and worked hard.
You exhibited day in and day out how much you wanted it.
And in the end, you showed the world that fairy tales do exist.
That miracles still happen.
That if you really want something, you don’t have to worry about “them”.
You just have to go and get it.
For a team like you to come and take the giants on with their wealth and experience – not only take on but to beat them – it’s the biggest thing to happen in any sport.
Congratulations Leicester City on winning the league, and thank you. You captured the imagination of the sporting world and beyond with your display of courage and never-give-up attitude.
You have given everyone hope.
The romance is not dead.
tonight
the clouds are
neither white, nor black
it’s all gray
the lavender moon breathes
quietly.
cigarettes live in the streets of
your mouth
while you dream on
in gray clouds of your smoke.
you’re a beautiful skyscraper
untouched
by the wrecking balls
a butterfly
washed in busted
fire hydrants
a dream
wrapped in pastel
baby blankets
fireflies
plugging their tiny lamps
in and out
of your eyes.
blood pumps like
gasoline
our sweat becomes fire
i crush a star
and sprinkle it in your hair
the warmth of your whisper
is still in my ear.
Life in a blog 