But if love intends

I lose my dream

i the sea that i wanted you with 

a dreadful longing.

To be close to

love that never  ends.

In the usual calm

love corrupts me

and always defeats me,

Then convinces me

That I can dream.

And I lose my dream...

But if love intends

To be more than longing then

let me  die at night

in the bed that burns

with so much pleasure.

 let love  becomes a flame

 overcomes the sadness.

But your love is a sea that never stays.

Does not even wait for me

and goes, with my dreams.she 

rest in bed for a while and

invites me to the love dance,

To the dance of life

fulfilled and pasionate

with all the pleasure!

 I am writing to you, hoping to show you a glimpse of my mind and the priceless worth I have placed on you.

Sometimes when I look at the ocean or an especially large mountain range, I feel overwhelmed and small, but in a good way. It’s comforting to know there’s something out there bigger than I am. Something large and enduring that has lasted through the ages. Through harsh weather, storms and droughts, through changes in history and climate, the ocean keeps on rolling and the mountains keep on standing tall. When I think of you and our love and how I feel about you, I feel the same way. My love for you doesn’t make me feel small though, it makes me feel powerful and new. I look at you and I know that I will love you forever, through storms and droughts, through all the changes that will undoubtedly come our way. I will love you forever. There’s no changing that.

Reincarnated my Existence

                      Reincarnated my Existence

Assorted taste in my mouth. My memory strives to rake up our moments
I remember the last time that I kissed you,  this tiny helpless second.....
Whatever I lived, this day passed, nothing was worth as much as your kiss.

Sitting in a corner invisible empty of all the ugliness of the world.
I just wanted your taste .....
And through her blasting and liberating howl,
my earth shook politely..
And the wind hushed for an Infinity Moment of love..
 Time froze...
as it faced her flaming lust for surrender
and I.. stood there..
 in her outburst

which reincarnated my Existence.

The Dream of a Ridiculous Man

                          The Dream of a Ridiculous Man

The last short story Fyodor Dostoevsky wrote is about being seriously ridiculous. In "The Dream of a Ridiculous Man," an intellectual prone to existentialist despair is saved from suicide when, in a vision, he discovers a parallel planet where humanity has never sinned. "It was like being in love with each other, but an all-embracing, universal feeling," he tells the reader. This contact with Eden reinvigorates him, but then, during a playful moment, he teaches the planet's innocents how to deceive each other — and this leads to a catastrophic, Biblical fall. By the time the man awakens, his Eden has become just like Earth, full of violence, crime and war. It's the world he once thought was meaningless. And still, the man finds himself redeemed. He stands on a corner, preaching the essential goodness of humanity, despite his knowledge of the equally omnipresent potential for corruption. He's a rube for being optimistic, and he knows it. But he declares at the story's end, "I shall go on and on!"

The serious ridiculousness expressed in that conclusion differs from the unthinking kind that entangles people every day. Ordinary ridiculousness comes from not being aware — from either simply not thinking about bad or excessive choices, or from embracing blind faith in the self, a God or a system. A seriously ridiculous person is clear-eyed. She knows that idealism is a fool's game to begin with, and that every conviction carries the risk of closed-mindedness. But she takes on belief as a practice, a way of being around others that seeks common ground. The ridiculous man or woman has found a way to connect things within life's inevitably broken landscape. It's an act of reaching out that can never be fully fulfilled, but which changes things in the moment, which is all we really have.

Just trying to figure out why  no one can touch this love........

Sounds

I remeasured the sounds that marked our lives the thunder from the sky and the sea the death that shows me  her anxiety her color. only your bitter smile missing ...

Time stopped
in the time of sorrow
and left a tear
to soak up the memory
in unfulfilled
desires
roads that
they did not walk
and moments that were extinguished
from red rain

Separate souls: If you are open to new possibilies in your lif...

Separate souls:



If you are open to new possibilies in your lif...: If you are open to new possibilies in your life, then that alone will give you the access to those possiblities. Readiness is all.The m...

i know that you be in my hart

If you are open to new possibilies in your life, then that alone will give you the access to those possiblities. Readiness is all.The mind is everything. What you think you become

W.H Auden “Stop all the clocks…”

Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.
Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message He Is Dead,
Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.
He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last for ever: I was wrong.
The stars are not wanted now: put out every one;
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood.
For nothing now can ever come to any good.

thanks....

Love once given us

Love once given us .. As a unique opportunity. At least in the form that will not ever seen before. And tors what to do? Rather than live it? What to do? The drag here and there killing the ... Divide in moments corpses, killed in hours that will bury us, inside the caves is us, the caves where freedom is born of desire. We are called to manage the love that is given us and all we see is the so-called love we give and expect to manage the other We stay in the same without wishing to see how liberating it is to live with him who listens to hear - your love sees your eyes, live on your breath .and it comes to flinch to get lost and stay there in the gaps themselves. I saw you once in my dream. You had come unexpectedly says. We were at home so I love because all I had was you. Only  you. Your skin had that aroma still smell in my heart. We had arms and were trying to dream as you ... Do you remember? I knew that this dream will be lost but I did not care. You were there beside me. In felt and that was sufficient. Both hot as always. Tender and true as you were always. My longing to feel your lips once again light in my darkness ... Call me a hug to those endless nights that we were looking desperately one mouth else to steal the breath for a little common life .And approached me ... and your breath caressed with such old ... and for a while kissing me with loved again and again hated even more than any other time you tell me in a whisper. And you got lost. I woke up more than I ever betrayed. But anyway my dream,  I will find the way that I can feel even through your words your breath caresses me again.

I wanted to believe in the dream and believed.........

I knew I was dreaming don’t you   think..

Edgar Allan Poe--A dream within a dream

Take this kiss upon the brow!
And, in parting from you now,
Thus much let me avow-
You are not wrong, who deem
That my days have been a dream;
Yet if hope has flown away
In a night, or in a day,
In a vision, or in none,
Is it therefore the less gone?
All that we see or seem
Is but a dream within a dream.

I stand amid the roar
Of a surf-tormented shore,
And I hold within my hand
Grains of the golden sand-
How few! yet how they creep
Through my fingers to the deep,
While I weep- while I weep!
O God! can I not grasp
Them with a tighter clasp?
O God! can I not save
One from the pitiless wave?
Is all that we see or seem
But a dream within a dream?

Time passed

Time passed much and a goodmorning  is not enough , a goodnight not enough , hello is small and a goodbye hurts . Games stories only with sorrow and life continues.

Different but eventually we both themselves and  i understand .And you understand.

The words do not make sense but sometimes soften the pain is wish and hurts less.

Still Life with Woodpecker by Tom Robbins

It's one of those books that makes you wonder what the author was smoking, so you have to be in the mood for the absurd when you read it. If you're never in that mood, beware, because, as Robbins says, "Those who shun the whimsy of things will experience rigor mortis before death."

Small feelings

   I never had , nor will never , I suppose . And understood , and you stayed more.

  I needed to see your lips .

 I need your body near me . 

I think I am lost but I know next to you I am safe , 

And I'm talking about the worst thing I have in me , and strive to give you the best I have in me because you do not deserve anything less.  And to tell you the truth though deep down I do not want.

Is there a solution? Yes there is to express your even slightly unconditional , the endless and without beginning , MY LOVE FOR YOU .

............... I wanna......

"Would you hear my heart when its beating? Would you hear my heart when its gone?

To me your  love was always infinite, stolen moment at a time

I wanna find I wanna find I wanna find another daydream, another nightmare

When that night was over and the field was lit up bright and I walked home with you nothing I said came out right"

only our lonely love can devour us but when we are lonely, the same love empowers you

"I'm in my finest hour can I be more than just a fool? It always gets so hard to seem bright before the moon".when everybody's looking it's supposed to be a dream

new entry

- Esther Greenwood is at college and is fighting two battles, one against her own desire for perfection in all things - grades, boyfriend, looks, career - and the other against remorseless mental illness. As her depression deepens she finds herself encased in it, bell-jarred away from the rest of the world. This is the story of her journey back into reality. Highly readable, witty and disturbing, The Bell Jar is Sylvia Plath's only novel and was originally published under a pseudonym in 1963. What it has to say about what women expect of themselves, and what society expects of women, is as sharply relevant today as it has always been.