CODEBATTLE PART II ( Starprojection-Numerique)

.  RETROSPECTIVE:
  The genius man with X Ray eyes was scanning the world in order to create a new system of perfection and thus he came up with Threo the three-code computer revolutionary robot. As the two-by-two universal codes were broken down by the self-thinking machine all information belonged to the creator till his prototype started wondering on his own through the amount of systematic dimensions. He came across a new force of intelligence that took over and replaced his coding schedule with an even more complex one formed only of equations.

  THE STORY CONTINUED:.....

   Jade the IT student could not fail his test. Not that time however something was wrong with the whole computer network. He decided to explore the multiplication of three-by-three as the new gadget generation was haunting his mind but he soon gave up... At night his laptop screen broke down with light sparks and all data lost itself to the undefined result. He could not understand the fast degree of development and neither could he guess why all his data got lost so fast. Little did he know that the whole world was facing the same trouble. He decided to find out if something was wrong with the cables linking electricity to his laptop so he jumped up and turned on the lights. All bulbs exploded at once sending the room into a view of sparks. It was a common thing in his house so before paniking he thought about gazing at the window in a dreamy state for at least a few minutes. The tragedy revealed itself outside as the sky was projecting a kind of cinema show of lights. The obvious structures of mathematics were only equations. The first degree terms were up to the top solving themselves one by one. The sky blackboard was automatically wiped and the operation infinitely replaced with yet other and other numbers. The intelligent unearthly being was starting its' atrocities towards the information of the blue planet. The calculation was growing more complex as a human looked from top downwards and two-three unknown numbers, the twist and turn of multiplication and division made everything stand still. 
  Electricity was stopped all across the Globe and the sky darkened giving everyone the chance to watch the hugest live class lesson about every different equation theory there existed. The  show of light was draining information and energy out of Earth, authorities facing an advanced degree of hysteria unable to handle the situation.
  The student started a thought in mind. He was in need of either communication or support antouched by fear he started walking forwards. But the light code power took hold of his brilliant mind and nocked him down to the ground  reading his mind like a magnetic memory component. He slowly lost his breath to the power and gave his mind to them. As the force of light took him away his dead body started sending the brain impulses that contract a corpse until it becomes fully unfunctional and those small particles of static energy reached the mind of the X Ray-Eyed genius who was looking for some support. He took the force he needed and hoping he would solve everything started fixing Threo who would have been the greatest witness. Maybe the prototype was the thing that gathered all information both from the original background as well as from the ones who destroyed him and brought lethargy to common mathematics. The sky was now comercialising the name of the code warriors along with a holograph-type logo that clearly read STARPROJECTION- THE LIGHTS OF NUMERIQUE.
  The old genius scanned everything with his eyes and realized that Threo needed to work and build up something stronger along with him. It had to be radically different and if science allowed it probably invisible.... His micrometer transformers were too huge. He determined himself to create the smallest industry in the Universe : The Nano Industry of infinite Information........


TO BE CONTINUED ...

SYSTEM THEORIES PT.1- CODEBATTLE

  
… His X ray eyes started uncovering the darkened shape of a long forgotten world and nothing told them he was there, somewhere on the outside looking in. Energy blasting everywhere, creating a kind of post-modern chaos inside the brains of those already washed away by madness. The screen that never ended a kind of abstract projection starfed a feelingful conversation with the scanner eyes and a new device got forged along with their ideas. It was a perfect machine designed in the unique tripple-code system combination. The purpose was to clear-up the so called * old world* and remake it in a new set of numbers. The screen and X ray camera eyed hero were too bored with only 0 and 1 as language friends so they decided to multiply number three and come to a count result of three times three multiples of three.
Threo was the prototype name of the newest social member of rebirth and in hope and light its' creation had to change a gathering of mental forces… Thus numbers themselves were under threat of operational * soft* war… 
  The former manager and creator of technical support in the area was staring at his blank revery as the new appearance started making its way along his codes of influence and as his display changed attitude his heart sunk to the core of sadness. The X rayed one started pennetrating his world and mind stealing all ideas he had left and running away after the poor man's suspect death.  Next day the Legal forces started facing a disagreement of misscomunication as the chaotic multiplying numbers burned down processing material and the terror of scanning started taking place in what used to be a peaceful area.... and thus the man using sight and the revolutionary screen worked themselves out through distopia. 
  While staring at his night memories in which he was referbishing another set of numbers he found out a small error in the cod formation. Quite natural when mathemathics take over everything in an inmense correctness could stop the flow of logic and  history, for it wants itself written insidiously interferes. And on the calculation small board the man who could see it all restored it all to 0 and made multiplying possible again. Absorbed in his notion of the unknown and distracted by the chant of simmetry he abandoned his Threo for a while and the robot prototype started navigating on its own through radio waves. After destroying two-by-two systems that made a superficial vision on his revew mirror he passed on searching and waiting for something that might attract his atention. As the three-by-three multi-tasking engin allowed him to make decisions he chose to hide from his creator and covered a protective field of three layers to keep him invisible. While wondering in the apparent empty space of his distruction he discovered a platform that appeared to be inhabited by other beings. The magnetic complexity of this energy was overloading his processing capacity as light followed him along the path. The sparkle boom of rayed numbers detached him from the shield  and started searching through his databasis. Threo the prototype could not understand the magnetic language as that superior undefined structure was using not only a code of multiplication, it was actually creating and solving situations in a perfect gathering of letters and signs which in schools are known to humans by the name of ECUATIONS. It was so hard to decode the light coming towards the third multiple of trinity and so unexpected that even the X ray scientist's designer screen started lighting up and showing codes on its' own eliminating every previous mathematical operation. The man was staring in wonder at his small board struck and blocked and all his information was now as far as he could tell back-uped in another mind. 
  The prototype lost battery power and fell in a dorment state as ecuational lights took him over. Now three against two was just a dream of the past and the new misterious force started ascending the montain of chalange to steel away the darkened X ray heart of the three-by-three codemaker.... 
TO BE CONTINUED....

PLAY ICE- SKATE FOR LIFE

 The question is : '' What starts as a game, ends as a game and has a game in it?'' The answer: ''Life!''
And this is the way his thoughts come back an forth as he slides down through past and future, spinning and swirling in the misty ray. There is light and a reflection, a shadow cast upon the ice as he flows like a warm river of blood on the mirror surface of the area. He respects all orders and jumps, turns and falls. We all have to fall don't we? Falling, losing everything, losing track of time for a moment, throwing one's life in the other reality, one step closer to the afterlife. The game is still on and none notices the loss of the skater, he has to rise and the enemy behind reflects a ghostly shadow on the ice. All fall down. The skates have no control, the ice is broken, the dream ends in the tunes of a song. The bad iceskater laughing at the good one keeps on following and the notion of honesty has to run away and be safe from the incrimination. He stands up again, fighting his own madness as a song goes on and on, as the sun sets bringing the stars  to join the cold night of Siberia. Lights are gone, strings are broken in the dark and the chase continues for life and death. The good ice skater is so tired he wants to break the ice, break it all disappear from the gaze of the bad one and the duel is now an artist's handling of swirls and turns. The porcelan doll spectators laughing at the trails of blood that now bring colour to what once used to be white open their wide eyes wider and tiny fat hands grab the theater transfering it from one to another dimension as the artists jump and lose balance every minute. It might end up when eyes open but when all is closed there's nothing left to do. In a quest for survival I once had the chance to win against the bad skater but I lost life as he cut a strand of my hair with the sound of a broken heart. He skated over it cutting it all to bits and by the time I gave in we both ended up scribbling our stories from different angles of Heaven and Hell. He shall always follow but who would refuse doing their jobs when everything is a game?

Afterlife Rebirth

   I had to decide what to do with my life in the one that was to come, so I took it with me in a bag full of fear and light. I started searching for the kindest sensation of floating into nothingness and as candlelight was starting to burn my shadow I manage to escape through a small instant and lose myself in an inmense structure of supreme conclusions. Trying to find out why the dream wouldn't end by sunrise and how a soul made its' way through the natural order of ballance breaking the compositions into thirds. Gallactic taste of stars opening a pathway of milk to infinity , pushing me towards the central forging, to see the master of abstract illusions. Day and night cannot be a contrast now that they are united in a whole and my feelings turn to stardust dropping to the ground as I see your eyes from up above fixed on my burned shadow on the wall of a revery. I left it there with you so that your dreams would not let you feel lonely in this life or the next. Closer than everything the path of light opened in the spark of a miracle and falling life like summer rain leaving all that once used to be my force and will is now drowning mother Earth in a silvery ocean of unknown rebirth. Behind me and far beyond the gates the darkened truth of a shape spotted by grace of a candle is now a mindwork of distopia. The pale is extinguished and I am gone for good till some call shall bring me to true reason out of my floating serene sleep…

CHRISTAL LITERATURE

  It is so hard to remember and yet the most detailed story rolling up before my eyes in an unclear realism, making my confusion more and more specific. What brought me to the state of dreamlike reality must have been something as deep and destructive as love, for it was love I was thinking of before the car I was in fell down shattering the air, destroying the universal harmony in a system of world interconnected symmetry... Hearts might stop for one another but the constant metallic ting-tingy sound of the unfriendly computer that assures others keeps me from sliding away into something different. Before my eyes a spinning of lights, so much art linked to the fine line between the abstract and today's innovation in electricity, making me find a poem in everything, a little drop of sunshine sparkling on everything and everyone especially at night, when the monsters of darkness cannot cover their good souls reflecting themselves upon the screen of my letargic memory... And screens are what I see wherever I turn to, especially precious high quality ones transporting my whole integrity to the miracle of essencial thinking... Storing everything in an inner magnet brings me one click closer to passing over all information to you. Wireless technology is much wiser than we thought encouraging our love through my modern breathing tube that requires no cable so that my ghostly walk remains unobserved by my sleeping nightguardian and my ignorant angel. I can throw all secrets of this institution over the window and over the rainbow, lock knowledge in the king's secret room of wonders and keep the key. Thus even him can be my ellement of torture and all gold in his realms will not buy my key, my little metallic defender against Gogol's dead souls running through life's sweet illusion.
  Pain and fear, all taken away by a touch of morphine hide into the mist of what has to be forgotten but for some reason I cannot understand I manage to give them up instead of calling them to let me see how much alive I am. With every minute my mind becomes my supreme reason and you lie there burrying my love in a breathing tube while I run for what they keep in their little cyber tubes. 
 When the faceless man dressed in white asks me my name and what year it is I take him for a stupid jester and amased that he's a medschool graduate I smile at him with superiority: 
' Look here, sir, my name is not to be known by the ones who don't know what they need to know and our current year might not even matter for the future counters of time... I well know who you are but how comes it that none had the skill to register me in your insidious archives? I'd like to debate all this with you, however I'm so tired and I have to go to sleep, wake me up when I am needed and gather some self for yourself!" 
 And so I sleep and dream of laptops being turned into  a diary of pure christal literature ...

Abyss of the Above

    Yes I remember… all there was to be seen in the ideal world revealed itself before my eyes. I used to surf the moonlight with my little knife opening small interdimmensional gates trying to cut with care and passion the fine lines that identify the genesis of our being. I found you sitting on a bed of stars, in a tubullar weird capsule contemplating on theories like: what would it be better for hummanity between dancing upside-down and floating inside-out?
' All these questions and procedures stimmulate the brain to a suprene functionallity!'
Oh, I could have fallen in love with your abstract thinking painted in the most beautiful and soft facial expressivity. I could have stayed there for an eternal lightyear and watch your desorientated swirl where mind conquered mankind… there where all that happened I started to lose ground in favour of gravity and the huge magnetic force was pulling me away from the black love of Space.
  In an atmospheric worldly light I woke up to find my little pieces orbiting around the Earth from which some time ago I depparted in a magical dreamship. The knife is now yours to keep and I hope it msnages to cut away the illusion of a brief memory cought in the darkened abyss of the above……

Of lonely magic

  Have you ever touched anythimg like this? I made it for you , it's all for you to store your thoughts and run away just like I do... I'm lonely right here, right now as you write my mind over and over… swirl your fingers through me like the wind in the night and make me open up another chapter in your book… surely I would have done that had I not had to run through colours of the time, symbolic circles of an endlessness where unicorns building stars fly randomely above my head.. Leaving away musical notes just like an arty trail masking my misty way in the eyes of a child whose being hasn't become complex yet… such lonely dreams carved still upon the oldest stone, a smile fading to laughter trapped somewhere in a sweet second… it tastes of almond, a chocolate almond deep as your ink shining on the pavement where I damage myself with irony by candlelight… Pass over my sugar, love so that the sky can taste it with us!  Emperrors of running, hold on to what I created for you!  I have never ever been more secure as I am now and lifting up in a flow of energy I rise a fingernail to rejoin my rainbow and now that I have to leave you once again and for all I'm only sorry for my happy lonelyness with or without you all the same…

Of feelings and strangers

Strange stranger I should not be talking to you now as you touch my hand and as we're falling into a milky silence dripp all the white fragrance of wisdom over my tired bones till tomorrow shall wash my dream away... Already between an integral splitting of realities crossing the bridge with you but so alone that I cannot see the light on your heart... I throw you down and the water protectively covers your face giving you a beautiful cradle forever within its deep deep realm... I will not run and will not cry the sun shall clear away the original being that created this design of life by the rhythm of a lost heart... The broken now turned into a memory because I drowned you strange stranger and I drowned my tears into a substance more bitter and cruel than that... Am I the sinner for having let you take over? No sure not... Am I horison for your new afterlife? Am I the one who gave you wings to find the answers to all your questions? Did I not hold you darling before I sent you away? Oh yes I am and I did all that I thought and said and wrote for you I even threw my heart away with you so that the waves shall not feel lonely while carrying what was left of your coldness... I did it all for you and I'll do wrong if I run away... So, mister judge, please lock me up under your darkened gates of gold and silver and keep me in the corner of forgotten minds where no letter can reach me since no one would spill ink upon my body as the drippy white milk that sent me to sleep and dream of you, spilled all over the place.. It's all gone and so are you , no use crying over the spilled and the lost... After all , mister judge, the one beloved was the least known and I learned that I shouldn't have talked to strangers... Maybe next time I'll remember not to answer a stranger they only want to drown themselves within me and do me harm by wasting one more life away....

I'll write my heart for you...

  I'll write my heart for you... but if you were in it you'd be my song when notes strike me like knifes on the edge... my back, it hurts too hard I cannot wash away the tears of gold, how dry they are, you're so unlikely to reappear again... There is a crack in the mirror just where my fury lingered for a while and there's a dream on the table waiting for my ink to colour it in your blood, beloved sacrifice of strength fallen upon my book oh keep the letters here they run and fall away turning me from myself to wilder as the sun dropping ray messages spitting light on the clock intimidating me with the ever sweetest smile, drifts away and hides like a coward behind the hugest sea... Come back and stop this stupid game!! It isn't fair to come and go away like this!! And the clock smashes itself under a blink of eyelids. Curly hair allover a serpent's madness of revolution and all this while my only move is projecting thoughts to the cinema wall in front. I'm too tired to get up but as thinking is my main act of doing something I chose to devour a non-productive lethargic state.. Oh, and what a delicious thing it is! Delighted by the taste I write my heart for you! Write it spill it with words, poison it with chocolate love and throw it in your face to catch it back and lock it safe so that we can run away on a cloud with an angel-harp in hand. This floating shelter is to huge for the two. I won't survive if love kills me so fall and write your soul for me from underneeth the ground comming upwords... I'm still material and you are away I'm holding on to a memory because tomorrow might be a nightmare.. You should have been more careful. It's all your mistake, my darling! How could you let me write my heart for your loss? Had you not done that you might have still been alive....

Eu am....

... Am o casa mare... Cat de mare? Foarte mare! Atatea porti ascunde-n ea cutia de chibrituri....
... Eu am un paradox pe nume Focs care se scrie asemenea lui cocs si e un mic ganditor calator care ma face mereu sa-mi dau raspunsul la aceeasi intrebare nedumerita fiind asezate strategic amestecul de nuci cu miere langa ciuperca otravita.....
.... Eu am cuvinte-ntregi cununi si regi stau toti ascunsi sa iasa la iveala doar intr-o noapte cand ceasul bate ora de taina atunci cand toti copiii dorm si cand natura cea desfigurata pare a fi 'Dumbrava Minunata' asculta-i zambetul in sine si lasa-te purtat de tine cararea sigur merge inspre bine....
.... Eu am un unicorn cu doar un corn , nu cu al iernii horn... zboara pe cer mereu stingher isi cauta o parte din frageda sa carte el scrie cu cerneala fermecata din cornul sau... asta doar cate-o data... in general fiind uituc la culme umbla prin lume recitand un nume frumosu-i glas de oameni amintit insa viersul mereu neauzit...
... Eu am floarea de nufar ascunsa-n cufar un instrument ciudat si lent de muzica fina ritm de lumina o nota suava pe-o voce grava matase-apoasa fiica frumoasa se-mbraca-n mare si pleaca spre soare alt suflet scapa trupul se-adapa, eliberare intr-o suflare
... Eu am alegorie in poezie comoara vie din gelozie nu-i pentru mine totu-ti apartine caci eu nu sufar inchisa-n cufar. Pe evantai imi scrii din rai trimite semn vantul solemn arunca strofa ce te imbraca sa vezi cum slova litere dezbraca... Priveste bine naturaletea apoi distinge ce e tristetea farama din mine pe unda din tine refractii rasfrange petala de sange...

DESPRE TIMP SI SPATIU

Asculta-mi cantecul si fugi dupa el.... De cand tu nu mai vrei sa mergi la scoala ti-am inradacinat hartia cartilor in florile de pe pervaz si sclipiri de inteligenta in pudriera..... (moto)
   
  Ne aflam intr-un moment... Intrebarile sunt de prisos acum... E doar un moment in timp iar spatiul e incadrat tot in interiorul momentului in sine. Intelectul momentan nu poate face fata schimbarilor bruste fiindca el ramane prins in acel moment, iar cel ce calatoreste in timp il va observa acolo mereu, fractiunea de secunda atat de rapida ramanand cu toate acestea fixata undeva. Tu treci pe langa tabloul care ramane static asemenea gandului peste care trece o ploaie de ani si-l uda cu experienta, cu noi perspective, cu miresmele unei alte lumi. Gandul insusi desi sufera transformari este ceea ce a fost cand l-ai fabricat si oferind o paleta larga de culori nedeslusite in acoarela, o voce sparta si chinuita de note muzicale incepe sa te indemne spre cea mai interesanta ora de desen. Cliseul ' a picta viata in culori' arunca paletele pe jos si cursul care gandeste pentru sine modifica starile de spirit si coloreaza fiecare picatura de traire intr-un fluid care nu se defineste neaparat printr-un element vizual cat prin intensitatea senzoriala a unei stari de spirit. Raman toate acestea prinse in moment  si stocate intr-o cutie toracica asemenea unei memorii interne cu fibra magnetica. Si inima este o iluzie care fuge din secunda in secunda prin micul ei camp gravitational.... Dupa siruri de impulsuri electrice si reflectii halucinante totul revine la normal iar mersul intregii firi continua la fel ca inainte fara a ne da seama ca de fiecare data pasim pe o noua cale in alte dimensiuni ale modificarilor genetice si umane. Aceleasi diferente in similitudinea noastra ne pastreaza in acel moment impreuna cu tine... Viata trece direct proportional cu timpul, atat de static in perpetua lui miscare.........

Land of no horizons...

    There was  an opening in the air as clinging to the little thread of life I float along the seas and above the sky waiting for the touch of an argument that might bring me down... If down is good then up cannot be bad since it is a symbol of eternal climbing towards supreme sincerity but since I'm  not there yet, the neutral liquid keeps me in a state of ice like a farewell song deeply shaking the montains in a gentle note of agony...
  I write love on cold sands and as the wave comes my fear transposes a musical note added to the solemn artwork bellow the hot spot of the earth and the rumbling rebirth of chaotic order reestablishes a set of new cells for the other one's blood. The wave will not come till tomorrow but it doesn't have to hit my love to break it . Not huge but slowly advancing the fantasy of water foam forming clowdshaped figures under and over the *me in the air*. So I must be in some other world for my sea and my sky are all the same. There's atmosphere and clouds above, there's water and foam bellow. The only difference is the sunny reflection on the surface of the artificial mirror that beholds me. Such desolate pain I have never felt before... So, where are we now? In the circular tunnel of imagination where spinning round and round only to see the reflection of the *up* in the *down*. Protecting myself with a ray of tears I advance on to the other side and the wave softly blows away my love written on sand. The words did not hurt, they just transfigured into something else, an undefined mixture of tenses sent on a one-way windy journey over to the land where sky and watter are all the unavoidable union of horizons... 

BROKEN HOURGLASS

I feel so fragile in your arms and yet I know exactly what to say with the most precise little bit of sand that flows within me and it flows like life in front of your eyes when you blink... you blink me away and throw me down... How careless you are when you see my little shards that break and break with a second's crack that lasts for another minute that turning into an hour and a day at the same time makes you forget the way that months and years are organised and the endless counting holds you back from reality... Locked up inside a dream cut by my shards broken by the loss unknown to you an image of the city turns memories into dust as you enter the state of lucid dreaming... The hill is so huge that your king needs to be carried up . But your hands cannot lift him. They already tried it with me and I was too heavy for this quest so I now, broken as I am ask you not to take him up. The wings of Icarus are melted ever since they were used for the first time and yet you  would not understand.... On the edge of the rainbow another game awaits your arrival and once again I watch you and spread myself all over your path just so that you may take a step and break another shard... Break me and cut yourself again and again... spreading no vitality around us but trying and trying to learn how to fall... You see? That's quite hard when you already know how to fly and once you're up you can't come down. You reversed your time with me and now it's all the same only with an other side view ... No more quests for the bravely fallen however this has to teach you never to destroy the energetic power of your time by ending the life of an hourglass....

ReDeath-ReBirth- Ogneno's last story

\I have always been searching for the end of the journey and here is my last path.... After I loved the queen of ice and helped creating myself in other and other little bits it's time for me to close my eyes and dream of sleep forever...
Thus Ogneno's thoughts flying in little sparks of heavenly tears directed themselves to some new state of evolution, for when there's death there is creation and thus what's left of him shall now be the flow of energy, the sign of deep lightning in a perfect hypnotism of the everlasting atomic movement.
Ogneno, son of mine you were and at your birth I died along with the old nature making you responsible of creating the concept of new. Now it's the time to call you for I want you here with me, oh and I want you so... My tears will drown your fire and you will then be ashes, my ashes and my life in death, my little creative light, my childbirth pain, my last breath and my everything, oh come to me and leave this world behind...
Ogneno's fear was a rainbow of fragile sweetness for bravest are those who know their way across their never ending bridge of feelings. The dying fire smelled of love and souls dissolving themselves make the ink a perfect healer for a heart thrown away on broken paper. I wrote you all and you have become creation, you are a song, the air, the whole and the empire of a me that lived as long as these words didn't transpose themselves into a fictive and forgetful numbness of mind....

A Mirror of Fire ( Ogneno's return )

The misty cover... Cross over a heart long dead stamping the remaining stings of an arrow. Till the next dawn the up will be going down and the phrase releasing powerless glowing figures of past reveries. By melting the ice with a scream the ascending new fragrance of another day slides gently to compose the format of a projected domination remarcable in its shapeless contrasts. If you let me touch your textures you will see we are all the same, lost fictional mirrors of the an illusional realistic reflection hanging from a branch of gratitude pumping the sensitive blood in the delicate hearts of the untrusted. From down bellow the central points of our mother planet up rises once again the one who suffered in space and was then sent down to pay a debt to the life he took without knowing how lethal can the supremacy of love be for a weak human revelation. As the ideas turn into thoughts and thoughts into written material, from this place to the others there's only a second travelling distance and the five senses turn into thousands as the feelings of an unearthly specimen contrast with the ones we all still have. The empathic accident is actually a cry for help damaging inner walls and future plans with its hurricane like speed and might....
The diamonds fell to the ground and remained there struck by a burst of flame. No one can touch the burning fragment that spilled no red liquid from any body but advertises the perfect advertisment of affection. I threw them down on the floor for Ogneno to feel them. He will now rise for the time he had in isolation has been fulfilled. The love of ice that he's been looking for will find him in need but the precious stones belong to the lost one and shall stand as witnessing decorative artifacts by the lonely grave... Morning dew greets the happy flowers at sunrise thanking universal intelligences for a new day and as clocks strike a heroic hello and pearls form marvelous items of jewelery a creeping obscurity sends down an unusual little rain with warm firedrops. We all return to pay our morality back after finding out the what and the why... After a moment of memory refreshing realisations Ogneno will throw himself again in a line of poetry flying back to the origins of time jumping through the stary nights on nimbus clouds and perfect rainbows. Slowly destiny recreates itself  around one single word of rebirth, the notion of being back differently equal to the one before... A mirror, a fire, a dream, an incredible chance of finding destiny.....

The Neo-Creation ( Ogneno's First Love)

Are you the you lost inside of the me? The ray that cuts within my light. The sun in you burns me and your heart feels love as it devours itself in burning little stars spreading from the deepest corner of eternity. Even Heaven has a dark side and you are danger the warmest point of fear. 
He falls in love, falls from the sky in agony along the angry trees that laugh at the sight. Sad wings of fire illumination of a teardropping flame , and Ogneno the one who gave at first his heart to the mortal being kills it with his softest kiss. Delicate roses taste so sweet when she eats the forbidden fruit and then the sting of a wasp troubling the silence of our forest in the night breaks open the door to chance and screams hide the words in an unearthly melodious click of momentary amnesia. Nealing down and hardly touching the ground, the abstract material of his structures produces the crushing insane link between life and death and two worlds in a contradiction of perpetual discordance meet for a slight nano spark in time declaring the founding of a new dimension before her sacrifice. It's a trustworthy spiritual glance at what it appears to be a glow of some silvery substance that covers the trees giving one last hug to nature befor returning to the unbeing concept of humanity and as Ogneno doesn't understand his loss standing over a surface above  the general global monster, the house of humans, he invents and reinvents another strict order of mind flashes. 
 I have created you with words but the power stands in your flames. The tactile sensation, all that was left of her in the far lands of that forest is what remains to be yours as legacy. Ever got any burns? Oh did you ever feel the blackness of the yellow turn your body into carbon and other substances undefined by chemists? Oh, Ogneno, my created, my baptist that made me come back to this, your love killed her body, my words punish your strength with  a lonely moon in the cosmic animosity of light years. I urge you to stay in your domain until the coldest debts be your kingdom and only then suffering shall end this neo-creation of an old universal theory... 

existing for the unreal.....

    The one, the only the symbol of gratitude fading away in the glimps of an error. Oh, make me exist just one more time because I don't have to die over the Sun... Now that the acid rain is spreading allover you and over me turning my chemical structure into an undefined misery, when blood turns cold, when all of love and supremacy collide against the heavy drops turning our silver and gold from magnificent fragrances to a dusty memory. The frame that contained a picture of me is now down in the ground where our bones rest and souls from up high in a forgetfull floating state clearing all remorse with the swish of an easy feather. Falling on my soil, my ground, my lands, the seed that we now plant together creating a new book of life. The old one has been burned by History itself and the legend is not ours to debate for the right of property is not that of a nation nore is it for you to judge its true meaning. You're not a judge! Or are you? Oh, in the name of all legal rules and all codes of morality, let me exist just one more time, just one more drop of life, my judge, my magic invention can revolutionise science compressing all that was known in the beet of a heart and send my beliefs to the clouds when all is done. Is this my time? Am I the rainbow crashing the beauty of an era destroyed by all those questions...
  And now it's dark and the truth, hidden somewhere in this massive obscurity shining upon the crown of agonising irony on a blue rose, an order of chromatic smell of the old scholars who left behind their books but took away their memories leaving us nothing but a theoretical perception of the everything. So, all is an idea of the 'whole', and relative tears streaming down your face are not real. Be happy! It means you don't know how to cry even if you cannot feel at all. Oh, don't let me exist once again for I have never actually existed. In this appearance I was only the ghost of an illusion and gone in the blink of an eye I'll send my pure eternity beyond a normal thought so that I might find my true self in another dimension ..... 

Heart Of Duality ( Ogneno's birth)

   Listening to the untold bedtime story... The sun is flying over a desolated moon and what comes to mind  in my sleepless hour reflected the dream I could reach upon the closest wall painted like a chromatic romantism mixed with the touch of precision... And still I cannot wait... Tell him... And thus my letterlike reported story starts but never ends. Words all seam to stop before the lips can tell them to anyone and the feverish glow of inocence upon my face of tearless crying leaves no dubts as to what I really am... I am a product of the whole and therefore I am nature. This night of pain and fear is what I wanted to end my troubled heart in a bliss of love when the warmest deepest frame of chaos has the mercy to fit me in one of the funny attempts of cubism. The look upon my doctor's face is not worried at all.. He knows what he's doing but the touch he brings with the cold tide is the one of healing pain and screams cutting the nights skies like a knife of call to Heaven cannot stop from bursting from my very soul tearing the white as a notion and splitting cells of atoms all around my  bloody agitation. All  stories have a happy end but the subliminal sadness lies somewhere beyond the reader's consciousness and when the child grows old it takes years of research to reach the final result of the hypothesis. And yet another cry for help and now a blazing spark rising high with my tears creating the perfect fusion of agony in a philosophy of reflections. Now, concentrating on the walls.. What can they say to me? What can I tell them now that the liquid mass of misty substances covers my eyes mixing the chemistry of my skin once more into a new combination, redefining the natural process of the two in one and all this series of wild images within my head as I try to improvise a brief welcoming speach along with my final act as I feal its nearby approach. 
  The room is hot now and all we stand on is fire... The child has come! Welcome my baby, my Ogneno the one born from pain, the child of fire one of the four the destiny of a burning heart without control... The night is only light when you're around and your flaming tears are sparks of diamond I leave you now, my first and final kiss... I hold you now with my last breath my infant ... Oh, let me leave through you in your structure of life in your soul I transpose myself reversing our duality in a vice-verse transfiguration of the two that now become one...
And tell him... Oh, don't tell him any word , just be you and I shall live through you poor life into my long gone soul for time is running short and on my way towards the lights of endless tunnels I see your face, my child, my guide mine left behind... I'd look away to you but now I cannot do so just feel my arms around you where your fire cannot heat me for I am now stone cold forever... 

Cele 4 Elemente

   1. Din intuneric iese o scanteie. Apoi doua. Apoi nouazeci si noua. Si infinitul prin magie e o clipita-n fata lui. Si soarele e rece pe langa trupul lui... Si tot ce vede-n calea-i preface-se in scrum cand merge pe-o carare sau pe-al omului drum. Ogneno, rege aprig,  inima-i arde si sufoca prezenta universala varsa sudori istorice si intrebari retorice in marea sa splendoare emana ganditoarele lacrimi inecate-n caldura ucigasa... Cand negura de scrum e singurul sau pat iar  setea sa fierbinte de loc nu-i ostoita alearga sa-si gaseasca o cale fericita... Dar vai de neguri grele si suferinta sa, dar vai de omenire, de inima cea grea, tot ce atinge-n cale se pierde se usuca. Nu-i cald ci e fierbinte, e ruga cea de teama. Cu degetul de-atinge a soarelui coroana o scoate de pe bolta sistemului solar si-o face amintire intr-un abecedar. A ars pamant si suflet in ne-ndurarea lui si tot mai intetita-i vapaia focului tristetea il cuprinde si arde si mai mult intregul lui se-aprinde intr-un mileniu mut.

2. Pe pat de somn si gheata printesa se-odihneste. In liniste nu-i viata caci nimeni nu iubeste. In locul unde frigul stapan se proslaveste, in locul unde nimeni nu traieste. Verde e doar cuvantul imaginar posibil caci gerul si zapada il fac neverosimil. Halodna, suverana cu inima de fier aduna in ea raul prin freamat de suspine se lupta printre turturi, cruste de gheata fine. In visul ei maestrul e al zapezii om ce se transforma brusc intr-un soldat neom. Cand sufla, cu raceala bruma se si depune. In vocea sa doar viscol si crivat au sa tune cand striga cu manie nimic nu-o sa mai miste caci forta nu exista ca ei sa ii reziste...

3. Copiii inspaimanta. dintr-un nimic se naste se raspandeste-n case in vise si in oaste. E frica si uimirea e jocul aiurit al psihicului mortii vestit de asfintit. E Tiomini, e zeul din intuneric dus spre lumea cea intreaga din cel mai trist apus. El nu iti mai da voie sa mai citesti din carte si-aduce cu el somnul in fiecare noapte. Scrie povesti si vise in chipuri fel de fel. -Nainte sa decada artist a fost si el. Pomeni si rugi adesea sa-l ocoleasca vor dar el se-opune groaznic impotriva tuturor. Si stavila-i stau zorile si-a lui mare iubire caci lacrima din roua ii e spre linistire. Si plange dimineata, a sa mama Utra cand soarele-l trimite spre fericirea ta. SI plange pentru raul ce-l face fiul ei si-ndreapta maini gingase spre creatori si zei sa-i dea fiului pace sa ii indrepte calea si sa priveasca-n tihna-mpreuna cu el zarea.

4. Ea e pura poezie, e concept, filosofie, frumusetea cea divina , Sveta, fiica din lumina. Cheama binele spre ea si din cea mai mica stea face zambete-aurii pe fete albe de copii si picteaza cer albastru si campii cu floricele, face rasete si canturi sa sune-ntre lumi ciudate. Universul isi da mana s-o primeasca in palate iar ea trece diafana peste firavele ganduri si culege ce-i mai proaspat de pe-ale vietii pamanturi. Inocenta ca mireasma freziei de primavara se avanta prin vazduhuri fie iarna fie vara. Se alatura-ntr-o clipa celui singur, celui trist si sopteste fiacarui ca exista paradis.




Ogneno coboara-n nouri manios de fapta sa. Cat rau sa mai fac eu lumii? Lacrimand asa gandea. Dar ajunge pe taramul stapanirii inghetate iar flacara sa paleste piere pana cand renaste intr-un licar  de speranta caci regina adormita tremura de frig si spaima il cuprinde-ntr-o clipita. In dorinta de a face buna fapt-asa cum vrea o cuprinde intre brate si ii da caldura sa. Tot tinutul inverzeste ce murise iar traieste dragostea gheata-ncalzeste, focul lui il potoleste echilibrul se asterne peste cosmosul intreg iar ca rege si regina Ogneno si Halodna sunt acum uniti pe veci in celeste constelatii langa zei si langa regi.

Tiomini, cosmar si frica intalni lumina ei. Se provoaca s-o-nspaimante sa o-ntunece s-o vada cum de mila-si plange dorul ingerul cu chip de fata. Sveta insa se indura si-i zambeste cu blandete iar el cade fara vlaga stors de a sa tinerete. Cu caldura ii da mana si-l ridica din tenebre. Il invata din nou arta fara de tente funebre. Tiomini acum e calmul linistea  si somnul lin , iara Sveta a lui soata, zana cerului senin.

Cele patru elemente ne invata inc-odata ca iubirea schimba totul  in ceruri si-n lumea toata. Eu sunt om, inima buna ce-n povesti va dainui. Prin ce-am spus din suflet liber printre slove-mprastiat va ramane drag de-a scrie si dupa ce voi fi plecat intr-o alta lume mare, in alta dimensiune unde tot ce se intampla e un vis si o minune...

The Siberian Dream ( Coldness of the coldest hearts)

The sun just went away in an egocentric flash and total darkness covered the land after it left for good... It was a day that ended for everything and every single fragment of life vanished along with the last spark of luminous perceptible sensations.....
 The heart was in a state of existing as material part of a whole that was only a gathering of atomic feelings and as the  universal system presented an error in the new formal structure, the ''drummer'' of one's body chose to remain dorment until the time was right for it to come to life again.... Then there was silence..... 
Over gallactic dreams, the delicious Milky Way was throwing shiny little impulses upon the snow and ice of Siberia. There was no sign of living souls around, no sound of joy or sorrow, no flame of forgotten passion, there was nothing but cold silence. Within the deep hours of the longest night an iced heart-shaped grave with a ruby upon the middle of the upper cover was standing as a house, a shelter and a frozen resting place for the queen's heart... No feeling around it appart from numb tranquility could be distinguished in the wonderful enormous natural castle where the trees were towers and the very pure white in its essence was the key to everything. Secrets were written on little parts of thought and could be understood by all who cared to close their eyes and drop down forever in the kingdom of rest, in the house of everlasting sleep. There was nothing here but sincerity, a wish for nothing and a desire of painless suffering. In songs and poems, the words could not explain the true feeling of this beautiful myth and those who went there returned without a word, without a soul, without sadness.....
  The dream has ended and as I awake more tired I feel when dread and fear cross a smile of fortune... I am the queen, behold my realms! Suffer no more and let your tears turn into ice. A heart that cannot be mended shall find a righteous way of contemplating the sky at night, when the music shines in contrast with the visual effects that make one's ears send the most pleasant sounds for the brain to be delighted... There in perfect harmony with the nothingness of the whole the ''everything'' lies hidden in every single gasp of air, in every touch, in every trial and in every reason... There shall we sleep and hearts shall rest until the sun may destroy our little imaginary sophisticated and conceptual natural habitat and all of us shall become a single memory.....

Copacul zburător

Ne aflăm pe un bloc înalt o înălțime a durerii iar jos e beznă scăldată în fum… ne aflăm la un capăt ne uităm unii la alții cu teamă și așteptăm parcă o mână din filme să ne-mpingă spre necunoscut… e noapte. Eu sunt copac înrădăcinat în viață când mă agăț de viitor cu degetele calde. Desprinse din petale de catifea cad fulgere ce mângâind mistuitor un complex intelectual dispar din nou in negura de sus căci văzduhul e plin de lacrimi noroase… Copac fragil am devenit frunzărind între hârtiile făcute din mine acum când cade pacea peste sistemele de legătură dintre concepțiile moral-politice rămân ideile singure și se plimbă pe stradă întrebându-i pe oameni dacă nu ar avea nevoie de încă un stil de tortură psihică urmând ca apoi să se stabilească subtil în ziare și cești cu cafea… Nu  am terminat de scris scenariul căci e prea josnic pentru înălțimea la care mă aflu la propriu... Opunând rezistență pierderii de echilibru lansez din nou pastila de stare iar vrajba reîncepe… mai sunt și altii pe bloc … cei umani s-au sacrificat de multă vreme … s-au aruncat de aici ca să trăiesc eu.  Un zâmbet intră în contraatacul lacrimilor de compătimire iar apoi fiori cuprind iarăși văzduhul. Apare umbra din istorie, imaginea eternului supraviețuitor... Luptăm ne împingem, te temi, suspin , oamrni și gânduri într-o dezorientare spumoasă. Singurul orientat este cel ce acum își pregătește cafeaua… se joacă cu spuma, iar spuma e doar coconul pasiv al unui incipit revoluționar. În întuneric nu poți face fotosinteză … eu sunt copac dar rădăcinile mele sunt adaptabile… pe bloc nu mai am stabilitate dar de mă voi înălța voi străbate lumile ca să depășesc întunericul învingându-l într-o altă dimensiune, într-un alt plan astral…  jos, sub crusta de intuneric nedefinit, un suflet curat se va
mira într-o zi la vederea unui copac zburând fericit în eter…

Nonsens

Nonsens 

E abstract, deci timpurile verbale probabil nu vor fi in concordanta … 

… citeam o poezie si ma dureau coastele arse din neindemanarea firii... Zaceam acolo pe gresia rece si ascultam cu drag din metaforele tuturor spalandu-mi creierul cu lacrimi tandre pe cand intrarea in viata nu era mai mult decat o poarta distrusa de preconceptii si prejudecati distructive in abstractul lor. 

Asemenea scrierilor lui Gabriel Garcia Marquéz, realismul de tip nagic al unui miraj de culoare amestecat cu politica si idei inovatoare ale viitorului erau ambientul cromatic al acelei clipe dizolvate in efervescenta magneziului… Emulsia poate si ea sa fandeasca asadar va alege doar sa existe in purpuriul unui singur crepuscul fiindca schimbarea continua o poate bulversa… 

Iesind dintre randuri, cu pasi marunti imi iau avant peste literele ce incretesc mintea… cand trupul se curata cu lapte, componenta magnetica a fiintei se va reinoi prin reincarnarea cunostintelor dintr-o inteligenta soirituala intr-un nou simbol al zilei cotidiene... Cartea e veche… termenul de ferfenita defineste lanturile din cel mai dur material care leaga particule de masa cuantica, atomii nedefiniti ai acelei carti…… si cat imi e de draga… ea, exemplul varstnicului cod al maretiei si literele ei cele diferite si cele explicative… 

O gheata se imprastie in trupul care neafectat de cianura de aur a kui Marquéz plange zapada mesteacanului lui Esenin scriindu-si amintirile ca pe un viitor curent al gandirii… doua minute mai tarziu cand constientul se trezeste din nou in mirosul scolaresc al celulozei vanilate, o fuga surda paralizeaza complet amintirile pana la prima ciocnire… nici macar savantul iscusit nu-si da seama de acest joc din piese de imaginatie format de fapt din informatii precise si structurate care prelucrate asa cum trebuie duc spre subtilitatea perceputa asemenea unui scop in sine iar mesajul ramane un total nonsens pana la proba contrarie….… 

ILMARINEN'S STORY

Inspired by the Finnish legend of Ilmarinen's woman of stone, of silver and gold

She shines like silver in the night
Thy work, thy art, thy love, thy might
Kissing the soil you bravely start
To build her with parts of your heart ( intro by Walkyrja)

Ilmarinen, Hero of a land! Long journeys haven't helped at all to calm thy wicked heart and now thy love cannot rejoice in any maiden's voice, in any blissful colour of the sun not even in the young years on the run, and down you go with fear into the abyss of the fallen ones who have it all yet do not know where it shall take them by the end of times.... 
 Now, the night has set her wings of protection upon you as you work hard without a stop, without a blink, without a sigh... How can you work without closing your eyes, your beautiful blue eyes at least for one second to look inside yourself? Or are you just not there? It's just mechanics... The work of hand four soul is given to gold, to stone, to silver, to her the one that shall be yours, the queen of all the wars the lady of your dreams, the maid of all your tears. 
  Your hands are bleeding like the hands of destiny, of purity, your face is red with the delight of power and prosperity as stars unite upon the sky to bring supposed lucidity and thus thy greatest work is done, the smile, the cry, ferocity... Her golden hair, her silver lips, her metal eyes her little wings the detailed features of the moon the brightness, hours of the gloom, thy kiss, devotion for the gold and her affection of most cold for there was no one to have told thou age was yet by far to old to think creation can revive with cuddles and a carving knife...
Extravagance and elegance suffocating exhuberance the nonsense idle's inocence thw worker's meserable defense... You stand bewildered by untrust wondering how long shall it last till she may hold thou in her arms, till she will rise to show her charms. But there is nothing to it all but coldness in thy enormous hall the sound of ouls sad and severe the morning sunrise and the fear.
Covering face with both thy hands the magic moves away, a dance, another cry of terror strikes and blood does not drop from thy bites.
She has no voice she has no pain she has no heart she has no name... she's cold she's bad she hurts she stings and unobserved it's you she kills... Thou moves along a lonely path hammer in hand and thoughts of wrath and thy work falls into bits.. No more sweet tears no more of this...
"You did not love my mindless art. I made you but had not for what. You answered to none of my calls. Be gone down where the river falls! Down where the water quietl is, down when there's none to hear thy tears. Down I shall throw you down you'll go... Down there where no human has to know"...
He takes the wretched in his arms he throws her down and her he drowns. His renegade still doesn't cry. She has no way and reason why. 
He knows that nothing had he meant , that for him nothing had she felt and then he looks again for love and for advice from gods above....

Ilmarinen, I cannot say a word about you, not just now... You're cruel and dear to all that breathes but you chose to give your heart to the lifeless... I'm down the lake, the thousandth one writting a story that may run from here to an eternal line of suffering, of wish and sorrow, of days of past and of tomorrow, I'll paint your work with words of honor until my last and darkest hour....


NOTE:
THIS IS A KIND OF METAPHORICAL POEM WRITTEN IN A POST-MODERN STYLE ( AS YOU CAN SEE THE VERSES AND RHYMES ARE NOT ORGANISED IN A DEFINITE STRUCTURE) I HOPE THAT YOU SHALL ENJOY THE INSPIRATION THAT I EXPERIENCED WHILE CREATING THIS LITTLE PEACE OF POETRY WHICH I SEND WITH LOVE AND JOY TO ALL THE HEARTFUL WHO CARE TO READ IT.
MAY YOUR DAYS BE SUNNY!
MAY YOUR NIGHTS BE STARLITE!
 

How to feel propperly

  When I was in your arms the world was mine and as I was spinning it without minding the final effect thecsurface started to break into small peaces.... And down we went and dow my love the minute killed passion from fire to ice from the -all- to the nothing
  You let go, went away and as my thoughts would try and reach you my head would always shake in a drop of purple violence as if to throw you away in glorious gold, in bits of hair and DNA all mingled with vice brought down to the floor by indifference... Such pain in my teeth the empty space restarts a set of nervous impulses causing numbness to fade away being replaced by a state of awareness. The stitches have been removed but the weather is changing... Without applying to the natural convenience that one's body position might offer, the head alone , trying to deceive the heart starts independently triangling in another colour rearanging softness  instead of mentally abandoning the whole case and sending it over to past deals stored minutioisly but somehow getting left behind.
 The marvelous machine now starts purchasing the information, transfering the links, the beaming lights, the you into me, the touch, the flow, the tears, the feeling and with a swish of intense disaprooval prepairing a self-destructive contest between the mechanical remains of your presence and my defensive acts.
  The blinking of blue eyes, back to the starting point aware that my exam has failed me when teeth regain their sensorial atrocity sending a musical and painful beat of revenge to the brain. Collapsing on flowers a rehearsal, another play and another dream that makes a black night even longer wrapped up in old parchement smelling of ancient culture revealing the letters that I dread to understand.
  Like an archeologist, trying to be marter then the ones who already know it all, reinventing what I want to want breaking the order with my interpretation spreading the letters all across the sky with a video camera trick... I might pick them diwn later but my hand isn't large enough for the time being....

Lecția de zbor

Ieri am învățat de la tine să-i respect pe cei din jurul meu, iar astăzi primesc drept răsplată zâmbetdle celor din jur. Apoi, când ai.văzut că eu pot face lucrurile dorite de tine m-ai învățat să zbor. Am zburat până ce am căzut într-o libertate plăpândă, o stare în care nu mai simțeam foșnetul vântului pe fața arsă de soare, nici ploaia pe care mi-o aduceai pe petale de curățire interioară, nici natura care-mi curgea prin perfuziile vitale dar pline de viață de care depindeam zilnic. Simțeam inima mea cea umană cum se găsea mereu înconjurată de un alb pur, de mirosuri ciudate și de întrebări existențiale. Pulsul creștea pe măsură ce se apropia cerul de drumul meu, pr măsură ce viziunile delirante asupra raiului puneau stăpânire pe argintul miraculos din care Zeii Vindecării făureau în mod continuu pe o bandă ușor defazată tuburile cu oxigen și aparatura medicală a tehnologiei moderne...

  Iată visele mele! Privește-mi camera! Intră în ea și vorbește cu susurul trist al munților literari creați de o imaginație sistematică spre a strânge lacrimile în cărți legate cu fir de viață stoarse de timp și de obiseală... Ciocolata a rămas neterminată pe masa de studiu, masa anilor, a obiectelor banale care ascund în sinea lor abiotică, energia unui suflet perpetuu... Ciocolata aceea, dulce și artistic sculptata de corpul străin ( viitor ceresc) care cu o seară înainte avea nevoie de stimularea endorfinelor, a rămas acolo pentru a contempla camera fără să știe ca parașutismul, de fapt zborul atât dinspre cer cât și dinspre dragoste are consecințe similare în caz de greș...  

De la grădinița am învățat că nu trebuie să facem rău jucăriilor care se vor trezi foarte triste în zbsența noastră și vor discuta între ele despre râutatea stăpânului lor. Atunci râdeam fără să cred. Acum mă macinâ un gând: noi strângem atâta viațâ în noțiunile ßi obiectele ce nu sunt vii încât într-o zi se prea poate ca simplul fapt al existenței particulelor din noi să le ofere și lor dreptul de a fi cineva, nu numai ceva... De aceea am renunțat ls poveștile cu păpuși... Mâ sperie vioiciunea din ochii lor indusă de cursurile de scriere decorativă pe care le urmează si iștrii povestitori, ciudații favoriți ai binecuvîntaților copii, sadici uneori în inocența lor... 

  Îmi pare rău că am deviat de la subiect... Doar că mă tulbură temerea intrării în propria mea cameră prin ochii tăi... Te iubesc nespus dar ochii tăi îmi rămân străini... Cu toate acestea m-ai învățat să zbor și să cad. Îți mulțumesc pentru această lecție neprețuită căci, iată, acum eu mă ridic ușor ușor și am să mă înalț mai sus decât vreidată am crezut... Îți voi face cu màna dintr-o stea și o să-ți laud talentul de dascăl! Ce maestru bun poți fi!! Nu știi cât te admir!! Ți-ai făcut discipolul să se ridice mai sus ca tine!!  De aceea ești atât de prețuit în lumea ta, în lumea mea , în univers... De ce-ți curg lacrimi pe obrazul cel frumos și nobil?? Tu ai vrut ca eu să zbor ! M-ai învâțat cu dăruire și mi-ai explicat că nu trebuie să fiu încirdată ci doar să respir relaxat... Dar nu te teme ... Am lăsat respirația în urmă căci eul meu e mai ușor ca aerul și mă înalț ca visul spre infinit... Îți place acum de mine în noua mea dmensiune? În erapa zborului meu existențial? M-a înălțat prea repede legea ca să-ți mai aud răspunsul dar oricum... Îți mulțumesc cu drag pentru lecția de zbor... 

WORDS... THOUGHTS... CONFESSIONS

1. AARON MILLER- THE JUDGE
I know your usual text.... you all say the same thing but you never have anything better to justify your deeds... You, you my man, you stabbed,  washed your hands in blood and preached all kind of nonsense to convince us that you're not guilty... My man, you're going to the chair, you'll sit down and you'll have one more minute to say you're sorry before they push the button and blow your brains to Heaven... We have to survive in this world and more like you wondering around here won't do us any good... Is it moral ? Is this the right thing to do? Only god knows that... I have the name of Aaron... i'm the messenger of an Old Testament personality here, even before Christ himself so I guess I'm getting some inspiration from on high... Whatever your defender says in this room is completely invalid to me although I should respect his opinion, his years of intense studies concearning the law, the order of things and Human Rights.... But all in all I'm the one to have the last word so dear man, don't takeit to seriously... There have even been others before you so nevermind... No matter what happens the day will pass... You'll get up but you'll never go to bed with a conscious mind... No... No more will that happen... The decision has been taken.....


2. NUMEN STRANGER- THE THE ONE WHO KILLED ME
I'll not start with my CV because you already know it all... She didn't know anything.... She was the only one who never new that I was dreaming of rainbows and love above the stars of the night while we were walking, while I was holding her hand in mine, keeping her heart warm from the pain, building our world from our most beautiful words, contemplating her figure in the shadows while the fire was dancing over my soul throwing me down into an illusion... That night she made my love come true through a poem that she wrote dellicately on a peace of my heart just so that I have her forever as she was right then back in time at our secret place where we would see one another and admire the angels as they flew to a Heavenly better world... I told her : 'My love, don't you want to go there? I shall soon follow" ... and she said yes.... Her smile was sincere her diademe glew and diamonds were shining as she was begging me to take her there... Naive little child didn't understand my meaning... She believed in Plato's philosophy so the world of ideas was her guideline in life... But still she approved my deed as the blade was softly touching her, gently, kindly with all my love and passion... She didn't scream... It didn't hurt... I'm kissing blood even now as I speak, for all my words are hers forever and even Plato whall agree with my heart... Who could be against love? Not even you, Sir Judge... Not even you... You're sending me there with her without me struggling to do something in advance... See? I always liked the easy roads and now I'm free... I'll soon hold her in my arms and show her that I wasn't that late... I just hope she wasn't too lonely in Heaven but I know she's waiting because her love for me can even change toe exactest of mathemathics and the most structural principles of the Universe.......


3. ISABELLE KINGSTON-ME
I know I love you , Numen, even if your sirname is that of a stranger... My mother always told me not to talk to strangers... They are dangerous, that's what she said... But for me you're not a stranger because I always believed that you, like me and like everything we have around us , come from a different world, a world of perfect ideas that Plato left to us as inheritance through his marvelous artwork... When I said I love the idea of loving you you should have listened and payed attention.... Even now I feel guilty for your tears... You, my beloved, you changed my integrity into fulfillment and took me to another state of thinking and I shall always thank you for that... I'll wait here because I can't get through without you... I'm glad the judge has made the right decision just so that we can be together in a  better world... Don't worry even if your credit card is stained with my blood it can be cleaned and maybe another person will use it... Make sure it gets to someone in need and ask your mother to clean it for you... I'm not a walking prejudice so I'll be waiting at the border just in front of the awesome light... Don't be afraid, darling! It won't hurt... It didn't hurt me at all when you helped me exist as a superior form of intelligence, now it's your turn to change yourself from a phisical structure into a magnetic wave of feelings so send all your love to me with your last breath as I sent mine to you... I really hope you can still feel it... I love you dearly and I shal see you soon within the world of wonder and peace which will this time be our truth rather than an imaginary way of expressing ideas........

Shadows beyond thinking

 ''Step asside from the way of a better man than you
So you fall at his feet he's the one who betrays you
It;s the servant's devotion for the decay.... STAND UP!!!'' (Amorphis- Alone)


The world... this world always spinning around twisting and turning the sun on its way without remembering when to stop or  where it has to go... Poor mind of the poor wrath unspeakably filled with furious contradictions over the edge of a creditcard probably based on a self esteem philosophy that none but you could ever understand... I am myself and you.... yourself of course ... just a twisted brain in a jar ready for yet another examination ... spilled allover the classroom walls forth and back and nowher but in a little slide of informational orders for the untrusting ones who don't exactly know why they have to kill after getting up every morning.... Feeling unable? No worries! Society can sort it out for you. All you have to do is forget that you even had a mind of your own and leave it all on the edge of the rainbow while your darkened journey on a bed of rusty flowers takes you up to the most highly appreciated level of confusion... Game on!!! A joystick, a flash of waves, magnetic vibes and once again you become that nice little video puppet dying and reinitiating your life with the switch of a button or even at the remarcable touch-screen controlling hand of the wisest user ( ... and who said I didn't have you just at the power of my little finger huh?)... ''Laughter... laughter... all I hear or see is laughter'' (Metallica- Master of puppets).
Hear that? Can you hear it??? This forrest is too big for you... You'll get lost... Oh, look at this soul all messed up in a bite of chocolate ... Poor thing... Let's get some help!! Heeelp !!! Cries that pennetrate the night cutting the skyline like the knife of justice breaking the order of the stars and reorganising the arrangement of the world all together in a big huge crash of themetaphore fallen above your head... eternal voice of an eternal singer showt out the words STAND UP!!!!!