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| Monday, November 26, 2007 |
| who i am |
tired,
on the verge of trading places
i reconsider painting faces.
lost,
in the middle of a nameless crisis
i submit my protests in the book of lies.
and i go back
so i can be again,
free from prejudice
and hoping to get a new name:
i am Speak,
because i say these words,
i am Fight,
from winning all your wars.
i am who i want to be,
not because i can-
it's what you made of me. |
posted by Maharet @ 10:27 PM   |
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| Wednesday, November 21, 2007 |
| portrait of the artist as a lunatic |
i criticize myself, and go back to the beginning
once every two minutes.
when i'm old enough and
my wings are ready
i'll jump off the building i designed.
stardust on my nails,
fire and brimstone in my veins,
i change my mind
once every two world wars.
call me a genius
or call me at midnight,
i'll save your soul and hold grudges for you.
tired of predicting the end of the world
i take a long pause
and smoke another cigarette,
once every two light years. |
| posted by Maharet @ 10:42 PM |
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| Monday, November 19, 2007 |
| don't |
don't worry, i'm slow to react
but i'll come around
and hit you back.
don't miss me, i'm quick to forget
still, somehow i'll get back
my mind.
don't fear me, i'm harmless
but i'll knock
the shit out of you.
don't find me, i'm not here right now,
just wait,
you'll hear me scream your name
when i feel like it. |
| posted by Maharet @ 6:57 PM |
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| Friday, November 16, 2007 |
| tips on how to... |
"the best things", i say,
"are affordable and you get them at
half price,
when you least expect".
this is a conversation i've been having
with myself for years,
but i still
can't find the point.
cruising between duties,
i pick my favorites
and the rest of them i put them
in a sordid category,
the "i'm too young for this" one.
cracking jokes and heads as i
take over the world,
unknowingly and unaware
of my flaws,
i build my walls,
criticism-proof.
i'm too good for you,
still,
i can teach you a few things about
taking advantage of your own
indifference.
just leave a name and number
and i'll get back to you,
when i get my head out of the clouds. |
| posted by Maharet @ 7:30 PM |
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| an aggravation of my own confusion |
the voices in my head are all vacant,
i only hear a mumble,
a whispering crowd confusing me.
i can't tell what's real anymore,
so i wait,
i stop.
running around in circles,
praying for a revelation,
i get dizzy,
i fall.
the voices in my head are on strike,
i can now hear everything out there,
but inside my head i'm lost,
so i wait,
i stop
. |
| posted by Maharet @ 7:30 PM |
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| Saturday, November 10, 2007 |
| saturday night drunk monologue |
"How have you been?"
Yes, I hate my voice too.
With your self-sufficient smile,
narrow minded and slightly drunk,
you pass me by,
slowly enough to see my practiced indifference.
If I could, if I had a way with words,
maybe I would have given you
something to dream about.
But, here I am, hiding behind a bottle of beer
and setting my frustration on fire,
pretending I light a cigarette.
I'm speechless,
you're drunk by now-
we'd make such a nice pair,
but I hate the way you look at me.
This is
not good enough,
I'm not drunk enough.
...
Oh, and I don't like your shirt. |
| posted by Maharet @ 6:27 PM |
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| Thursday, November 8, 2007 |
| me |
i am me.
and there's nothing you can do about it...
look at me,
as i slow down and hear you talk
about me.
stand up, think out of your box and speak
to me.
i can take everything, i know what you must think
of me.
i know all the words to every song
that you might have written
thinking
of me.
i can give myself up and still
you're not even half
of me.
try harder, and i'll let you fly
with me,
maybe.
blame
me
for what you can't do,
hurt
me
for what they say to you,
you're not me.
we come from the same place,
but
i'm faster and wiser,
catch me.
hold me
down,
i'll give you a head start,
follow me,
observe me,
hate me.
and
when i break the cycle,
miss me. |
| posted by Maharet @ 1:24 PM |
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| About me |
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Name: Maharet
Location: Resita, Romania
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