are you ready

who is the king when the lights will go out,
who is the master of masters?
what will you do when you’re scared to shout,
guns in your pockets of plaster

what will you scream when you’re utmost afraid
will there be names you’ll be calling
will you be proud of creations you made
will you convert into holy

spirits of mountains and spirits of seas —
whom you belong to when dying
have you been thinking what happiness is
have you been literally trying

people you’ve preached to will never find out
backstage of courage and fear
so if you have to stand out from the crowd,
you are alone there, my dear

acceptance

let them exist, let them all just exist
wicked and beautiful, crooked and shy
sing in their showers and plant their trees
somewhere among them am i

somewhere inside very prominent crowd
i can create an identity of
somebody who’s neither sorry nor proud,
somebody ready to love

bus stops forgotten have stories to tell
i can imagine if cardboard could speak
what if we talk to each other as well,
wholesome, ambitious, unique

so if you think that i’m slightly too much –
poems too deep and emotions too loud –
look through the mirror, my arrogant judge,
let me exist in the crowd

day number one

on the day number one of this summer
i have swept all my floors very clean
she’s a terribly witty newcomer –
noone knows where the hell she has been

she has owed us the dresses and dances
under moonlight and sweltering rain
but let’s never forget of the chances
we’ve been given to never complain

wipe your forehead: it’s sweating with anger
hug your knees: they are covered in mud
if you’re stumbling – maybe that’s tango,
and your knot is a blossoming bud

i have also been crying too often
in between all the lessons i learned
this is why all my muscles have softened,
this is why i got light in return

on the fifth day i bet we are ready
for adventures prepared ahead
i am greedy for them, i am heady,
so my sails have been colored in red:

that’s the color of courage and passion
(choosing these over anger and war)
choosing sunlight became an obsession –
try: i bet you’ll be craving for more

enough

there was one man who said i can, 
and so i thought i should
dream big, create a major plan
and master adulthood

but on my way i found some more
fine reasoning to dreams:
this life is our to explore –
that’s easier than seems

so choose your heart before your mind
and let it shape your choice
whatever reasons you will find,
let nothing stop your voice

if lonely – find someone to hug, 
if overcrowded – hide
when wires mess around – unplug
and call it all a ride

when i was asked what has once been
the biggest gift i got – 
it wasn’t things i’ve touched or seen, 
or miracles one brought

i said it really was enough
when someone has believed
in anything that we can love
and love we have received 

handle with safety

i’ll handle your story with safety. i know it’s fragile. 
i won’t accidentally spill it or let it break. 
whatever you’ve trusted me with, it has been a while, 
since we have been wide awake

i know that you’re anxious. i know you can’t answer why. 
i also am sure it gets better, if you just let.
the secret of moving the universe is to try – 
there’s nothing more clear than that

i’ve seen them, the quitters. i bet you’re not one of those, 
they often get buried in arguments – or a grave
one day i got tired of saving them – i suppose, 
they didn’t want me to save

so when there’s a messy old planet – don’t even dare, 
begin with yourself, start with tidying up your room, 
and out of the darkness that haunted you everywhere
i swear you’ll begin to bloom 

go

the story didn't yet begin,
when you were forecasting its end.
you were so desperate to win
and scared it's going out of hand

but they were desperate as well,
who tried to stop you from the ground
what were their reasons, hard to tell,
but they have won another round

next time you're braver, if they're bold,
next time you're learning not to care
whatever anybody told,
you have your aim and getting there

whatever anybody thinks
is really none of your concern
so if you dreamed of having wings,
go act like being airborne

before you do

getting ready: a cup of tea
or a permanent water mug
index finger, a control key
or an input and jack to plug

naked skin versus naked brain:
guess which one will be hurting more
no one promises you remain
just the same as you were before

expectation / prediction / hope
handkerchief or a heart-warm laugh
that's a legal permitted dope
you have chosen to suffer of

that's a moment before you hear
something you have received today
get prepared to disappear
have the pleasure
of pressing
PLAY

My dear mistakemaker

Then again, everything is a journey, sweetheart (sourheart, bitterheart, poignantheart, choose any). Your skillful swimming in the irritating dark winter mud – be it literal melting snow with dirt or your melting soul, discovering dirt underneath. Your mesmerizing falling down, my dear mistakemaker. Isn’t it beautiful to see us fall? Take a photo of it, make the journey eternal. 

Our path is full of spices. Bring some adjika to the front when the world gets too full of cinnamon. Love through tabasco, soothen it with some sumac and peppermint. Yerba mate is pulling your hair: get out of bed! Upcoming spring is getting nowhere without you. 

Pat this old city on its brown shoulders. I know it got empty. If out of you both one has faked its anabiosis, the other one has to wake up. I know it doesn’t sound like it at all now, but don’t you think it could have been the only way to teach you? Disagree, blame it on the cold February wind, continue acting like a lonely warrior, fight the shadows. Realise it has always been you who kept going. 

Words you are definitely going to regret are a part of the journey as well. Master of useless feats noone is going to learn about, be brave and call someone when you think it’s the right time to. Because one of all the times you gracefully fail is going to be right, after all. You’ll nail it – once that very moment you’ll think you’re inevitably falling might be the moment she’ll be on her way to pick up your call. 

don't interrupt

seen but not saved: so meet me at where i am:
i have gone years, and this is my highest peak.
i am aware of being so small and lame.
i will keep going to hear you before you speak.

i am so grateful i’ve come here, so hear me out:
sometimes that race to perfection’s a heavy brick
often at times when my wish is to shoot not shout,
one inappropriate word is a heavy kick

i am as clear in front of you as i might:
sometimes the rescue is not what i’m waiting for
any idea how dark is the way to light,
fully encompassed by aching for more and more

yes, i’m beholden you challenge me to refine –
please, just be patient, cause many before you tried.
nothing as simple as drawing a finish line, 
nothing as hurtful as making it amplified

i will keep going to hear you before you speak, – 
i am aware of being so lame and frail.
i have gone years, and this is my highest peak,
part of my plan is to make it a fairy-tale.

never too late

your coloring childhood books,
the first of your soft toy idols,
is where you have got your looks
and colorful painted titles
of novels you dream to write
and publish, at least a couple
you’re sure you will get it right
you’re supple

ten years before you grow
moustaches and beards and ego
the world is your greatest show,
the stages are still illegal
it’s fifteen before you get
anxiety that’s so trendy
so easy to get upset, 
so handy

in twenty you’ll throw that trend
in trash can of eco plastic
live balanced, don’t overspend,
stay versatile and sarcastic,
use hashtags, obey the stocks, 
eat clean, make your peers ecstatic
the books were just childish talks
in attic

then somewhen in late July
it’ll dawn on you, gray-haired, fifty –
you’ve spent all your life to try
to prove everyone you’re thrifty
it’s never too late to weep
on chances you fucked up neatly,
on those you have hidden deep,
completely

while hugging you tight and warm,
your grandson will say you’re boring
too rusty to be transformed, 
too tacky to get restoring
remember creative state
of writing, as if you care?
it almost became too late
to share