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when i write some  poetry nowdays ,i don't think at poetry at all

if someone will like to ask :hey what's all  this poetry on about?

 some unexpensive buzz and  rotten feelings?

I  would  have to say :mate , is all about beeing seduced by words

and when i'd get tired  with it I will just say :

well this is for you, for the only one you, that is liking to beeing seduced by them , by blody  dreamy and unmetarial words

i really don't like poetry at all

is too sophisticated and forgotten somewhere in a book from that old shelther

is not here anymore

this blody time played with all those gifts that were given to me

they were posesing me ,but now I just look poor

where is the glory of the poets from  another days ?

I ve got an email though i miss my pen

I ve got an soul but i have got  no piano

i have a language that it cannot be used.

I have everithing but is not enough.

I still love rains  and orange juice.