A better place might not exist

The stories of a tripping man may blend better with whiskey on rocks and some good tobacco

While The Sun is sitting on the docks and your eye admires a dancing shadow on the porch  

Near by the sea, where every heart is torched by fire bird armies in a cheap-ass hotel.

Out there it’s said there is a cell where unheard thoughts emerge in freedom cartels

The story pusher tells it so!  Not long ago there was a time when we were zipped, our bodies too

Our flesh was covered in polymers, our mind in images, glued to the brain by Empty TV.

But here on the beach, gathering thoughts, mixing pots, our soul will be bleached

Erased shall be from our life all those fabricated strifes by the man’s employee.

We’ll be surely safe when share a life on earth and not in grave will be tax-free

And rulers of the world united for a game of Monopoly, a killing spree of joy and fulfilment

Of laughs and breakthroughs to the other side.

And naked we will touch the sky and dance over rain and clouds, dance with the gods and dance with the saints, dance with the demons, dance with Pan and Lucifer, dance in the sound, dance all around

‘Cause it will be another Earth spinning like never before, a free-of-time space where all will embrace

A more emphatic approach on us and ours, an opened door that leads to knowledge.

The stories pop out from flower filled balloons and squash the evil minds

Transforming bad into a pillow fight and soldier in pyjamas shooting their water guns;

On the front line, wired rose fences will hide sweaty copulating corpses bombed with pleasure grenades and drips of honey will fall in ones mouth, for that lay back and let the storm blow over the shack.

‘Cause the Sun is not laying on the docks

Now, our world is full of dull flocks

Flying by rules and laws

Nothing flows, border strict

Where is the blues?

Mixed illusions explode leaving scars

And a morbid confusion of well-being

That hurts when peeing

Shipping emotions behind bars

Heads down, while the cold steel licks

The skin and rubs the brain

Everything planned to be plain.

A face without name, a number in the frame.

A place where all the ugly people meet

That’s where I want to drop the beat.

The stories of a rambling man may blend better with whiskey on rocks and some good tobacco.

I roam around reality

…and after all, why should we dream in this dreamless world?

White walls wait in vain a paintbrush, a hand with sand,

shattered glass canned in bodies, familiar faces hold deep scars past recognition

in faded paintings of the past, kept for unknown reasons in lugubrious feelings

and it all comes down to this. I light my spirit with a handmade satisfaction,

I rub my brain off on sleepless nights with friends like Johnny and Jack,

I lack the sense of now and here when sharp shards of the past sting my flesh,

and blood  gushes to my brain with floods of ruined houses.

Days pass like whores I never paid,

towers I never knew how to climb,

 lips I never knew how to approach and it seems time skips over credits

and my present needs certain edits. Naked stories dash in from spread shaved legs, sweet sweat and honey drop nipples, Anaïs Mountains explored in hot summer nights, a rush of adrenaline

and then it all stops. I wake up in solitude.

No drama here, no love, no desire, no pain and everything

melts in a green pot.

Old and dusty memories mixed with dreams and hopes until the mirage transgresses pushing my reality towards a floating state. I try to stand against the wall; I fall on the ceiling from where I see me on the coach. I am a miller of emotions and experiences, a jack on the road,

a philosophical monkey in a human body. I kill my hopes with useless dreams for that I call it off,

I run away from these false prophecies,

 I hide myself in realities embrace

…and after all, why should we dream in this dreamless world?

morning transgressions

And he watched the bird fly two times over his head before leaving the lake. The wind was blowing leafs in his burning cigarette. He watched as his brain was trying to light up some memories. Once the fire started he could see all those lakes from the past where he used to swim and dream under willow trees. And birds were flying high and low. And they had this specific chant that he never heard before. Those days were covered in gravy and colored in pale gold as the grapes that were standing proud over the hills.

He left the lake without looking back and in ashes he kept his past, in labeled jars. The days were his acceptance of this world. Of the present he lived. The hours were the minutes of the past. Yes, time was moving in a fast pace but he, as an individual, as flesh and bones and all other related human components, he had a slow timing. He was happy in the future for the good things in the past. Thus he couldn’t clear his head of the mist that conquered his sense of present.

Before bed he stares at the dark lip of the night with red eyes and sour mouth with no one around. But there are another approximately 7 billion people in this world. So solitude is only a desire, a choice that some go for.  Sleeping alone with the human race can be quite demanding.

The mornings are excuses to overdose on coffees and cigarettes. He lights up 5-7 in a row and pours the black liquid into the mug he got as a gift from the bank. It’s said that some people out there are equipped with this super power of guessing in the coffee grounds. He stares at the dirty mug. There’s no more coffee left and the pack of Pall Mall is almost empty. He thinks about faces, gestures, people, a black cat, sores, infidelity and hard to get drugs. About doughnuts and other delights. He stares at the mug and tries to see the future.

Poor, poor boy he doesn’t know that future is already created by his present actions. The rain drops on his shoulders are not to blame for his misfortune. He’s the one that acted without a plan/waited in vain/ for all that remains are unfinished journeys and drained lakes.

Tired eyes seek a body that departed; slow hands couldn’t grab in time a soul that dissolved into a memory. He grabs the beer with both hands and away the liquid flows throughout the system. And then the brain stops for some time in a numb state. In this time of thoughtless atmosphere the heart appears and jumps and kicks the brain. With pain the next day he wakes up to find himself alone with 7 billion people.

Poor, poor boy he loses people through the night in vast and empty spaces after his brain created crooked mazes. The problem stands in too much thinking. He strives for simple love igniting nights with smokes and drinks. This theme is suitable for the trembling hands and crippled heart. He is a burning match that fades in the dark.  On fjord seagulls pair in the rising sun and he’s satisfied with the image. Sunbeams embrace him warmly in the cool air of a 6 A.M. This keeps him awake, accepting another day.  

P. de la...final

Parfum de cadavru căţărat pe pielea voastră moartă
Cuvintele ameţite-n degringolada de interjecţii
Se pierd în serul materiei administrat cu injecţii
bolnavilor. Planeta P a fost o artă!

P de la...păunul ce ţipă şi dansează venirea Ploii,
Strălucitoare culori în ispită vă cheamă.
Dar cad, se uzează; pe cer se ceartă norii.
P-ul ştia, dar voi? La final ve-ţi da samă.

Sa fie rock!

Rock City Open Air 20-23 august 2009 (FETESTI!?)

Uimit, dar nu foarte....

Era necesar un festival metal de mare amploare....Se cerea...Si iata ca din click in click, din link in link....ajung sa descopar inca in stare embrionala, ceea ce se contureaza a deveni unul dintre cele mai indraznete proiecte de anul acesta.
De vazut locatia care mi se pare mai mult decat interesanta...Fetesti...pe malul bratului Borcea...
Daca pana acum,Fetestiul era doar un punct de referinta pentru a calcula distanta pana la mare, se pare ca in august va fi destinatia finala pentru multi dintre noi.
Au fost confirmate si primele trupe din cele aproximativ 60:
Agathodaimon
Amon Amarth
Ancient Rites
Brainstorm
De Profundis
Eastern Front
Einherjer
Ghamorean
Hanzel Und Gretyl
Hollenthon
Lord Belial
Moribund Oblivion
Sirenia
The Cold Existence
The Revenge Project
Theatres Des Vampires

What's next?