Rain/Regret

Looking out the door, the rain pours over the mourners
Parading around the grave of sad relations
And a little bit of cookie corners.

No body turns, and yearns for
The sleep that won't ever come
Burning in the waters, the bright lights of gold lust.
And the love, unjust.

Lonely is the sky, the open window lets the rain in
And the winds from whimsy nightmares
Lights up the submarine candles.

The crippled angels of some Atlantis
And the broken lyres fly between our bodies
Budding baby blooms sing
In the shady choirs of dusty wings.

Lover, it's never over,
My kingdom for a kiss to the dead
My warmth for all that I said
My soul for the frail dreams I made.
Oh lover, it's never over.

Err, not exactly my regular super-awesome-psychedelic-garbage. If the words don't fit in, it ain't my fault, it's the goddamn brainsuckers.

Aftermath

          The sky was clearing up, blue, with tinges of grey. It would rain, probably. An aeroplane went off, outsiders going back to safety, going back to their wombs. The streets were now visible, tattered, ragged. A single boot, military maybe, was standing at the middle of the road, like a sentry. A pair of glasses, the skeleton of a half burnt SUV, few TVsets scattered here and there, a torn national flag, A few broken movie cameras, hundreds and thousands of stones, big, small, and bullet pellets. And blood. Here, and there. Dry, and wet. Some of it has lost its brightness, its meaning. The others still looked like scars on the face of the Earth, not to be erased soon. He looked around, shaking his head. Five days of demonstrations, and then one evening of military marches, and it's over. And all of this mess that's left, now he has to clear all of this. All this blood, bullet, and evidences, he, a single man has to clear up, with one mighty broom. The government must be a fool, can't they clear up all of this with their tanks, and machineguns?
           It starts raining. Cool, moist rain. The natural cleansing agent. Now she'll wash away all this dirt, all these stains, and all this blood. But will she be able to take away the memories of those, who are still alive? He doesn't think so. These stains are here to stay. And so are these people. He turns around, his work here, for today, is over. For now, it is over.

To the people of the ongoing Egypt Revolution, and for the commemoration of 20 years of Tiananmen Square protests.

Breaking The Ice

You sit inside the sounds
Looking out at the sky.
I sit inside the silence
Looking out at the ocean.
You speak not, the silence might break
I speak not, the sounds may be awake.
Finally, with a crack
The ice breaks
And the quintessential rules
Yellow, moribound, fake.
Now I sit inside the sounds
The sky is the limit
Now you sit inside the silence
The ocean looks blue.

Sleep Over (Song of a shop manager)

Can you see the light bulbs?
Red and snotty flames.
Zero adds to zero,
Don't make a fuss about it.
The  colours sing so lightly,
They are a happy lot.
The people change over and over
But the faces are all the same.

So give me coffee and TV
Please, quickly!
They talk too much
I'm going blind
And I'm brain-dead virtually
Sociability
They're hard enough for me.
Take me away from this big, bad world
And agree to sing to me
So I can sleep over again...
So I can sleep over again...
So I can sleep over again...

Yard Of The Raven Girls

Through the yard of the raven girls,
Through the gates of gold
The glittering of your eyes fade.
And the winds of young summer dance
In the heap of golden hay.

Fear, here we come.
Oh yes now! Fear, we may come
To the new age of sound.

The sea of heart, and the art, is your beauty
And the innocence, oh the purity.
The taming seas and sour tempest
Are the diamonds, and the rust
The eyes, yours is the best.

Fear, here we come.
Oh yes now! Fear, we may come [So run, run, run, run, run]
To the new age of sound!

Two-headed Boy

Two-headed boy, with the silver strings attached
The light just went off, now its blacker than black
They hear you tapping on the sandstone glass.

And I am resting my ear on the dark
And I am resting my ear on the dark.

Two-headed boy, a song for the dead
All pulleys and weight, and the tears slowly fade.
And the sorry sweetness follows.

And the clowns start to turn once again
And the clowns start to turn once again.

Two-headed boy, the needle stings in your heart
A radio screams, a song for your dreams
And the waves join the two sacred hearts.

The eyes dont move anymore,
They just climb up the stairs
Into the sky above my feet
and floating electric chairs.

And I am resting my ear on the dark,
And I am resting my ear on the dark.

Two-headed boy, there is no reason to grieve
The world you just wished for, is wrapped in golden sleeves
And left beneath the Christmas trees, in the snow.

Just take it and leave us alone
Oh, two-headed boy, just leave us alone.
Leave us alone.

This.. err... is the story of... err.. I really have no idea what it's all about. Do tell me if you understand :)

War

           And as the sun kept setting on the west, the winds tore away the last bit of smokes from the dying chimneys. And the deserted streets had orchestrated nothingness spread all over themselves, waiting for that one man only. And he kept running. Running through the town, and all the dreams living inside its stomach, being in a hibernation. The evening creept in, and the wind blew harder, and the ominous siesta continued like a hum of the faraway engines at work. He ran up the stairs of a seemingly deserted building. Empty buckets, dusty garbage rugs, and the toothed stairs sitting there, waiting for him. And he ran up the stairs. He reached the 6th floor, and banged open the only door standing. A white figure, in whites, lay there, tired, maybe asleep.

"You came back." She stated.
"Yes. Where are they?"
"They left, long ago."
"Who were they?"
"Does it matter?"
"Doesn't it?"
"Not anymore."
     
               He moved to her side, and running a hand over the bulging stomach, he said, "Yes. It doesn't, not anymore."