intoxicated

i had some strange events going on. few days ago, i was trying to talk. in my head, i heard myself talking. but i did realised that people around me were giving me strange looks. i started looking for a mirror. i found one in the basement, i took it up to the light. and again, i started talking in front of it. i noticed that my lips aren't moving.than i started screaming. strange, i had the same image in the mirror. than i think maybe i am just deaf. i went to the washroom and i start carefully to clean my ears. deep ,attentive , until i could feel the towel into my chest. happy with the result, i go back and scream. still nothing.. but i did not gave up, i still have my hands, and they can move . so i took a box of crayons. best colors that i was able to find. i take a immaculate white paper and i start drawing. i didn't like the result, so i put them on my tongue, so they become moist and soft. on the drawing, it was better.so i draw, and i draw... i don't remember much. when i open my eyes, i am on a hospital bed.i see some people, i don't know them. a nurse is saying something, but as much as i try, i can't hear it. so i am probably deaf, as i thought. i decide that it is time to find out what is going on, so i try to speak. no reaction. maybe i am mute. the panic comes, and i start blinking like crazy. somebody noticed that, and comes to me smiling, bringing a mirror. i try to get up, and i discover that i am all tied up, unable to move my body. the doctor smiles again and puts that mirror in front of me. wow. my lips are yellow, and blue and green and violet. like the crayons. all that drawing is on my lips. and the doctor starts writing something on a piece of paper and shoves it in my eyes. "intoxicated with colors - incurable case"

intre maci

nu este infrant. fara invins. nici nu ar putea fi.nu este zbor . fara cadere. nu exista imaginatie fara simturi. nu este pas usor pe marginea raului fara ...aici imi vin in minte autostrazi pline de masini, de energie , de nervi, de destine, de bucurii , frustrari si tristeti. sau mult gol. dar aici nu am dreptate. pas usor pe marginea raului este si va fi. altfel de ce ar fi raul. de ce ar fi irealitatea apei, mangaierea brizei, copacii drepti si indoiti de timp. este pas.. pe marginea raului fara nimic. aici contrazic regula. este si va fi. asa cum este pas pe albul norului. ... mangaierea ierbii ude.. mirosul pamantului . covorul de ace uscate si umede din padure. ... nervii fara zambete. plansul fara ras. albul fara negru... ce ar fi noaptea fara ziua? cum am mai asculta linistea si tulmutul tacut fara adevarul crud al zilei? cum am mai astepta vitalitatea, soarele si rasetele fara linistea si tulburarea noptii? intotdeuna am iubit "adevarul e undeva la mijloc!", caci cum poate fi adevarul strigat de pe munte sau negat in pestera? ...iar acum trebuie sa fac pasi mici intr-un camp plin de maci. rosii , neobrazati si vesnic acolo. cand e vremea lor..caci nimic nu e mereu dar mereu vine inapoi. sa dansam intre maci...sa dormim intre maci...sa visam intre maci... sa-i plangem iarna si sa-i iubim cand se intorc plin de obraznica roseata.

common sense

my best friend told me once to put my feet on the ground. my favorite writer told me the same. and my people told me the same. the common sens. now, who am i to fight you all? who am i but a shadow, to tell you i do not believe you? still, with all the proof you are giving me, i can't stop not to walk on concrete. it is good when i have the chance to step on earth, but on concrete? the cruel, earth killing concrete? i just can't. it is melting the self, it is choking the ants, it is making everything grey. grey does not exist. it is just what we choose as a compromise. grey is not the wind, not the air, not the forest. it is not the happiness that doesn't need an explanation and does not need the barrier. the human form. the boundaries. the ugly reality. why would i live there? i am nothing but a slow whisper, nothing more than wind making the leafs sing. of course, if you ask about the song of the leafs... ill tell you. it is not the leafs singing, it is the humid smell of the land, it is the steps of the wolf and it is the human crying. that is just because it is us hearing it. ask a leaf, if you don't believe me... it will tell you. we are all the same, the big chorus. taking from you what you do not know you are giving.

acolo

garduri, tarcuri, negru, taios sub pamant, departe, intr-o galerie ganduri insiruite si scapate rostogolite ca margelele si ratacite intre crapaturi departe, jos , unde arde pamantul unde aerul e mort si rau si nu il plange nimeni acolo. doar acolo e pace. in miezul pamantului. ganduri nebune, bolnave , indesate in cutii de oamenii cei indoiti liniste.. liniste fara ganduri doar acolo.

there

all confusions in my being is what I am. a delusion. I crossed the river, the plains, the hill. I am walking up the mountains. and i do not feel the air slightly, I just feel it. I do not care about your opinion. you are not entitled to one. it was an adventure to get here. I'm here, and even if it were for me to fall into the valley, I know the way back. and however I would like to explain myself, you will not understand. you can not read the map, even if I come to your room to stick the map on the wall. you, with your clever mind and your tricks. do not stay here. down in the valley with you. step on what you want, because if you walk on clouds for sure you will subside. I do not hate you, I just pity you. all of you.

primavara?

orice ai face, faci bine. sunt o furnica, vad viata simplu. viata e simpla, nu e un ghem de spini , radacini si vant. viata e o livada de piersici de la medeleni. orice, oricine , ..., viata e tot livada... si gastele, si mingile olgutei... si rasul olgutei, si sfiiciunea monicai. si complicatiunile danutului cel simplu cu suflet mare si tremurator. nimic in plus... nu m-as putea transforma intr-o floare in livada? sa nu-mi para rau ca vine iarna,...

vantul care sta pe loc

il trage de mana pana la liziera padurii. respira greu. totul e prea verde. verde dur si rece. aerul doare...ii lasa mana si o priveste. batranul cu barba alba se aseaza pe iarba ca intru-un culcus rece de primavara. si incepe: -sa stii ca am vrut sa viiaici. stiu ce e in mintea ta si ai nevoie sa intri sa te pierzi -dar nu vreau sa ma pierd. si de ce nu vii cu mine? -stii de ce nu vin. si gandeste-te , si spune-mi tu de ce trebuie sa te pierzi..spune-mi ce o sa faci cand o sa te pierzi. ... rade si arunca o frunza in nervul vantului.. -am sa ma regasesc! au trecut douz zile, crede... nu-si da seama ca sta acolo imbratisata cu zecile de ani. nu a observat cand au crescut radacinile. incearca sa-si duca mana la frunte sa alunge un gand rau, si nu reuseste.o secunda de panica, doar o secunda. o amintire a unuei vieti visate. nici o tresarire , nici un miros, nici un simt dinainte. .... ....si incepe sa rada cu hohote , rade, rade, si vantul incepe sa faca un dans nebun, un dans de cercuri albastre. bradul isi intinde relaxat crengile si incremeneste din nou cu ochii in zare.