fragments (Exit)

...Jim thought about Sarah, about the scream after shooting; it could be hers. He nervously swallowed a larger gulp, chasing the scary thought away. He wondered why he has so much nonsense in his head today. He could not relate it to the luck of alcohol, for the last five minutes he had more than enough of the medication in his system to cure him from the delirium. He was very nervous. And he did not know why?
Tom continued to talk about unfairness of life and being OK with it. All was so distant, so far away from Jim’s attention, and only the sound of Tom’s voice, mixed with Frank Sinatra’s playing overhead, was penetrating this strange blissfulness, a blissfulness of the abyss when you are already on the way down and fear is not a factor anymore. It was the blissfulness of surrender, when no one and nothing can touch you anymore, because Death already staked her claim. The sound of the police siren bounced in Tom’s scull from left to right, adding volume with each turn. Jim realized that while he took a short cut to the bar, the police chaise ran a circle and met him here.
In a few more moments car crash somewhere close announced its arrival. Then more cars with wailing sirens, dropping speed in seconds, stopped abruptly outside the bar. Jim was repeating in his mind “it’s just a bad dream… just a bad dream…”
Suddenly the walls of the bar start to move closer and closer, collapsing, invading Jim’s personal space. Still, suffocating smell crawled in his lungs, swelling inside and cementing his airways. Jim needed a breath of fresh air immediately; he was about to collapse. His lungs were struggling; his brain was starving for oxygen. He was on the way to the door in a split second, coughing vigorously and clenching his throat with both hands.
Forceful punch opened the door in a moment when Jim was about a foot away from the doorknob, leaving him hidden from the slightly limping man, rushing inside. The door rebounded quickly back. Jim let himself out. He noticed the blue pick-up, leaning on the electric pole.
“Hands behind your head!!” from his left.
“On the ground!!” from his right.
To his horror, Jim realized that he is a suspect. With the speed of light and pounding heaviness of a thunder all the pain, appointments and hardships of his life surfaced up. and suddenly he saw a door, an exit. Perhaps his destiny finally looked upon him with pity; perhaps the shocking reality of the moment woke him up and granted clarity, never known before. He made his decision calmly and fast. He thought of a wrinkled grocery bag with the Santa hat, that he stuffed earlier in his back pocket... . He reached for it...
“Nooooo..” from his right.
“Bang! Bang!” from his left.
“It’s a f…ing Santa!” from his right.
Violent blow hit his chest. He felt no pain. He was falling backwards, tilting to the right. He automatically extended his hands to break the fall. He never touched the ground. And the Frank Sinatra’s voice was drifting into the fog, into the darkness like the last boat on the waters of Styx.

letters (happy birthday)

Life, chiseled in stones,
dropped in the wilds to rot.
Winds sift through the sands
and seeds the fragments
without unity, without sense…

Your scent seeps through
the bleeding time.
hours like a heavy droplets
rolls into the void of past.

… sun rises above the horizon.
New life fragile and precious,
vibrates at the edges.
The beads of memory disappeared
In the sand of the desert.

letters ("until the end of time")

“until the end of time”

The song without words.
The frame without picture.
My eyes without tears.
My time without count.
…forgiven and not forgotten.

The night falls down
to the ground… my friends…
I see them passing by.
Sometimes, I wave goodbye
And sometimes I remain silent,
and just watch them disappearing
into the fogs of the past.
Sometimes I missed them,
and my heart dips in my memory,
dances with the shadows,
Talks with the far echoes that bounced
From the wall of forgetfulness.
And sometimes
I just want to be alone and silent…
in the land of dead.

letters (the well of sadness)

I am in a free fall into the well of sadness,
reaching for my happiness
that slipped from my hands
like a blue bird in the sky.
Only one feather is left behind.
My hands feel its silky luxurious softness,
lost presence, sweet memories, while
I am drifting deeper
into the well of sadness.

fragments (drift)

DRIFT
The feeling is strange at least and nothing to compare to.
It is Real… THIS IS IT! And I know it right away…
I do believe in God. And first time in a real one,
The rules of Death differ from the rules of Life.
I believe in a merciless and indifferent God.
My body is crashed and ironed by the forces from hell.

And, please, shut that hovelling bitch!
It isn’t a grief, it is a fear that I may live. ..
For god sake, can I have a moment of attention?
This is me, unconscious and nude, wet and soapy
from unfinished shower, on the cold fucking floor.
I knew, I should carpet this hallway, but no!
“I wanna marble. I wanna marble.”
Look at the picture now! She sits in a comfortable chair.
Uncle Tom hangs her a glass of water, kids by her side;
And I am in my own vomit down on the fancy stone.
Not if that matters anymore.

I can bet you a buck, if I would have,
that one of those panicking assholes, running around,
would step on my face. Just a matter of time.
Hey you, watch up! …Speaking about time. What about
some CPR. The time is running; it is limited for me.
I don’t have an eternity anymore, unlike all of you!

The “experts” will tell you, that the moment of death
will flush your entire life in the front of your eyes.
The tunnel of light will attract and carry you through
Or, if you’re one unlucky bastard, will dump you in sewage.
They will add angels or devils celebrating your arrival at the end.
I can tell you the truth of this moment. It is cold,
uncomfortable and frustrating with one hovering wish.
I wish it would be over.

Do I hear the sirens? One of them called 911, after all.
I hope paramedics would get in time. And this horrible pain…
I hear the sirens closer and closer.
Wait a minute, where do they go?
Why the sound faints, drifts away?!….

Paramedics are happy: they can’t perform the miracle.
it is too late for resurrection.
At this time the Lazarus stays where he belongs.
They put nice show with all the trinkets from the hat.
My wife is happy; I didn’t make it after all.
Those two kids are crying bitterly and sincerely.
But I don’t know why? And I don’t care anymore.

letters (no more)

NO MORE
Your words, wrapped in the softness of your voice,
recorded for eternity in my memory.
I remember them all. They were my wings…

I soared to heaven, it is an empty place.
I walked the earth, world has no color.
And life just a strange and senseless affair.

The seasons don’t change anymore.
They all stay motionless and stagnant,
Somewhere between hell and heaven,
Waiting for another chance, for a new beginning.
Time vanished like the flame of a burning candle.
Gray ashes rest undisturbed in a safe place.
There is no wind to blow it all away!

I wish the rivers would start to run backwards
And guide me back, into the time that was before.
I would pull the plug, I would flip the switch.
And all would be different, but I would be no more…

letters (transcendence)

TRANSCENDENCE
Cold breath of the early October,
dried leafs whispers beneath my feet.
…no memories left, just a remembrance.

…restless, sleepless… lifeless.
The life betrayals and lies
have me pinned down to my bed.
Toxic fumes expelled from my heart.
The milky clouds of poison rolls trough
every cell, like a fog through the valley.
I don’t need a gun; I just stay here longer.

The night was long. Sticky cold sweat
saturated my skin. I am feeble!
My heart is silent; it is luminous…
Crispy gasp of the windy October
and a remembrance.

letters (the war)

THE WAR
The war in Afghanistan. How much do we know about it from the comfort of our living rooms and TV screens? Occasionally, when our leaders stroll in for a visit, we suddenly remember “yes, we are still there”. And that little silly thought evaporates before our consciousness can dwell on it ( because the TV screens already glamour at you with commercials).
I am a pacifist in nature, but my country wages the war and it says all, there is no golden middle. But again it is far and surreal. Until one day, when your loved one or your friend ends up there.
For a few months I start to follow the news reports from that side of the world. No questions, it is wonderful to know about all the progress and hard work that was done there daily. But my greatest concern is about which side of the fence the explosion took place. Mind you almost on the daily basis.
Most of us blame the societies in all problems in the world. Our opinions, morals, stands, etc. being manipulated by the societies we live. And there is truth to it. Though, it does not exempt anyone of us from the personal responsibilities and should not be an excuse for boredom and infantilism of our emotions.
One day, when I read the news where the soldier was killed by the roadside explosion, I experienced it only as information. And this thought horrified me. I suddenly realized, if my heart is not bleeding and my mind is not shattered into pieces from that news than there is something wrong with me, forget the society and all the intellectual crap.
For Christmas my son got a gift from his friend, US flag that was raised in the sands of Afghanistan on the September Eleven, Two Thousand Ten. I took it in my hands, smelled it and held it to my heart, thinking with tears on my eyes, how many wives, mothers and daughters hold those flags to their hearts and how much tears those flags can absorb.
I am thinking about the lost lives in the explosions and my heart aches for every human being ripped apart with such a violent force. Although, those who choose to depart such a spectacular way, they should. Our hearts and souls mast remain with the innocent ones whose choice was to live and protect others. And we must pray for those who pick up the body parts.

fragments (monologue) cont.

.....I guess you got it by now, if you are me, your life sucks. Yesterday I met a nice guy in a movie rental store; we had a short conversation about favorite movies, favorite actors, etc. And we had a lot in common to the point that he asked what I do for living. I should have told a lie, anything, but not the truth. As soon as he heard RN, he pulled his slightly overweight belly in, exhaled long “A –a- a- h” and disappeared.
If you are me, people prefer to stay away from you. Not even one person would admit that he does not like you because of your profession. The truth is no one likes you, period. And why would it be different? You know the names and dosages of all of his antidepressants, he gave you the list. He admitted to the “blue pill” and you made him name it. You did it just for fun; you are a human after all. He told you that his mother committed suicide and father died from the liver failure. He told you that he is a casual drinker and smokes a half a pack a day and he knows that you at least double all of his addictions. His body? You touch it, pock it, and pinch it while completely ignoring his presence. And I wonder why my husband cheated on me and the guy in a movie store ran away. Sometimes I want to run away from myself.
I just finished my shower; I’ll be in time for work. I am so glad that the traffic is so light at this time of the day.

fragments (monologue)

monologue
The morning creeps like a slow train over the busy intersection. My body refuses to move and my mind offers different kind of advice, such as: call in sick today, be late and blame the broken car and my favorite one, “why don’t you try to commit suicide?” The hold is that I have to get up for it and don’t have the willpower and time to hold my breath long enough.
It is too early by any measures, the sun hangs somewhere above the ocean between the two continents. The city is sleeping. But if you were me and you worked for the local community hospital, it would be your time to get up, three days a week. And don’t even try to use the broken car excuse when you are late, because if you do, it is a definite sign of a burnout. And if anyone ever told you that you can take a vacation, change something in your life and get better - it is total bullshit. Let me guide you through some insights, if you burnout you burnout, ashes here and ashes there, ashes everywhere, even on vacation. Don’t even think that one day you will spring back to life like a Phoenix. Personally, I would have difficulty to choose between ashes or being ablaze over and over again. I guess that both cases have their pros and cons.
I mentioned already about my work. There are a few details to add to it. Hospitals are the strange places to work. Firstly, those places do not have any schedule or sense, they run on crises from minute to minute continually. Secondly, even if you go there as a visitor, most likely the thunder will hit you overhead “CPR team stat….” Is this sound familiar? And just in case if you wonder, it always means that someone’s heart just stopped. I avoid those casual hospital visits as much as I avoid the funeral homes.
If you happened to be a RN and work in a hospital, as I am, your body runs on high level of adrenalin from the moment you enter the place to the moment when you exit it and close the door behind you. Well, sometimes longer, if you happened to cut a few corners during your twelve hour shift due to the busyness, fatigue or who knows what, maybe you are PMSing or you caught your husband a day before, comfortably cheating on you, while you work your twelve hours. At least you got some comfort to know that you’re not losing your mind, as your husband tried to convince you when you found an extra toothbrush in your bathroom. You know now, she had moved in part time.
I guess you got it by now,....cont...

fragments (true love)

True love.. I can string all the cliché
and tie over my neck.
If you may wonder what is it?
I will say
it is a burden, a chain,
a lock to the prison door, where
the keys have yet to be made.
True love is true to itself,
blind, burdensome. A nagging beast
with a psychological misalignments
and psychiatric conditions.
It’s a bone eating cancer, a disease
that inflicts pain and kills.
Torture for its chosen victims.
It needs a host to live.
It only pretends to be a lover.
It is a malignant growth from within.
True love is only true to the Self.
But then…
when the bird flies away,
the flop of her wings
sends the invisible wave
that touches my face…
and disappears…

letters (you let me die)

YOU LET ME DIE
Your silent
Call, I fear,
I long. I …
Run away…
In circles.

Shadows on the wall,
Fortune tellers,
Magician guards the door,
Decapitated rabbit in the hat,
Clowns with tickets.

I run in, run out.
Mud on my feet,
My heart sings.
The night without
Lights. I weep…
In your embrace.
You let me die..

letters (welcome to hell)

Dante missed it all.
His soul
was spared from the firs ring,
disconnected from the spiral
and looped into itself, snake biting own tale.
When the one day
filled with the lifetime of sorrows.
And each day repeats into a new scenario.
Snake pit filled with venom, nothing terminal
as you would wish.
Just an extra viper tomorrow.
days piles, forming mountain of years,
until a lifetime compresses into one day,
into singularity, just before the Bang.
only then you can transcend the loop
and enter the Inferno.

fragments (airport)

Airport is the place where the old is left behind and the new has not happened yet. It is psychologically a neutral land. Airport is the place where all ties and connections are gently severed. I say it gently because we all believed in the bright future. We are arriving home with new attitudes, expectations, rested or exhausted, we do believe in home. And when we are leaving home we do believe in the excitement of temporary changes and promises of a new land. Historically, some of us have never arrived, but statistically we barely consider that chance.
Airport is the best part of any trip. I like the experience of detachment, even if it is just a temporary event. I like to be early and spend some time in the airport. I like to watch the departing flights, how they split from the land and imagine those last filaments of attachments dropping down to the ground from all the people on board. Now they are a close group of strangers bonded by one destiny for hours or longer. To be in the air is a thrilling event and not natural for humans. We always must be grounded. There got to be a reason for that. There have not been a man who did not envy birds’ ability to fly, but again what if they, birds, just have been expelled into the air. And all the energy they have they must fight all of the G’s of gravity that separates them with the surface of the planet. There is no room for extra fat, extra muscles or extra brain. What’s to envy?
Airport, I love the place. I am free from my worldly possessions and all the relationships. I am free because I seldom fly with company. I am alone with the airport. Before I board the plane I am in a free flow, I drift with all the passengers, moving chaotically in every which direction like molecules of water moves frenziedly but precisely to reach the boiling point. And notice they are passengers, they are not people or members anymore; they are not citizens.
We are passengers. I like to be a passenger without a definite destination. I allow myself to imagine the place I wish to fly and arrive, the places I want to go. I imagine meeting people or a person, I want to meet. I want to board the plane I am not assigned to and I like to arrive in the port which is waiting for my arrival. Until then I like to be in the airport, because it is the closest place from that special land where I am going to go one day.

fragments (way to cheat evolution)

I’ll put it simply. Simplicity is the closest objectivity one can touch; it is the shortest way to the truth.
There is a frequently adjusted guess for how long mankind lives on this planet. Some say for a few thousands of years, others propose a hundreds of thousands and I recently read the article when the latest genetic research trace some of our genes as far as about tree and a half billion years back in time. And it seems that most of this time man was evolving physically and only fairly recently evolution tilted into the favor of consciousness. The quantity caved under the pressure of quality.
Some of us believe that all started from Adam and Eve. It is hard for me to see any logical purpose of this glorious act of God, like he was unable to foresee which turn this road would take later. And let face it, he gave us only promises and punishments. Only the questions…long way to reach the sweet enlighntment.
Some people entertain the notion of an advanced alien race creating perfect slave race for a gold mining and serving their other superior needs. Considering our pathetic life span, we needed much more time to multiply to the number that would be sufficient enough for those assignments, unless they polluted all drinkable water on the planet with some kind of fancy genetic cocktail and humanity made evolutionary jump almost overnight.
Perhaps it was much simpler. Man is not the fastest creature alive, nor the strongest one; man have no venom stored to repel the predator, man have no night vision and his newborns are much more vulnerable then offspring of other mammals. Therefore, man needed to develop other survival mechanisms to continue his kind. And he did; we are the proof of it. I think that man just learned to prioritize his actions: wants versus needs. As you would guess, wants always ahead of needs. It was nice way to cheat evolution, still is.

letters ( I was safe..)

I was safe in the sanctuary of my hiding place,
in the refuge of its protective walls,
in the green mist, in the lake of tranquility.
When I sensed the prowling presence,
…footsteps that disturbed my internal silence.
Without eyes I couldn’t see,
without hands I couldn’t touch.
The painful blindness of my existence
Spin my consciousness into the light of the moment.
And I wept, and I bled, and I ached
My mind, in timeless wonder, let me swim
From the waters of the womb and surface
to your presence, to the sound of your footsteps
to the smell of the sand mixed with the blood.
…your blood.
I wonder whether mine
would smell the same,
when mixed with sand.
I guess it depends
on the quality of sands!

letters (patience...continue)

…….One may think that the person who can execute swiftly, competently and effectively has no need of patience, because he has already swept through the method, process, or his practiced and organized manner of doing things, be they mental or physical. A person, who is impatient, is a person who knows what he is doing and therefore executes his action immediately and with great expediency.

This perspective is logically sound; however it masks or mistakes the process of completion with the moment of initiation. When the decision is made, when the action is initiated, there are other elements enter the play: swiftness, efficacy, lightening like movement.

A person of a great knowledge and competency but impatient is a poster child for the disaster, because knowledge and competency just a signposts but nothing ever repeat itself. Impatience is blindness versus patience is wisdom. Wisdom not to trust yesterday knowledge because it is outdated and never true anymore, there are the others and unknown variables entered the picture. Nothing is ever the same and nothing is as it appears to be. To understand this reality is easy but not enough.

The person must be aware, alert, self-critical and self-confident to stay on course, to use his ability to maximum and compensate for his shortcomings, to be able to stay out of the ditch. This problem, with enough effort, is manageable. Another problem is more complicated and beyond the control of any man. There are more active forces in play. Those forces confuse our language, teach us to misuse the meaning, replace our clarity with dullness. Those forces deliberately misplace the values and qualities; they simply keep us all in a ditch that progresses into the mass grave long before we die. A social conditioning is a name for one of them. And this subject is a topic for the next letter.

letters (patience)

What is patience, what is definition and what is interpretation, what is the truth about it and what are the false assumptions? The people who use that ward, in most cases use it in a manner to cover up their incompetence and they use it “because they are incompetent”. So, what that means in turn, is that they present patience… as a false virtue, something to be worshipped.

Moreover, often laziness and unwillingness to perform under the pressure and to perform fast, hidden under the mask of patience. Waste of time is not patience even if it dressed like it.

In fact, a lot of people are unable to differentiate between patience and cover-ups. And this is understandable. The average person lacks the tools he needs to understand his actions in the perspective of time, in the moment when that action takes place. And this is only the time when the direction could be adjusted and outcomes could be changed.

However there is a true patience. If it understood correctly and cultivated, it becomes a virtue. It is the patience of a silent snake before the attack, a frozen tiger before the jump, a stillness of the finger on the trigger. A moment of hesitation before the final decision has been made, before the point of no return has been crossed.

There are certain elements required for an effective performance: knowledge, practice, ability, desire, determination and more. It is general knowledge. But then some runners run faster and win the prize, while others with the same skills and determination left behind. There is only one element which transforms the performance into art. And that element is missing in the later case. It is patience.

The patience allows the performer to capture the moment in time when the universal forces are in sync and the direction is favorable…..

fragments (time loop)

The tight coil of the time loop is about to snap.
And stars are ready to run apart into oblivion,
Collide and demolish itself into galactic dust,
Ripping real and imagined into nothingness
Until the Last unpaired and unattached would remain.
The Last one: invisible, formless and nameless,
A silent witness of the past glories and dismays,
Perhaps just a thought, frozen and curled
Into the circle of repetition, doomed into eternity
When time had perished like a puff of smoke.

letters (falling in love)

You are at the threshold of a new life; you are looking to reintegrate yourself into the world you left many years ago. If I am to tell you one thing to do, I’ll tell you to take some time off, a half a year or maybe as much as a whole year and allow the transition to happen. Normally, we believe that we have the power to do things in life. This belief stemming from the innocence of the ignorant state, we spent most of the time. The best and the only thing one can do in this situation, to be available.
It is difficult to realize, that one must be available even for Death. Of course, none of us have a chance to run away from Death nor from Life, it will hunt you sooner or later. What one can do is to become available/unavailable, visible/invisible whatever is the objective.
If your destiny is looking for you, you are going to be found whenever you are. On the other hand, if you are looking for your destiny, you would have a better chance if you have some strategy where and what to look for. In this case, you must make yourself visible and available. It is to be done by moving around a lot, one place could be a trap, unless you are the lucky one and your destiny just happened to stop at the same geographical location. Don’t fear to lose the opportunity for such a meeting. If your destiny will spot you, you’ll have no chance to outrun it.
Since you are looking for a specific reintegration, your case is much more complicated. Not only you must make yourself visible and available for Life, you must fall in love with it and the feeling must be mutual. How one can make Life to fall in love with him? Love is a mystery and falling in love is an effortless event. Although, not every one of us will have an experience of such an event.
One sunny midmorning you are leaving your house. It is middle of the spring: birds are happily chirping, skipping from the branch to branch. You notice a bunch of beautiful narcissi that opened their heads over night and wrapped the ground in a white veil. You suddenly sense an incredible stillness in the air. The fragrance of the blooming trees lingers so low and so thick that each of your inhale feels like a sip of nectar; you can feel how it enters your bloodstream and touches every cell of your body with warm pulsating light. The waves of a minute vibration ripple between your hair follicles and toenails. The limits of your body melt and dissipate. Your mind caved under the pressure of your feelings. You know if this state will persist any longer you will never collect yourself back together. You are in fear. And suddenly something light lands on your face, gently caressing your cheek. You take it in your hand and see a little feather. The world around you changes into its usual clothes. You walk about your business and you know that your Life was in love with you just a moment ago. And you will go back into that moment as time will pass and each time you will find that it is your sanctuary where time had stopped.
It is my story of falling in love with Life, yours would be different but feelings would be similar. It is easy to miss the moment when we walk around immersed in our foolishness. Make yourself visible and assessable.

letters (a dream)

A dream of YOU
Such a strange and wonderful gift…
I pinch myself into the light of the day…
Spring springs into existence
with such a graceful ease
O sweet intoxication…
my senses overpowered at ones
My joy, my fear, my pain…
your scent seeps through the bleeding time…
Sun rolls into the valley…

fragments (exposure to elements)

If you expose yourself to the elements, you expect to get at least wet. And what did i say the other day about the lightening and purity of one's heart? O yes, beware of a thunderstorm! Only the heart of am exceptional purity can withstand the hit of lightening without damage. Are you capable of such a fit? Am i capable of such a fit? Is my heart pure enough? Or despite my hard work and long path i am not ready yet? Was my descent into the land of dead and beyond helpful or harmful? Did my complete surrender and disintegration into the ashes, left just ashes behind, or hope for rebirth? Am i ready to go into the thunderstorm and take the hit?