Music Share #7

Could a night owl ever become an early bird?

A long time ago jealousy of people waking up in the mornings alongside the first strand of light having an unmatched commitment to their daily schedule and immense energy level was spinning through my head.

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The Antagonist

Oversees purple sky bottling up the stars. Get it home, leave it to shine so you will find – the life once lost, far away behind.

Poker face among crowded streets smuggling the pocket filled with goods off your secret dreams. A hood covers the face of a criminal who is being chased – ripped off himself, restrained for the sake – the past which out of reach.

Devoted to sacred that to you is unknown. Repulse inferior part that brought contempt knife piercing my ribs.


Painkiller effects were delusional, imagined resolve. None could erase or just change what should yet couldn’t be done.

Fairytale, the antagonist.

Too much noise – the curse a loner have to face, then he’s hidden plotting revenge, a plan – simply tired of humankind. This one’s yapping just spitting meaningless chunks of words, the other perceives muscular trends – bulking hardly, the mind gets wrecked.

Annoying music played and played until the new track comes true – even mosquito flying near the ear at night has more naturality. Wish someone recycled this sort of plastic.

I want this and he wants that, grow the money like a money-plants! Let it be the value dig down beneath, a cemetery you loved. The night is my domain, I’m the ruler of those ghosts behind a leather faces – seeing the pattern.

Call me, the chapel bell rings cracking the silence and so he’s on his way. To stand against those foes disrupting the sleep.

In which I could see the way I wanted to live.




Evening stream

Outspoken prattle the voice wired up – attach the question you wish you could ask. Buzzing chaos of words the anxious response – too late, let’s celebrate.

Freeze me, freeze and lock up in the place no light gonna get through, let indifferent being, be then punished for the lie once said to you.

Those wrapped up memories of childhood times when the days were moving in the childish style, company – a gang – of those wee screaming boys, none of us imagined where the future falls.

Years along the line the paths are disclosed for those of us are never to be crossed, again and again believed in this myth – friendship last forever, but the people change.

Sometimes wonder if it would be my fault, the decisions were made and the friendship got lost, due to my own – indeed truth it is – a journey I decided to chase.

Fired up in a mood that brings me cold shivers, spreading the aura that freezes the time. None of those things I lived to experience is a waste, at least not to me.

Outlived the pain and the depth of sorrow, enlightened with fire brought down the path. Outgrow off mainstream considered normal, so then abnormal I have become.

Ruthless, indifferent, ego of mountain size lash out to those standing on the way I once passed. No questions involved what’s behind the facade, the simple man loving, yet quite complex.

In the world where I and many of my kind have to be scorned and thrown into the jar, we’re a niche that nobody wants, as claimed before the lie gets its cost.

Do you want to be my friend? I will cut you off. A million trials, second chances goes on. So sick of it I do admit. Don’t you want me? Pardon, I will leave. The lesson is being learned although against the feeling, the jar remains locked until worthy comes.

Music share #6


The one silver drop of rain after a never-ending drought that sucked off the moisture – turned the ground into sand dust which is thrown right in between the eyes.

Joy and pleasure accompanied by the feeling of growth.

You survived, root those moments until the season ends.


I’m sweating my pants out – who the hell could ever imagine 30 degrees in Scotland?!

Now a little bit more serious, lets elaborate on a topic which I have swept to the corner, but what is being ”talented” actually means?

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Humble once thought of the power he has:
reading those pages, the notes holds the past.

Scenes, oh scenes, painfully reflected a subconscious truth – opened my eyes and saw nothing, but you.

Twisted, wired in the mess we bragged for:
all that remained were the cliche words.

Roundabout, directions, street signs follow up –
couldn’t it become more dynamic, meaning time.

None is turning to look back even now:
there are no reasons knowing emotions are out.

Wish regrets stab my back, back then:
until the day I’ll ghost out, like I never been there.