For My Love. "Now you are my life "

I didn't even glance at the doors. There was nothing else in the world but him again -his arms curled under me, his sweet breath on my face, his lips just inches from mine-and there was nothing that could distract me now, newborn vampire or not.
"We're going to tell Alice that I ran right to the clothes," I whispered, twisting my fingers into his hair and pulling my face closer to his. "We're going to tell her I spent hours in there playing dress-up. We're going to lie"
He caught up to my mood in an instant, or maybe he'd already been there, and he was just trying to let me fully appreciate my birthday present, like a gentleman. He pulled my face to his with a sudden fierceness, a low moan in his throat. The sound sent the electric current running through my body into a near-frenzy, like I couldn't get close enough to him fast enough.
I heard the fabric tearing under our hands, and I was glad my clothes, at least, were already destroyed. It was too late for his. It felt almost rude to ignore the pretty white bed, but we just weren't going to make it that far.
This second honeymoon wasn't like our first.
Our time on the island had been the epitome of my human life. The very best of it. I'd been so ready to string along my human time, just to hold on to what I had with him for a little while longer. Because the physical part wasn't going to be the same ever again.
I should have guessed, after a day like today, that it would be better.
I could really appreciate him now -could properly see every beautiful line of his perfect face, of his long, flawless body with my strong new eyes, every angle and every plane of him. I could taste his pure, vivid scent on my tongue and feel the unbelievable silkiness of his marble skin under my sensitive fingertips.
My skin was so sensitive under his hands, too.
He was all new, a different person as our bodies tangled gracefully into one on the sand-pale floor. No caution, no restraint. No fear -especially not that. We could love together- both active participants now. Finally equals.
Like our kisses before, every touch was more than I was used to. So much of himself he'd been holding back. Necessary at the time, but I couldn't believe how much I'd been missing.
I tried to keep in mind that I was stronger than he was, but it was hard to focus on anything with sensations so intense, pulling my attention to a million different places in my body every second; if I hurt him, he didn't complain.
A very, very small part of my head considered the interesting conundrum presented in this situation. I was never going to get tired, and neither was he. We didn't have to catch our breath or rest or eat or even use the bathroom; we had no more mundane human needs. He had the most beautiful, perfect body in the world and I had him all to myself, and it didn't feel like I was ever going to find a point where I would think, Now I've had enough for one day. I was always going to want more. And the day was never going to end. So, in such a situation, how did we ever stop?
It didn't bother me at all that I had no answer....

nights in white satin

My current state is starting to seem less and less interesting, not to mention amusing. I thought everything has an end but it seems there are some things which manage to avoid that. I wish I could avoid disappointment, insomnia, sadness; No, it's not lame, it's too casual and plain. In the end what really matters is how I fight and deal with everything coming in my life at this point. Again no, love has never left me for real, just took a long and necessary holiday for my own and personal content.

"Nights in white satin, never reaching the end,
Letters I've written, never meaning to send.
Beauty I'd always missed with these eyes before.
Just what the truth is, I can't say anymore.

Gazing at people, some hand in hand,
Just what I'm going through they can't understand.
Some try to tell me, thoughts they cannot defend,
Just what you want to be, you will be in the end.

And I love you, yes I love you,

Nights in white satin, never reaching the end,
Letters I've written, never meaning to send.
Beauty I've always missed, with these eyes before.
Just what the truth is, I can't say anymore.

Breath deep
The gathering gloom
Watch lights fade
From every room
Bedsitter people
Look back and lament
Another day's useless
Energy spent

Impassioned lovers
Wrestle as one
Lonely man cries for love
And has none
Senior citizens
Wish they were young

Cold hearted orb
That rules the night
Removes the colours
From our sight
Red is gray and
Yellow white
But we decide
Which is right
And
Which is an Illusion"

Behind brown Eyes

Yes, it may seem unfair, for me to say I feel hated or faded...So many people have it worse, but actually how can we be sure about that? Are we interested in them? Do we know their sorrows just because we seem them falling apart in front of us? There are so many things behind each thought, then how can we be sure there aren't other, more powerful and ragged stuff pilled up inside or behind a normal smile.I can admit it, I have never believed there was such a large scale of different problems all with the same prospect or treatment. And still you don't know how it will affect you. Unfortunately, the only people that may know how to describe this feeling, are those who had been on the ground, those strong, independent creatures who may as well be described as "above the average human being". Nevertheless, it must hard to accept such a meaningful compliment, isn't it? It's like telling yourself that, in order to become a successful bank manager you have to be torn into little pieces, scattered around the floor and then stomped on. Who would agree to such a cruel and brutal fate? It doesn't seem as a fair price at all... And to be honest, no one gives a damn if the floor was clean or not, we might not even know if somebody did it on purpose, toyed with us, playing with the key pieces of our puzzle. But in the end, when you realise you are, just a fragment of the biggest nothing you had ever imagined, what would you do? You don't even have a face, your heart is just an emotional record on tiny bit of memory, we can as well call it, individual cd. Yes of course...We could blame it on someone else, but then again, he's far away, maybe eating a hot dog, or sleeping on the sofa, who knows? Nothing would turn that useless thought away, words as " He'll get his share of problems " will seem relunctant, almost disturbing and empty. We truly are individualists, aware of it or not, how can we experience an unconditioned love, when we are so eager to receive affection/trust/protection and yes...love. Who does actually realise that one of the most important things on earth is how/when will you discover yourself, most of us, just think and spend time fantasizing about less complicated ways, if not effortless ways of enjoying the ride. Come to think of it, that's the reason why I had always hated cheap lines head in film, like : " Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome on board, please put on your seatbelt on and enjoy the ride...", oh how these words had tortured me in every possible and it will also torture you, my dear strangers, but it will wait for that prescise moment when you feel like everything is going smooth for unknown reasons...Wrong answer...So many of you, might now ask themselves the question: " Ok...So what's the point?". Well my point is stop searching for a point, or you'll just end up with this huge headache like I did...People will always mess it up, it's part of the cleaning process...

Nesupunere

Acum sunt mai pustie ca intotdeauna...Nu e tristete, e liniste, acea liniste apasatoare care te sufoaca cand privesti intr-o prapastie adanca...
Am inteles acum poate mai mult ca niciodata cat de mult inseamna pentru un om suferinta, cat de mult inseamna un lips, ceva de care are nevoie si nu este de gasit...Adesea m-am intrebat daca starea de fericire vesnica ar dauna prin aspectul ei continuu, prin echilibrul plictisitor sau doar din lipsa unei comparatii, lipsa unui aspect vital omului...Insa am realizat mult mai mult, fericirea ne considera irelevanti, dansa se ofera in scopul evolutiei atat personale cat si a noastra. Pare aproape imposibil, chiar daunator acest echilibru perfect, stabil care ne ofera toti parametrii necesari, altitudine pentru a zbura, adancime pentru a ne ascunde profunzimea gandurilor dar si un teren perfect, moale, cald si hranitor pentru a oferii iubire, fericire si motivatie altora. Nesupunerea noastra produce un alt dezechilibru, de factura artificiala. Nu conteaza dimensiunea nesupunerii...legea nu isi cultiva subiectivitate si nici sentimente...Asemenea cadouri sunt oferite copiilor...Da straine, fara nesupunerea ta, fara ea nu vei putea evolua, eu vorbesc de un tip special de nesupunere... Unul fractionat din bunatate, unul deosebit, unic prin care iti este oferita sansa unui alt raspuns la rugaminti...Zambeste straine, maine va fi diferit, bine...rau...cine stie? E diferit...maine ai sansa sa-ti intinzi aripile, maine ai sansa sa descoperi ceva pretios cand te vei pierde in intunecimea fara fund...sau vei da nastere unei legaturi mai puternice catre univers, vei oferi o viata pura ce va intregii legaturile oamenilor...

What Kind of Love?

A dream of dwelling inside,
alone we come and alone we go.
And who am I to know what I feel?
Sympathy that's tearing me apart?
Attraction of the distance to heart of affinity?
What if love will leave your heart an open sore
And I can't reveal what even I don't know?
The love you feel you waste away on me.
What kind of love would let us bleed away?
No kind of love would make us bleed away.
If only you could be
the one to take a look inside.
I feel so incomplete.
A broken man in need of mother love.
I'm suffering in silence
And no one wants to see
And only god is watching as I bleed
a star above - my matching piece
What if love will leave your heart an open sore
And I can't reveal what even I don't know
The love you feel you waste away on me
What kind of love would let us bleed away
No kind of love would make us bleed away
Feel - that's all you gotta do
And it will heal you
Feel the pain to lead you home to peace of mind
Dwell inside
Feel - that's all you gotta do
And it will heal the wound
Feel the pain be a song for peace of mind
Dwell inside

P.s Happy Birtday Dad.

Ninge pentru mine...

Oricat de ciudat si egoist pare, acum ninge pentru mine, emotiile mele au chemat fulgii, au chemat spectacolul pitorescului la geamul meu. Fulgii se perinda ca mici lumini prin fata geamului meu etern...ca niste licurici ai iernii, doar tu lipsesti aici...
Zambesc si nu caut motiv, e cel din sufletul meu. Ninge si vreau sa ies sa te tin de mana, sa zambim si ne plimbam.

Pe chipul tau se scutura ninsoarea;
In parul tau se linistesc furtuni,
Doar ochii tai ce nu cunosc durerea
Mai nasc extravagante lumi...

Ultima Scrisoare

"Ultima Scrisoare" recitata de Florian Pitis, versuri compuse de Mihai Beniuc



Sfarsitul a venit fara de veste.
Esti fericita? Vad ca porti inel.
Am inteles, voi trage dunga peste
Nadejdea inutila. Fa la fel.

Nu, nici un cuvant, nu-mi spune ca-i o forma.
Cunosc insemnatatea ei deplin.
Stiu, voi aveti in viata alta norma.
Eu insa-n fata normei nu ma-nchin.

Nu te mai cant in versuri niciodata,
Mai mult in drumul tau nu am sa ies.
Nu-ti fac reprosuri, nu esti vinovata
Si n-am sa spun ca nu m-ai inteles.

A fost desigur, numai o greseala.
Putea sa fie mult - nimic n-a fost.
In vesnicia mea de plictiseala
Tot nu-mi inchipui ca puneai vreun rost.

Si totusi, totusi, cateva atingeri
Au fost de-ajuns sa-mi deie ameteli.
Vedeam vazduhul fluturand de ingeri,
Lumina-n noaptea mea de indoieli.

Cand degete de Midas am pus,magic,
Pe frageda fiinta-a ta de lut,
Simteam in mine murmurul pelagic,
Al sfintelor creatii de-nceput.

Vedeam cum peste vremuri se inalta
Statuia ta de aur greu, masiv,
Cum serioase veacuri se descalta
Si-ngenunchiate randuri, submisiv,
La soclul tau dumnezeiesc asteapta
Sa le intinzi cu zambet linistit
Spre sarutare adorata dreapta
'Nainte de-a se sterge-n infinit.

O,de-am fi stat alaturi doar o ora,
Ai fi ramas in auriul vis
Ca o eterna, roza, aurora
De neinteles, de nedescris.

Ireversibil s-a incheiat povestea
Si nici nu stiu de ai sa mai citesti
Din intamplare randurile-acestea
In care as vrea sa fii ce nu mai esti.

N-am sa strivesc eu visul sub picioare,
N-am sa patez cu vorbe ce mi-i drag.
As fi putut sa spun:"Esti ca oricare",
Dar nu vreau in noroaie sa ma bag.

De-ar fi mocirla-n jurul tau cat haul,
Tu vei ramane nufarul de nea
Ce-l oglideste beat de pofte taul
Ce-l tine, candid, amintirea mea.

Vei fi acolo pururi neintinata,
Te voi iubi mereu, fara cuvant,
Si lumea n-o sa stie niciodata
De ce nu pot mai mult femei sa cant.

Acolo, sub lumina de mister,
Scaldata-n apa visurilor, lina,
Vei sta, iubita, ca-ntru-un colt de cer
O stea de seara blanda si senina.

Iar cand viata va fi rea cu tine,
Cand or sa te improaste cu noroi
Tu fugi in lumea visului la mine,
Vom fi acolo, singuri, amandoi.

Cu lacrimi voi spala eu orice pata,
Cu versuri nemaiscrise te mangai.
In dulcea lor cadenta leganata
Te vei simti ca-n visul tau dintai.

Iar de va fi, cum simt mereu de-o vreme,
Sa plec de-aicea, de la voi, curand,
Cand glasul tau vreodata-o sa ma cheme,
Voi reveni la tine din mormant.

Iar de va fi sa nu se poata trece
Pe veci pecetluitele hotare,
M-as zbate-ngrozitor in tarna rece,
Plangand in noaptea mare, tot maï mare

P de la Politicoasa si Politica

Probabil e de vina dispozitia, mania de scris, mania de afirmat ceea ce simt, mania de a trimite mesajul corect sau nici macar nu stiu.
Imi asum responsabilitatea pentru ora ce ne incanta ochii si asa obositi.

Zoom pentru Politica. ( Am ajuns sa ma plang si eu...C'est grave..)

Detalii necesare.
Data extractie: ( vai ce cuvant ): 08.12.2009 ( pe 09.12.2009 am desenat un fluture mare...)
Dispozitie : Ehh...de la un vulcan in eruptie la copil ce scoate limba si asteapta sa-si termine opera de arta.
Muzica : Liniste...inca nu foloseam laptop-ul.
Durata : 6:20 pm - catre 7-8. Am memorie de elefant uneori.
Atitudine Curenta : In sfarsit mi-am facut curaj pentru un godzilla post.( Nu tu copy paste din jurnal...mama ei de tehnologie >.>")
Afirmatie de Dezvinovatire : Era dispozitia de vina. Imi cer scuze pentru cateva cuvinte.

P Stands for...Politics.

Care este rostul a te inaste in fiecare zi, a deschide ochii doar pentru a-i inchide speriat regretand?
Cand te nasti nu iti spune nimeni ca vei ajunge un batran admirat detinator al unei colectii impresionante - bucatele bine slefuite ale propriului tau suflet. Ai mai vrea sa imbatranesti stiind ca pe masura ce existenta ta iti deprima supletea si vitalitatea trupului; ochii tai se sting si pe masura ce agonia te ameteste, pe masura ce medicamentele pe care ti le aplici in minte, niste sperante cu spini, colturoase, zimtate, tu de fapt incetezi sa traiesti? Si astfel gustam, devenind captivii propriei noastre obisnuinte dar si a indemnarilor repetate, gustam ceea ce numim " puterea de a merge mai departe ". Un drog universal, catastrofic dar acceptat, mascat sub inocenta unui stil de viata; nu eviti sa suferi, sa ranesti deoarece stii prea bine cat de repede trece timpul, cat de efemere si insipide sunt toate pentru un om. Mai mult chiar, moral privit acest fapt te indeamna la accentuarea propriei tale evolutii, minutios gandita prin lipsa ta de afirmare si astfel ciclul uman al transformarii omului-maimuta se incheie prin etapa omului-robot, regres la progres, nimeni nu stie spre ce ne indreptam vertiginos. Am ajuns prea individualisti, prea aroganti dependenti de sine. Cugetarea profeseaza sub numele de suferinta, iar aroganta devine motiv de abstinenta sau orbire temporara cu beneficii personale.

Iar apoi observi ceea ce stiai de fapt...( Va urma continuarea din jurnal curand )

Visul unui deceniu

Eu vreau. Doresc…

Te vreau pe tine, te vreau in noapte.
Nu te vreau iluzie, te vreau cald, al meu, cu mine, in visul meu…
Iti vreau buzele calde sorbandu-mi lacrimile,…
Vreau vorbele ce nu le spui niciodata, vreau fericire.
Vreau parul tau lung pe umerii mei atunci cand ma privesti adanc;
Vreau sa fii orb si sa ma vezi doar pe mine.
Vreau sa ma tii aproape sa fiu a ta, doar un minut, sa nu stii de ea, sa n-o vrei.
Vreau sa fii actor, sa ma iubesti, vreau sa fiu indeajuns pentru tine
Dar nu sunt…
Vreau sa stii tot ce simt, sa stii ce gandesc, sa nu ma ranesti, sa nu te ranesc.
Iti vreau mainile calde pe chipul meu, alintandu-l, te pot avea uneori, dar suflet niciodata.
Vreau cheia, sa te descui, vreau sa ma inchid cu tine, in tine…
Sa fim doar noi doi, ascunsi, inchisi, sa nu intre nimeni, sa nu simtim durere….
Vreau sa nu existe nimic, dar tu ai exista , pentru ca tu esti totul…
Vreau sa prind lanturi de noi, sa fii in siguranta, sa nu imbatrinim niciodata, sa opunem rezistenta…
Vreau sa nu dormi niciodata, sa te imbeti din mine si sa ma sorbi treptat, iar eu sa fiu nesfarsita.
Vreau sa plece toti, sa ne invidieze, sa ne urasca, noi n-am auzi, am fi deasupra…
Vreau sa fii stapanul dragul meu, eu sa fiu muza….Vreau sa-ti fiu motivul, vreau sa fii speranta…
Vreau sa avem un pat mare, sa dormim milenii imbratisati, sa ne jucam ca si copiii, sa adormim la loc…
Vreau sa avem castelul nostru, sa ma daruiesc tie, acum, maine, mereu, sa nu te saturi de mine, eu…nu m-as putea satura.
Vreau sa ma saruti pe gat cand stau mica-n calea ta, sa ma pastrezi cu totul, sa devenim unul, sa murim asa si doar atunci.
Vreau sa fim libelule, sa traim mai repede, ce altii nu traiesc, ai avea timp de mine doar intr-o z?
Vreau sa stii exact ce gandesc, sa nu mai plang, sa nu-mi fie teama…
Vreau ca tot ce imi dorsc sa fie adevarat, sa se poata implinii, pot astepta oricat Vreau…sa poti astepta si tu…

Punct si de la Copil.

Extraordinar ca si termen definit de mintea umana, presarata de mici efemeritati s-ar constitui printr-un copil ce nu cunoaste fericirea, sau poate prin portocala aceea de Craciun, care desi nu e niciodata sub brad, te ademeneste uitata pe pat sau masa, intepata artisitc de acele bradului ce se scutura deja de cateva ore, sau primind aroma respiratiei de scortisoara si mar. Mama vrea sa gusti prajitura, insistent, copilaros, ritmic sau scolaresc, te-a convins. De dincolo auzi, si parca iti aduci aminte de diminetile cand iti tineai respiratia, numarai elefanti, oi...sau ... dar stiai ca atunci cand genele se vor ridica de pe obraji tai calzi sarutati de somn, vei vedea alb, pur, cadouri, zambete...Macar atunci e liniste, auzi scartaitul delicios al zapezii sub labele catelului, oftatul angelic al vantului cand geamul se deschide si-ti aduce acel miros, acea pofta de viata pe care nu o poti definii, esti copil... Nu exista durere, iubire, ura, pretentii, distrugere sau sperante zdrobite, exista placinta mamei, bratele tatalui cand te cara pe umeri, cozonacul forfecat de dintisorii mici si albi ce cauta necontenit pata neagra de nuca, mirosul transparent al caldurii. Fugi cu pasi grabiti, ii oferi tatalui cealalta parta de cozonac...cand esti mic, esti darnic, nestiutor, pofticios si plangacios. Ii zambesti inocent, nu e fals, e copilarie, esti copil. Auzi colinda si fugi iar, uiti de julitura de la genunchi, de vanataia de la gamba, nici macar margeaua lipsa dintre dinti nu mai doare, zambesti, esti dulce, esti mica, esti copil, sunt parintii cu tine si sunt doai ai tai. Incepi sa intrebi, te miri, te uiti, mai furi un deget de frisca, crema, aluat, mancare, un deget inocent si mic, nesesizabil, acceptat. Gandesti mmm, si topai, faci zgomot, auzi colinde si tu sari, luminitele de langa jeam se perinda intr-un ritm alert pe langa tine si te inconjoara ca intr-un carousel. Nu te opresti, nu stii ce inseamna oboseala, spaima, neincredere, durere, esti copil, ferit, ferecat in acel cufar langa Robinson Crusoe, acolo sus in pod la Medeleni. Sau poate ca esti sub masa la Mos Gheorghe, mai furi ceva dulce pana cand sa-ti primesti pedeapsa. Rochita ta de da mereu de gol cand vrei sa furi dulceata, nuuu...vroiai sa vezi daca mai e buna, tu nu furi, tu imprumuti. Primesti pupici. Apoi te uiti dupa Mos, nu e, analizezi, e prea mic hornul iar mama gateste, fumul e gros si barba mosului se va ridica mereu...Nu are cum sa intre, vata de zahar cand se incalzeste se topeste pe limba ta rosie, ce nu cunoasta raceala, durerea, gustul. Mosul nu vine, oftezi, dai din picioare, sterge nasul cu maneca si te pui pe plans la modul serios, asa te aude, macar sa ocoleasca si sa vina pe usa. Patabum e atent, sigur il va lasa sa intre. Trebuie doar sa...gaseasca zmeul, e ascunsa cheia acolo... Uiti de mos, fugi la brad, e gata, tati a terminat, vrei sa impodobesti dar nu ajungi decat la prima creanga, plangi. Te ridica, asezi steaua, razi...Mama deschide usa iar colindele va invaluie pe toti, acum simti mirosul apetisant al mancarii, ti-e foame, acadelele s-au dus iar burtica e goala goala goala... Mananci, totul e un joc, te strambi, mancarea fuge, deraieaza trenul in mod repetat la intrare in gara, mai si scuipi, mai versi, te murdaresti la gura si pe maini, esti copil si toti zambesc. Ti-ai furat durerea, si ai pierdut-o printre jucarii...s-a dus...E fericire, aia, e mereu in par, pe gene, pe buze, si o dai la toti odata cu pupicii tai naivi. Aroma mereu ma cheama acasa stiai?