Sonnets to Sell

 1. As If I Didn't Know What to Look For

I see their faces through a fog, as if I didn't know what to look for

Because voice & body, heart & mind always collide;

The labyrinth of conversion starts before the door 

And could exhaust anyone until they can no longer hide.

Such storms grow stronger and turn into tears of broken glass

When the lightning and thunder finally break free;

Brought together inside the head, they make a terrible fuss

Which often turns into the statue most people see.

And I cannot escape it, I swim in my own fury

Because even that and its tears is better than staying numb;

Still, there is something which I only need to bury,

And that's my futile attempt to control the rhythm of the drum.

It's not pleasant to be stuck between boiling hot, and cold,

But what do I know? I'm only 18 years old.

2. Everyone Plays in a Coordinated Way

I hear the sounds of an orchestra and its instruments 

When everyone plays in a coordinated way;

Still, certain some have a few impediments 

Which when noticed, ruin everyone's day.

Everybody I know was taught to play perfectly,

Instinctively knowing how to avoid mistakes;

Only my piano might never sound so beautifully,

Regardless of the thunder and lightning it takes.

Despite the different rhythm, I can still play,

And pretend to use the sound they are making;

Although anyone can notice the slight delay,

Few will see the keys which are breaking.

Why am I unable to understand a simple word said to me,

Yet I notice different tones others fail to see?

(That's just how my brain works, I guess :))

3.  The Stars Are What You See First 

In an endless universe, the stars are what you see first

As they are the lights guiding hearts of sailors;

Even when a raging storm maintains its outburst,

Polaris or the Southern Cross still shows all the colours.

And so I shimmer brightly, regardless of who decides to follow,

Because their curses no longer ring in my ears;

A hand was always pointing, but usually at where to blow,

And touch the spot which brings all tears.

But now I don't notice or care about it anymore

Because the only way out of the abyss is up;

Although many spots are still bleeding or sore,

Nothing could be more useful than the emptiness of a cup.

Why do I even hear the sound of such an ugly laughter

When my head no longer has the loudest clatter?

4. The Only Path Out of Such a Mess

They smile so brightly it makes me become blind

Because such beauty wins all the necessary gold;

Few will live to see the knife held behind 

Which can subdue anyone whose mind wasn't sold.

They look at me gladly before judging every move,

Treating me as if I was a different species of human;

Why do such people never say what they disapprove,

Except only in seeing brothers as subhuman?

The only path out of such a mess is to stick your head above,

And learn to go forward, to always improve yourself;

Eventually, you'll hold in hands a lovely dove,

Seeing your art as a porcelain figure on a shelf.

They laugh while treating me like a saint

Before throwing stones at the colours I use to paint. 

5. They Read Everything in Solely Binary Words

Between two roads, I won't walk on any

Because they both have holes all the way down;

The means of both are rarely chosen by many

Because the middle way could bring them to drown.

People who choose either road will never know balance

Because they read everything in solely binary words;

Such minds may never know the beautiful noise of silence

Because clutter is rarely able to create worlds.

I'm growing tired of explaining every single colour

To those who only know the extremes of black and white;

Such minds rarely see through scandal and glamour

Or attempt to notice a poet falling from a great height.

I hate the way some people turn out to be 

Because their ears turns deaf and they forget what it's like to see.

6. Like Fire & Rain

Like fire & rain they are around the walls of Troy

Because Patroclus' cold hand prevents Achilles from burning;

It's been like this since the prince was a boy

Because he doesn't wish for the beauty to be turning. 

A mind brings balance to any strong feeling

While the lyre's sound echoes that of a poet;

Now Achilles' eyes from crying start bleeding 

While our hero tears apart all words of my sonnet.

Without Patroclus, the hero's tears turn into violent rage

Because his heart is now glass shards on the ground;

Such power goes beyond any other of his age

Because his cracked, raspy voice makes a terrible sound.

How could he live in a world without his rain,

A world bringing him nothing but pain?

7. About Joseph K. 

Upon waking up one day, Joseph K. found out 

That he was being arrested for some reason;

In protest, he in vain tried to shout 

Because he felt the officers were committing a treason.

Nobody knows what happened or the reason why

K. was sent to a painter and then brought to the court;

He was confused because he saw it was a lie

Constructed by a business set up to cut him short.

But nothing at all seems to be in his favour 

Because everyone is against his innocence;

It is all nothing but such a futile labour,

Which is meant to strip K. of his independence.

The Trial is nothing but a dream of reality,

Albeit one of the highest possible quality.

8. Silent Eyes

Colourful worlds often gather behind silent eyes

Because words fail to exist and create a statement;

It feels like everyone around me is playing dice

Without any kind of confusion or resentment.

Something poisons my head before I try to think

Because I paralyse when I need to talk;

It's not anxiety that's causing me to sink,

But something else that keeps the brain in shock.

I don't always understand all they're speaking

Because I miss cues of eyes, ears or a bloody nose;

Until blood from the skull or heart starts leaking,

Nobody will pay attention to any sign of those.

I find solace where others see disaster

While they know skills I fail to master.

9. In a Distant Graveyard

In a distant graveyard burns brightly a fire

Because poets always choose incineration as their death;

Until the final minute of that day, I still play my lyre

Because nothing's better than the music of a last breath.

Some poets hang themselves or burn in the wood

Because they fail to see the absurd beauty of it all;

I, however, listen to every single mood

Because I fail to see the intense fear of the fall.

All I can do is sing Sisyphus' absurd song,

And embrace the joy of living he teaches me to feel;

For such a simple idea, I've waited too long

Before I could step forward and break my own seal.

The Scythe and its Wings of Lead cannot scare me anymore 

Because nothing about it could ever feel sore.

10.  Why Do So Many Abhor The Smell of Lavender?

An old man passes by and sees a simple kiss,

Which disgusts him down to the core of his heart;

The two men only hear the other starting to hiss

Because he cannot stand the pair's equal art.

"I'm a normal one", a woman tells herself before turning away,

And returning to a man whose liver is about to break;

She will surely hope until the last rainy May

That she made the right choice for her kids' sake.

Why do so many abhor the smell of lavender

When it's equally beautiful as that of roses?

A touch, a smile, a tear can be just as tender,

Despite the horrible crime everyone supposes.

So why fear something just because to you it's unknown?

I'd advise to be more tolerant, show us you're fucking grown!

11. With the Past as a Weapon

With the past as a weapon, many rise to be presidents

Because they say nothing is better than the fatherland;

Such people bring a hell into the lives of many residents

Because they promise diamonds but leave behind only sand.

Such leaders promise to rip out the lavender weed,

Thus throwing salt on all our open wounds;

Yet lavender has everywhere a little seed,

Despite everyone's appetite for endless feuds.

The leaders talk as if Mussolini was being reborn,

And he wanted to march once more against Rome;

With such an attitude, all the progress is torn,

And every light sees its way out of my home.

Where is resistance, hatred cannot foster

Because when the storm rages, blows the Auster.

12. To Maintain Everything Inside

A glass jar tries to maintain everything inside

While the exterior is yelling too much;

Not even when all words start to collide,

Will you see any crack, any leaf falling off the branch.

Yet occasionally the glass will break into 1000 shards

Because of something little like forgetting to feed the cat;

Fuck me, I need to learn to use my useless cards

Because I tend to hide, to turn into a silent bat.

Then such shards cause too much of the bleeding,

Although perfectly hidden behind a white shirt;

Maybe I'll put an end to it just to stop the head's pleading

Or find a way to tend those have been hurt.

Why do I keep breaking such a thick glass

And keep filling it with nothing but gas?

13. The Silence of the Grave

The silence of the grave is disturbed by hail,

Which falls on my head and leaves a few bleeding spots;

Still, in the tempest I try to simply sail,

Even though the blood isn't yet turning to clots.

During such times, nothing really happens any more

Except for those who stitch their wounds alone;

Amongst those, some have cuts fresh and sore

While others walk the world as a mere clone.

Yet impatience is growing with each day passing by

Because everyone seems to be running these days;

In any case, it's nothing but a fat lie,

Which is sold to those who cannot build their ways.

Time stands still as if nothing changes any more

While all the scarred wounds are now sore.

14. Oh, Summer, Dear Summer

While turning my shirts into buckets of sweat all the time;
The love many have for the heat, I cannot even see,
Unless we're talking about butterfly pea and lime.
Oh, summer, dear summer, eternal source of my headache,

You are a scorching season I almost hate I was born in;
Why do you have to forget the darkness before daybreak,
And doom people not to sleep before midnight settles in?
Oh, summer, dear summer, always making my head spin,
And reminding me to read about the joys of snow;
I hope for a storm or just a rain to settle in
As a way to escape the heat's shit show.
Oh, summer, dear summer, why don't you leave me alone,
And give Princess Autumn the chance to take the throne?

15. Hate Way Too Easily

Why do people throw their hate way too easily
When acceptance needs little to no effort at all?
So why look at others and judge too hastily,
Instead of helping them before a long fall?
People look so differently when someone is singled out,
And yell or say words in arrows to pierce a heart;
It's all quiet here, except for the head's loud shout,
Which makes my eyes bleed while my hands tear apart the art.
Why can't we see each other as humans all the same
Who need each other to enjoy the beauty of diversity?
Why do we look at each other only to shift the blame
Or to scream at somebody for showing sensitivity?
We tend to see differences more often than what is common
Because we dismiss the logic of a heart's summon.

16.A Lazy Cat
In the sunlight, you will always see a lazy cat
Who dares not to care about what others do or say;
If you come near him, he may look like a mere mat
Because he becomes a circle under the hot sun of May.
His snow of fur nicely contrasts his blue eyes,
Which brightens up the mood of every single room;
Sitting next to him, you couldn't tell any lies
Because he knows when your eyes show your doom.
Scars or cuts often disappear in his lovely presence
Because he knows where to touch you to feel better;
With him, you'll never see the difference in distance
Between the whole universe, and your quiet shelter.
A cat is needed in every flat or house,
And not only to help you catch a mouse.

 

17. The Sapphic Two 

Silence dawns upon the sapphic two

Who see nothing but the other's pair of eyes;

The green and its confidence pierce through all the blue

Because neither of them could be fooled by lies.

They speak to each other, and it sounds like a foreign song,

Which may bring to others all the great sorrows;

For them, it's nothing but a common mother tongue,

Although words of lead can feel too often as arrows.

They both are full of scars on the body and head

Because not many would accept such a world;

Through the stitches, often the wound had bled

Because such a love rarely gets to say a word.

It is June and all my rooms smell of lavender

Because such a flame comes across as tender.

 

18.A Headache Takes Over the Wire
Upon waking up, a headache takes over the wire,
And the brain fires the alarms without a reason;
But I ignore it by always acting like a liar
While trying to hide my own mind's treason.
Although quieter than usual, I still look calm
Because I'm addicted to hiding scars and slips of tongue;
But a drop touching my skin now fails to feel like a balm,
And everything now sounds like a sorrowful, furious song.
I try to sail endlessly on a too-swollen river
Because a light or sound is enough to cause a flood;
But from the outside, it looks like silence and a shiver,
Even when the inside overflows with blood.
I wear a mask so nobody knows my inside,

And I fear being unable to hide. 

19. A Sword Hangs Above My Head

A sword hangs above my head whenever I try to speak
While all the doubtful looks gather around me;
That's when my head and shoulders often feel sick
Because I hate it when others often fail to see.
I notice colours where others have long lost sight
Although I may sound insane when I bring those up;
My flame of frustration and joy burns so bright
That it might tear all walls apart with a finger snap.
We were taught to hate, to see difference as a threat
Because we didn't notice the human side is the same;
But living feels much better when you don't see it as a bet,
And stop looking for someone to blame.
When you see the world solely through binary glances,
You miss the beauty of all rainbow lenses. 

20.Leo & The Devil
The artist takes the coal and paper in his bare hands
While the little devil bares his chest before his master;
Now time stands still and no man moves to other lands
Because the old painter's hand refuses to move faster.
Salaino sighs again before snoring at the thought of Rome
While da Vinci's awe is aimed at his demigod's body;
Such a love of lavender would be imprisoned by the Dome,
But most stayed silent about the painter's adored somebody.
Cursing Rome and its customs, Leo returns to his art
Because his only muse kept awaiting him;
His eyes brighten while he hears the song of his heart
Because they now see each other despite the sunset's dim
In a painter's way, lavender is often in bloom,
Despite the faiths wishing its doom. 

21. No Way Out

The air is thick and chokes whoever passes by
Because the Vesuvius is about to explode;
Each tongue would feed it, selling nothing but a lie
While the hands threw rocks wherever I strode.
Then it blows up, burning innocent skin
Because burning my eyes with tears is easier than speaking;
I should've had other stitches than those of tin
Because all the lava seems to be now leaking.
And I burn myself too because there is no way out
Of such a mess that still tears my head apart;
In the void, nobody could ever hear a shout,
Regardless of who's dying or losing a heart.
But the Vesuvius explodes, burning Napoli to ashes
While leaving me nearby to mend all the gashes.

 

22. Ultimul examen al liceului

O să dăm și ultimul examen al liceului,

Dar nici că putea să mă doară mai rău în cur;

A dracului a fost lupta lui Heracle și a leului

Pentru că s-a spart asfaltul la cât am căzut de dur.

Vai de capul meu câte măști crăpate am putut vedea

Și la colegi, și la directori, și la restul lumii;

N-o să-mi lipsească tronul pe care profesorul ședea 

Și nici ale colegilor vorbe fără sunet numărate până la mii.

Cât de importanți sunt oare toți elevii, 

Inclusiv cei cu tatuaje sau cicatrici la încheieturi?

În momente dificile, nu din școală afli ce ai să devii,

Ci mai mult de la cei care te ajută să te bendajezi la tăieturi.

Nu regret, dar nici nu mă bucur că termin acum liceul,

Deși pe Icar îl poate doborî plumbul și pe Heracle leul.

23.  At The End of My School Days

I refuse to cry at the end of my school days

Because there isn't much I would miss;

Even in the best, the most beautiful of Mays,

I could still hear the ugly sound of a little hiss.

And why would I miss every single odd look

I too often get while I'm still in the room?

Sure, I have a few friends about whom I could write a book,

Many others cannot look at a painting or a rose in bloom.

Empty speeches and lonely masks fill the hall

When differences in honesty are to be blamed;

On the mind and body, it all takes a great toll,

Leading to a rage in thought which cannot be tamed.

So how can I forget the hissing I hear 

When they are ever-present in all I held dear?

24.  Black Tiger

I have a black tiger always resting on my back,

And it's always draining to carry around;

He's only smaller, it doesn't count as a lack

Because his weight still breaks my bones without a sound. 

He never forgets his pendulum, the future or the past

Because he is the warrior of worries and numbing;

I know his blues, his loneliness, and rage are not meant to last, 

But the yells, the exhaustion, the silence feels deafening.

Still, I'll probably carry the black tiger till the end of my days,

Even when he's heavier and harder to bare;

It's like a taste on my tongue during all bitter-sweet Mays,

One that is often hard to bury or even share.

Most people have such a tiger, albeit a cub or a full-grown beast,

But we all agree we can still enjoy a lovely feast.

25.  Always Burnig Above My Head

The sun is always burning above my head,

And I bloody hope against a migraine or pain all over;

I wish for a storm, wind or just clouds of lead

Because thus season will certainly never be my lover.

If I stay out for too long, I'll most likely melt

Because sweat drenches every shirt I wear;

I'd rather have a walk under Orion's belt

Or simply fly in darkness, albeit without a feather.

Mate, how much I hate all this heat,

And the way it keeps draining me?

If I could move north, I'd do it in a heartbeat,

Had it meant such a weather was a no-see.

I can't stand summer, though I was born in it,

Because it feels like dying under such a heat.

26. The Rabbit's Ears

The rabbit's ears are always aware of everything 

Because no sound or movement remains without a notice;

Here I am, writing and starting to sing

Of every fear of his until the summer solstice.

He is startled by a foreign tone in a familiar voice

Because he always hears the clatter of silver knives;

Explaining stimuli & feelings is much like reading "Ulysses" by Joyce

While the head's clamour is nothing but beehives.

He's attentive, yet fearful of everything around him,

Although he knows the cat means him no harm;

Still, the rabbit's eyes shimmer with all that's grim

Because his mind is too often in a state of alarm.

He runs or freezes when he perceives a threat

Because leaving his place causes most of his sweat.

27.  No Clue What to Write About 

Now I have no clue what to write about 

Because too many ideas are pouring out of my ears;

Still, there's no reason to cry or shout

Because a poem is done over many years.

No need to rush, words aren't going anywhere,

And neither are any pages of that book;

I would take you to a place, but I'm still not there,

Even though I no longer feel every single look.

I guess this might be what I've been missing 

Or rather what I've been missing all this time;

Now I can rarely hear any kind of hissing 

While I'm cooking with all of my thyme.

I still don't know what I'll write about tomorrow,

If I'll write about silence or yet another row.

28. All I Need Today 

A cup of tea is all I need today,

And it tastes better shared with somebody; 

A cup of tea and a close group of friends brighten up this May

Because against loneliness this is a great antibody.

I love to drown in gossip and laughter 

Because I don't switch minds when talking to these people;

Socially, I could never be a grand crafter,

But I always feel better around such gentile people.

I love to share a cup of tea with whoever,

As long as I see the connection is worth it;

Otherwise, talking becomes more exhausting than ever,

And I feel afterwards as if my head had been hit.

So why waste my time with people who act as if I shouldn't exist 

When I could instead nurture the passion which may persist?

29. I Hear Whispers

I hear whispers, voices I've once known

While I still tend to the cuts on my body and mind;

I see you exist in the same way you'd shown, 

With your bright smile of arrogance and the knife you hold behind.

Of course you can bite me, but I don't feel it anymore 

Because I'm too used to such a treatment;

Although some spots will still feel sore,

I will see flowers growing from your torment.

Then you will return to me, more tired than ever, 

Begging for your control and the attention you used to receive;

To be honest, I don't regret I had to sever

Because I learned not to be touched by what you perceive.

I laugh and raise a glass without alcohol to whoever hated me:

I love you, and thank you for helping me focus on what I should truly see! 

30. Hanging By My Neck

Sometimes I see myself hanging by my neck,

Some others I could gauge my own eyes out;

It feels like playing poker with only half a deck

While all you hear is a mute man's shout.

At the border between dissociation and presence, 

My head still cannot make a fucking choice;

My mind is an oblivion of chaos and tranquility in persistence

Because the doubt or depression often has a louder voice.

I know a full mind never serves anyone

Because its emptiness makes the cup useful; 

However, only stars pierce through in the absence of a sun,

And only letters make me feel better when all is dull.

Cheers for the days to come, whatever they may be,

Because that's how I notice what I once failed to see.  

 

(source of the image: https://thevikingherald.com/article/who-was-snorri-sturluson-the-great-icelandic-author-and-poet/321)