Sonnets to Serve

 1. The First Time.

Do you remember the first time you cried your eyes out, 

And you thought loudness would bring help in your way? 

Now I see you crying with hiccups, swallowing your heart's shout 

Because you could be hated for your sensitivity until your last May. 

Do you remember yesterday when the sky fell into shards all over your head, 

But you wouldn't let anyone touch you, afraid you'd be hurt even more? 

Now you let your friends stitch the wounds that have once bled, 

Even when some spots will inevitably still feel sore. 

Like me, you try to hide your tears until you cannot any more 

Because you don't want to bother another with your pain. 

But you feel it in every muscle, every fibre to the core, 

Yet when you reveal it, sometimes a friend is what you gain. 

Vulnerability scares you because some take advantage of it, 

Yet you're confused when a hand caresses you, or simply doesn't hit. 

2. A Tattoo 

You have unique marks, unnoticeable at first glance, 

Which always shows, and colours the way you live; 

Yet you scold others for drawing them on skin before our dance 

Because the difference goes against what you believe. 

For you, it's a scar, for us, it's often a tattoo, 

Only a name separates memory, thought, and pain; 

Yet you see only a difference, where we just know a glue 

Which starts to form when encountering a single similar brain. 

Why is difference so foreign to so many people 

When it's been around us since the dawn of time? 

If we forget to embrace each other, I only expect a free fall 

Of any honest person in a fight against a mime. 

When you notice a tattoo, try to see a person with a story, 

Instead of only praising the past or heaven's glory. 

 

3.  It Starts to Rain.

It starts to rain, but I seem the only one without a word against it 

Because I love feeling the raindrops all over my face; 

Even if it's lightly hailing, I rarely mind the hit, 

Despite the scars, and my past's silent trace. 

I like the sun too, but not when it burns my skin 

Because that's when the falls outweigh the flights; 

If I get burnt, I might throw all the smiles into the bin 

Because a shadow is always cast by too many lights. 

So allow me to enjoy my moments in my own way 

Because it's not your head that's at stake; 

Revolt isn't my reason for forgetting what you say, 

It's just the second before the accident when you hit the brake. 

I enjoy all kinds of weather, as long as it's not extreme 

Because the art of living happens in the world between reality, and dream. 

4.  The Darkest Moment of the Night.

In the darkest moment of the night, everything pauses 

Because that's how we know our rush doesn't exist; 

Breathing slows down, and my trap of thoughts forgets its causes 

Because against such calm, sorrow can't persist. 

Today I fly like Icarus, and manage to touch the sun, 

But tomorrow I may fall, burning in the depths of hell. 

Still, most days I'm in the middle, but it's sweet as a cinnamon bun 

Because regardless of the feeling, my brain no longer rings the alarm bell. 

Nothing truly touches me any more, no matter the origin or nature 

Because in daylight is born a shadow, as when during the night, you see the moon; 

Nothing matters, except the perfume of your own adventure 

Because when you love lavender, roses, and lilies, beauty surrounds you soon. 

Whether I'm calm or furious, I still enjoy my cup of tea 

Because what's the point of living if you can't use your ears or see a bee? 

5.  The Alchemist.

Covered in petrol, gold, and blood, he looks everyone in the eye, 

While smiling brightly, denying all accusations; 

At the border, the long-suffering have forgotten how to cry 

Because the alchemist keeps playing with his interventions. 

He talks about ethnicity as if that were all he cared about 

Since you only hear his words through a narrow tunnel; 

If you dare to speak against, he quietly stifles your shout, 

Which makes living feel like the weight on the back of a camel. 

If you flee or protest, you'll lose your voice in vain 

Because in the emperor's ears, it never makes a sound; 

Regardless of how many tears, lives, months of pain, 

The absolute worst of history to repetition is bound. 

The only ones who can protest are those who scream for help of the voiceless. 

Without the loudest noise, it would be hopeless. 

 

6. Sing Louder! 

You raise your head above the headless crowd 

Because you see faults everyone else is ignoring; 

It does make a sound, but never too loud 

Because the will to change is still snoring. 

You're not the only one to see a problem from the inside, 

But you are the first to talk about it so openly; 

I'll give you the eyes to look beyond all they hide 

Because speaking directly can be a need, suddenly. 

So let me hear your voice, it's one of the many 

Seeking out a way to clean up such a massive mess; 

Close critical voices still make a sound like any, 

But they've gone quasi-quiet when seeing a man in a dress. 

Sing louder to grab the attention of every generation 

Because most organs are failing and in urgent need of an operation. 

 

7.  Your Mind's Jewels.

Inside, and outside my flat, I try to perfect my flight 

Because only in this way I can reach heights I've never seen; 

From the right point of view, you can even see the light, 

Or heal from the scorpion's poison, the wounds that have been. 

I know you're still bleeding, despite being stitched 

Because even flashes of pictures bring you back into your memory; 

Even hearing a voice, regardless of its tone or pitch, 

Brings you into the worst nightmare of a reverie. 

But between bleeding, and all your scars, you find new lives, 

Which finally helps you exist by simply following your own rules; 

You thought it was worthless, but now I see your new hives 

Of both joy and sorrow, which turns into your mind's jewels. 

So here I am, living between the fire & ice of my flight 

Because only with both, can you feel the thrill of an unseen height. 

8. The Lavender's Perfume 

People of the kind gather like moths around the flame 

Because we know our minds are wired in a similar way; 

Although we hear voices speaking all words of blame, 

I hope we'll still have each other even through the worst of May. 

United by the same flag, we all recognise the lavender perfume in others, 

And we experience extreme joy upon the lucky encounter; 

Day & night, we tried to speak against the sins of the fathers, 

But as we failed, we turned them into mere banter. 

We turned our tears into stories written in Achilles' words, 

While the laughter echoes faintly, sometimes into deaf ears. 

Still, we try to rise from ashes, to teach colour to grey worlds, 

Even though, it can be paralysing to even acknowledge our fears. 

So here I am, turning my mind into a little art, 

As blood paints a portrait when it pours from or is pumped by a heart. 

9. My Blood-Red Eyes 

You sometimes look at me as if I was of a different breed, 

As if I who refused to stay silent would have committed a crime. 

Darling, the only difference is that I follow another creed, 

And I don't see prejudice as an element necessary in our time. 

Many forget we all are still people, 

Beings who see, think, feel, hear; 

But the heaviest words no longer ring as triple 

Because they've lost all power while I still have my ear. 

So I raise a glass to the voices inside my head, 

All born from those I used to see as close to me; 

I do have scars, a limp, an ear which had bled, 

But still, nothing stops me when I want to say what I see. 

So go ahead and isolate me or any other peer, 

But from my blood-red eyes, you'll never see a tear. 

 

10. Hyakkimaru 

Sometimes many a sound reverberates too heavily into my ears, 

Which brings instability at worst, and confusion at best. 

Still, the higher intensity is what usually sears, 

Like the eagle's yell when encountering an unguarded nest. 

My words are a different story of a different time 

Because ink weighs very little between all blanks; 

But uttering them feels worse than eating the zest of a lime 

Because looking people in the eye feels like an attack on all flanks. 

In the meantime, I'll listen to a sweet, yet fragile voice singing its song, 

While I let the rain wash over my mind, and my face; 

My sibling doesn't seem to care that I often don't have a tongue, 

Nor do I care about his village or whichever was his past trace. 

I'm in a bloodbath because I see no difference between some people & my demons.   

Because the one who abuses his power is often the one who preaches in sermons. 

 

11.  Dororo 

A playful way to say “thief” became my nickname 

Because I cannot say I've never done it before; 

But most around me see the act and only know to blame, 

Which touches a spot that in my mind has remained sore. 

I'm surprised I lived through war, and I'm here 

Because my parents were the victims of such a machine, senseless & cruel. 

Still, a memory of a spider-red Lilly can often sear 

As if my mind, my senses, and my reality were in a duel. 

Until I met my older bother, although he couldn't speak well 

Because he helped me survive by trying to see it all. 

Now he can hear, though every sound rings too loudly the alarm bell, 

But I help him navigate it, in exchange for filling affection's hole. 

At least I'm living in safety, all thanks to my brother, 

While I show him the scent of a flower dear to my mother. 

 

12. Commedia dell'Arte 

Now forward comes a man with a grey beard, but mischievous eyes 

Who always carries with him the lion of Saint Mark; 

He only sees money and isn't afraid to use lies 

Because he could sell candles to the blind while growing flowers in the dark. 

Behind Pantalone walks a man who always wears only white, 

The difference is that Pulcinella is younger, more curious, and more playful. 

Still, he can negotiate for the Vesuvius or anything in his sight, 

But he's not afraid to back down, scream, or be joyful. 

This clever comedy through which we find our ways to live 

Has the most absurd, yet fascinating characters I've ever seen. 

But I do enjoy my role in messing with whatever they believe 

Because it's as complex, yet as simple, as it's ever been. 

Our masks hide every rank, belief, and even name, 

Proof that most of us always wanted to feel the same. 

13.

The Silent Calmness of Your Call 

I wander through the night, trusting what I hear 

Because otherwise, I couldn't make out any shapes around. 

But the moment's peace is what dries out every tear 

Because now my head finally makes no deafening sound. 

I sit in darkness since it brings me no fear at all; 

I could even say I too often enjoy its whole presence. 

People fear you, your influence, the silent calmness of your call 

Because too often pride stands in the path of non-resistance. 

I don't have this fear, I don't see inside such a great enemy 

Because it all freezes or fades without a blinding light. 

Only in this way, do you get to feel everything until you truly see 

Your own fire, burning from the inside, typically shining brightly. 

You always forget within you lies an incredible strength to live 

Because foreign sounds, and voices, often demand what to believe. 

 

14. 

Fundamentals 

The brain is the only organ with the power to name itself 

Because he's rumoured to host nature's most complex wires. 

Like the king he is, he sits at the top of the spine's shelf 

Because he works daily, and nightly, but rarely tyres. 

We see, hear, speak, smell, and even feel pain 

Because our brains respond to every whim of the outside. 

Even when the body's power reaches the point of drain, 

The brain will push its buttons until adrenaline steps from behind. 

But the opposite can also be true in times of danger 

Because our brains fire the alarms to fight any infection; 

A bite or a scratch, from another animal or simply a stranger 

Will cause extreme pain, pushing the body in a better direction. 

If I were you, I'd thank my neurons and brain 

Because without them, I'd die before feeling any pain.

15. 

A Good Game of Rummikub 

Whether it's a good game of Rummikub  or a great book, 

People bond over the smallest, yet greatest things in our worlds; 

It's enough to have a little smile and a playful look 

For those around to notice, and appreciate your words. 

This mystery we call friendship appears out of nowhere 

Or is calculated, and strengthened over many years ahead. 

Either way, I try to bring a little colour where others wouldn't dare 

Because I always attract people who like what I said. 

To recharge from the contact with all these people, 

I live by myself without ever feeling the weight of loneliness. 

I enjoy sitting amongst friends, but the pleasure is triple 

If in my own presence, I can truly find my happiness. 

I need a dose of solitude to be able to still function, 

But between agitation and isolation, I sit at the junction.

16.

Until the End of the World 

I returned late from my walk with blood all over my face 

Because the brothers ripped the petals of my rose in a fight. 

I tried to hide, to sit by myself in the darkness, without a trace, 

But when the king arrived, he first turned on the light. 

Rage and shame read on his face, but pity is prevalent as well 

Because his boy, his only boy, was now bleeding inside out. 

Still, the queen cries, while ringing her pastor's bell 

Before tying me up, and choking my empty attempt to shout. 

I'm still standing, and I will be until the end of the world, 

Despite suffocating between willows, and arrows, all behind a tall wall. 

I could return to the beach to see the Perseids without a word, 

But I hate to wear a mask while dancing to a foreign rhythm in my hall. 

I would've gone swimming toward Bucharest just to escape this place, 

But I still could've been seen, despite leaving without a trace.

 

17. The Mariner 

We see his ship setting sail ahead towards a far east, 

But little does he know the war is carried on the sea too. 

It wasn't easy to leave his city, to now forget his nest, 

But he needs to find Achilles, he knows what he has to do…

The mariner's steering his wheel, looking towards nowhere 

Because he knows the war will eventually tear him apart. 

He's written his adventures, I only sing as it's my flair, 

But only he could lift his sword against the sun from the start. 

Achilles saw Patroclus die in his arms, bathing in blood, 

While crying in desperation, pulling his hair in grief; 

But the sailor cannot stand all his rage, and tears in flood, 

So he prepared the hero's grave because 10 years felt so brief. 

Now, when he tries through fire to return to his queen, 

His mighty ship remains only a wreckage of all it's once been. 

 

18. About Geography & History 

There's too much about our planet we're scared to explore 

Because the head craves the certainty of facts and not mysteries. 

Still, only by continuing to excavate towards the core 

Will we be able to discover, and experience the best sceneries. 

To understand the present, we need to look at memories 

Because a denied past wounds every single thought. 

If we refuse to accept the blood & tears of all these stories, 

We'll lose every improvement for which we have fought. 

A certain geography of the night needs more attention, 

Along with a study of history, and its typological characters. 

Without voices or colours, there's never an intention 

Because novelty can only be born out of complete disasters. 

It's alarming how many forgot the geography & history of their own mind 

Because through a fog, between head & body, there's no bind. 

19. The Rabbit & The Fox 

You call me “the rabbit” because I often pay attention

To the smallest details, nobody has ever noticed before. 

Yet I'm sensitive to a change of tone or a dangerous intention, 

So I can adjust my reaction to avoid feeling sore. 

I call you “the fox” for all the tricks you keep pulling on me, 

But I'd lie if I told you I'm not having a good laugh at it! 

You're one of the very few who still try to see, 

Despite the many times you've been touched and hit. 

The rabbit and the fox complete each other in every other trait 

Because or, perhaps, despite, all those scars & stitches they share. 

To the other, neither knows to lie nor bait 

Because that's something a shattering glass couldn't bear. 

Truth is, everybody needs such types of friends 

Because only they will carry you through all possible ends. 

 

20. The Most Serene 

I walk down the streets of Venice, along with a lion of a saint 

Because I truly want to feel all the joys & sorrows of living. 

It's my canvas, so I choose the colours I use to paint 

Because I often accept whatever my life keeps whispering. 

I can't say I'm the most serene, but I'm more comfortable feeling, 

And now I understand how poetry can reduce its intensity. 

I broke them all, my heart is no longer such a sealing 

 Clashing against the fog from outside the city. 

Still, to know both Yin & Yang is the spice of my world 

Because without either, life would be extremely boring or tiring…

Serenity is not experiencing only joy in every word, 

But rather, facing difficulty without sensing your brain still firing. 

You learn this lesson either in Venice or by meditating in the dark, 

But later on, you'll see how you stopped listening to any bark. 

 

21. In My Ears

Every day, the wind is growing colder in my ears 

Because I'm waiting for winter and the tranquillity it might bring. 

In serenity, all difficulty or paint still sears, 

But above the sea of anxiety, you walk upon a string. 

Not to say it doesn't touch you, but there's more clarity in your mind 

Because you taught yourself to see through fog & snow. 

You allow yourself to feel even the blood pouring from behind, 

While you fly towards the sun, although your wings have taken a blow. 

In the end, frozen flowers are beautiful for longer 

Than roses who fade just after a couple of days; 

Compared to a bonfire, a candle could burn stronger 

Because it maintains its intensity even in the worst of Mays. 

All the snow weighs heavily on the shoulders of too many, 

But they still look at me with much disgust & envy. 

 

22. To Draw Over My World 

I now take my pencil and start to draw over my world 

So I can see some colours in the greyest of towns. 

In this way, I now can hear even my own word 

About the beauty of diversity or the bold men in gowns. 

I'm not a good artist, my colours mix with those of others; 

My drawings are messy, and most people see it as an issue. 

Still, by spreading my colours, I avoid the sins of the fathers 

Because when I blow my nose, I don't want blood on any tissue. 

Whether people like my design doesn't matter 

Because I have a pencil to draw around my scars. 

I rejoice, and raise a glass for being called “the mad hatter”

Because I'm not the one who tries to get out of many bars. 

I will sing, write or paint the story of what I'm living 

Because that's how I can help friends or foes down the path of forgiving. 

 

23.  I Used to Hate Learning 

I used to hate learning, and its tedious ways of teaching, 

Especially because I heard whispers saying I should be better. 

But there was always a glass window between me and such preaching 

Because I hadn't yet learned such an awful letter. 

Then I became a beginner, and started to play in my own way, 

And I turned my study into a game of curiosity above all. 

Since then, every second becomes a different May, 

While every step dictates the dance of yet another hall. 

Now I have grown to love learning and my own means of teaching 

Because as a beginner, you notice details others fail to see. 

A story about a flight towards the sun is always ever-reaching 

Because the circle of the sun is better than drowning in the ignorance's sea. 

Your actions, and even the people you meet might return to you 

Because although power is power, a bit of knowledge is useful too. 

24. Amongst Others 

Hiding amongst others, he only changes his skin, 

While he follows me around all the squares of the town. 

I've seen him before, I know his beard, and glasses of tin, 

But when I notice his desiring smile, I'll only know to frown. 

He's always isolated and for a very good reason 

Since for him, love & obsession are two faces of the same coin. 

Now every place around feels much like a prison, 

But missing a guardian who doesn't think with his groin. 

Still, the man of 1000 faces walks around as freely as a bird 

Because nobody bothers to notice the way he lies. 

He always hides the blood on his shirt, from all I've heard, 

But if he isn't satisfied, he won't stop before somebody dies...

He says he loves you, but I trust you see beyond his words 

Because otherwise, blood will pour until the end of our worlds. 

 

25. Sensations & Perceptions 

We see colours, which often cannot make any sense 

Without an interpreter turning them into perceptions; 

A universal chairman is making everything so intense 

You just sit and watch all those complex interpretations. 

But the brain operates with a rather faulty machinery 

Because it can be tricked with parallel sounds or games of light; 

It explains why the same details in the scenery 

Can cause between eyes & head an odd fight. 

Still, it recognises touch, patterns or motion, 

Even in the absence of all complete images or senses. 

In mirror or independently, all neurons get the notion 

To coordinate every movement, every muscle that tenses. 

Sensations & perceptions can be deceiving for any mind,

Even if you're trying to explain what's happening behind. 

26. Ideas & Gossip 

How we meet people will always be a mystery to me 

Because this is how strangers become friends we hold so dear. 

We look each other in the eye, and we both like what we see, 

So we decide to stick around, through laughter & tear. 

We gather around similar films, thoughts, and books 

Because we recognise parts of ourselves in foreign minds. 

Still, if we simply try to look beyond all looks, 

We'll grow to adore the beauty of people of various kinds. 

So after a simple interaction, we learn a lot about common ticks 

Because we notice details others may often miss. 

Still, socialisation's new to me, I'm studying its tricks, 

But I'm all ears for ideas & gossip so I can ignore my mind's hiss. 

I don't understand how I make friends or what they see in me, 

But they are part of the reason why I allow myself to be. 

27. A Head Underwater 

Between joy and sorrow, I often sit just in the middle 

Because stars no longer fall so heavily on my back. 

Although all people around me are still a great riddle, 

Tears no longer feel like an attack of wolves in a pack. 

I am more calm these days, and I even smile a bit more 

Because I now appreciate both the scent and beauty of flowers. 

I feel as if I was underwater, observing what's sore  

Because I'm no longer afraid to build or destroy my towers. 

I allow myself to accept what I can feel, and see 

As nothing more than it's judged in reality. 

Because I look from the outside, although it still touches me, 

A stab of a needle or a knife is no longer a fatality. 

When you sink your head underwater, no matter how short, 

You stop listening to the muffled sounds of the port.  

28. Bodies 

Some people look at bodies and only see instruments for pleasure 

Because hormones flood the brain before any thought. 

For others, a body is synonymous with a treasure 

Since better health is the fruit for which they fought. 

For me, it's the image an artist sees before his eyes: 

A game of shapes, colours, wounds, and stitches... 

In such a position, you could never tell any lies 

Because acceptance is what a nude portrait teaches. 

Most people still think only with the lower head, 

And so they forget any feeling, philosophy or philanthropy towards a beloved one. 

It takes an asexual to bring reason against what's being said, 

Along with a sense of playfulness that's long been gone. 

Bodies are so much more than a symbol of desire, 

But be damned if any of you could see beyond your fire! 

29. To Speak in Colours 

Many people seem to love grey the most and above all 

Because it doesn't provoke, despite the risk of being boring. 

Throughout my short life, I've never heard a tale as tall 

As having to give up colours, while living in a constant snoring. 

Most will choose the small nest in which they were born 

Rather than exploring the rest of the forest in flight... 

There's a certain fear of isolation or a look of scorn 

Because nobody dares to speak in colours, to fight. 

Now I'm asking you with the honesty of an open heart: 

In which colours do you write the story of what you lived? 

I'd say each of us is often living in a work of art 

Because only humankind can birth images beyond what is believed. 

I raise a glass to the crazy ones who prefer to live in colour 

Because only they can enjoy our life's true ardour! 

30. Like a King of Cups  

Try to fit a red circle into a much smaller blue circle, 

And you'll only end up cutting through the circle's blood. 

People will probably hate your mind, regardless of how much you dare 

To allow yourself to feel the peace of your own tears in a flood 

Like a king of cups, you see, and sense what others often fail to, 

But you've convinced yourself to never speak about it; 

If you did, you'd be instantly judged as crazy too 

Because many perceive the difference as a fatal hit. 

Yet I sit here with a listening ear, open to any feeling, 

Just in case you need a pillow to punch or hold. 

Listening to your own words will break your heart's sealing 

Because falling under an avalanche will contradict all you've told. 

A brain wired weirdly can be of both immense help and trouble, 

But in contact with some others, your pain will only be double. 

31. A Truly Loud Laughter 

He has a bright smile and a peal of truly loud laughter, 

Always paired with a sore throat and tearful eyes. 

But you could never see it because of acting he's a master, 

While still letting you feel his heart without any lies. 

Phil or Merlin, Kristjan or Neil, the language is the same 

Because they all know both playful comments and the sharpness of tears: 

Merlin saw his brother die, but couldn't bear his blood's blame, 

While Neil found no meaning in accepting his father's fears. 

So why do I see myself in each of their fates, 

Even though all of them lived with a blade through their hearts? 

All knew sheer joy, but the chaos coming from the open gates 

Would overwhelm anyone beyond the colours of all arts. 

I hide behind a smile many people mistake as bright 

Because who cares about the shards of tears spilt during a fight?! 

32. Tea & Gossip 

Who doesn't love the sweet sound of gossip's word 

When you let go of judgement at a cup of tea? 

Against friends, you should never raise your sword 

If you don't want to drown in the silence's deep sea. 

Sit down, and explain to me the matters of our universe 

Or just curse your ex, and all the relatives you can't stand; 

Because of experiences, mind & feeling are so diverse, 

You can't expect connections if you write your words on a stand. 

So you need to listen at least as much as you speak 

Because that's how most people will stick around you; 

Once you understand most rules, contexts, and every trick, 

Some strangers will become friends who will listen to your crying too. 

So let's just have a cup of tea & gossip to the sound of a beating heart 

Because such interactions can birth the greatest works of art. 

33. Neuropsychology

The brain controls a complex system, rarely failing 

Because he knows what signals to send further down. 

Still, sometimes he hits the brakes and feels like bailing 

Because all different stimuli make him think he's about to drown. 

He sits above the spine, which often seems so slender, 

But works almost independently with its grey-and-white matter; 

She's the graceful dancer to a rhythm so tender 

That it's hardly ever noticed by her conscious hatter. 

There's also the medulla, a bow tie the spine wears,

Without which you'd forget breathing and heart rate. 

Then neurons cross to enact whatever the capricious duo declares 

Or to create what many outsiders will call a "rather odd trait". 

If you had to think about all these reflexes, and sounds, 

You'd be overwhelmed by the control over your heart's pounds. 

34. My Last Bowl of Salty Soup 

My last bowl of salty soup was more than horribly cooked 

Because I felt my mouth paralysing at the taste of it; 

Who is the chef, and where the hell had he even looked 

When he used the beans to give my stomach such an awful hit?! 

Its taste bites my tongue until it heavily bleeds 

Because spices contradict each other in the worst possible way. 

It stings because the chef forgot to crush any of his seeds 

Because he never knew basil doesn't bloom until May. 

I hate this soup more than anything right now; 

It's the worst dish one could ever try to make! 

I had to swallow it, but I still don't know how 

Because it tastes like a pill I'd need to be dead to take. 

I cannot stand it, although it's all I can see, 

But my last bowl of salty soup was cooked by me...

 

35. Narcolepsy 

I feel my head falling off my shoulders as my eyes close, 

Throwing me into a dreamy headache through the night. 

Is my tea working slowly as a drug in a small dose 

Or is my brain turning against itself, starting to fight? 

It feels like a strange narcolepsy with naps every hour, 

But without letting the body sleep at all; 

It's between wakefulness, and rest, leaving me so sour 

That I forget dreaming shouldn't feel like a fall. 

Sometimes, the brain fires against itself for no apparent reason 

Because its scars and burns are more obvious than ever. 

From the outside, such flogging feels like treason, 

But the suffering calls for the wiring to sever. 

36. Tattoos 

I breathe life into a drawing by telling its story, 

And suddenly the mouse holding flowers is now talking. 

These tales speak of sorrow & joy, falling & glory 

Because we like to illustrate our lives' ways of walking. 

His flowers bring him back to Hawaii, and its beauty, 

While hers are those she put on her father's gravestone; 

Whether through tears or laughter, to tell our stories is a duty 

Because what is felt remains engraved onto every bone. 

Tattoos are only a symbol telling a story on the skin, 

Which finally shows the soul to the outside world. 

Allow yourself to grow, and you'll gather your right kin 

Because otherwise not many will believe your word. 

Why argue about somebody's favourite kind of art 

When it's nothing more than a drawing of their heart? 

37.  To Only Have It in Mind 

Some people love art but only have it in mind 

Because fear drives them all away from self-expression. 

But others don't have such handcuffs to keep them behind 

Because they turn art into a half-time profession. 

On the skin, in clothes, or everywhere around the house, 

Certain people radiate creativity in every Way. 

On my leg, there's a story about a laboratory mouse 

Who will speak to you...if you listen to what he has to say. 

I love showing my colours, and one way to do this is through art 

Because the labyrinth of life is more beautiful when you design it. 

This is how you cut through all departments of your heart; 

Otherwise, your head might take a horrible hit. 

Here I am, living with the art I always think about 

Just to avoid breaking my skull with a silent shout. 

38. Call Me Merlin 

I  may laugh in many ways others do not expect, 

But be sure my laughter echoes the tears of my heart. 

If it's a twinge of mischievous playfulness that you detect, 

Then you truly speak the same language as my art. 

Call me Merlin because you'll be spellbound by my word, 

Even though I add honey to the sharp blade of a knife. 

As long as we don't insult each other, we live in the same world 

Because we can truly appreciate the comedy of life. 

So join me in a game of laughing at what we've lived 

Because humour & depression often exist in the same place. 

Nothing is too serious about us, not even what you believed 

Because in the end, nothing will ever leave a trace. 

Come sing with me, while laughing through your little tear 

Because otherwise, any little fear will always sear. 

39. Now You Notice Things 

Peace can often come from the strangest places you know 

Because in tears, you lift countless boulders off your crooked shoulders. 

When you reach a point you feel is much too low, 

You'll find your way out, albeit against all soldiers. 

When you're drowning, you shouldn't try to swim, 

But rather float, while feeling the river's movements. 

You'll be lucid, yet often feel as if you were in a dream 

Because only through acceptance will you see your own enrichment. 

And one more thing before you start losing your mind: 

Allow yourself to be a beginner, to be curious above all; 

That's how you forget what's ahead, and what's behind, 

While finally listening to your own voice's insistent call. 

Now you notice things others often fail to see, 

And it's a gift you acquired partly thanks to me. 

40. Despite the Glass In-between 

 I could enjoy the holidays if it wasn't for my relatives 

Who feel entitled just by having such a rank. 

Despite the glass in-between, and all their positives, 

We don't know each other enough to make gifts beyond a bank. 

It feels forced when aunts and uncles say "Happy Birthday", 

But said by a friend it's the greatest compliment I can hear. 

From relatives, it's a phrase they just have to say, 

But from true bothers it's a pill against a bitter tear. 

Times of celebration are always bittersweet for me 

Because I'm tired of people gifting weightless feathers. 

This is the curse you get for looking beyond what you see, 

But at least I'm indifferent towards all the different "whether's". 

Holidays are for me as new and beautiful as any other day, 

But I'll probably resent them until my last May. 

41. Those Who Scream In Contradiction 

I've proven before how people rarely think with their own heads, 

But rather with those who scream in contradiction all around. 

This is what Pandora's chest expectantly dreads 

Since History continues to make the loudest sound. 

In times of crisis, people are more divided than ever, 

While forgetting we're all living through the same shit. 

When we lose our balance, we always start to sever 

Until the dearest of our friendships take a fatal hit. 

People turn to the past when the present stings 

Even though back then it was invisibly worse. 

In such ears, the sound of reason never sings 

Because arguing against feeling is beating a dead horse. 

We're all doomed, but I'm still here, writing my sonnet 

Against a church with many bees in its bonnet. 

42. Samsara 

We live in a world I would like to call never-ending 

Because when one life ends, you return just in another form: 

The cardiologist who died yesterday as an attending 

Might return tomorrow to another faculty's dorm. 

It's karma that drives samsara forever forward 

Because the energy we spread returns in the same way. 

If you stop searching an enlightenment, you'll see it from now onward; 

If you accept your suffering, you'll see it as just another day. 

You look for a sense where there really isn't any, 

And you get caught in suffering, in self-destruction. 

That's why one life or lie will become too many, 

And you'll live forever, though with a different introduction. 

Living can be a beautiful addiction to pain, 

But every second grants a new lesson to gain. 

43. The Circus in My Town 

Above there is a loud circus of people 

Who each take on a different role, every single day: 

Today he screams we've been robbed, and that salaries should be triple; 

Tomorrow he'll fight against injustice until his last May. 

A monkey is mistaking simple words, trying to sound clever, 

While the donkey brays about the pride of a nation. 

An overzealous snake is constantly trying to sever 

All necessary access to balanced information. 

Whoever turns against such whirlwinds with wide-open eyes 

Will have their ears marked like all the black sheep. 

Still, iron truth shatters all the glass lies, 

And poisonous flowers have no effect on the hideouts in the deep. 

Without The White Rose, half of Germany could've ceased to exist, 

And without The Resistance, Mussolini wouldn't have known a clenched fist. 

44. Ca Geo 

Who the hell died, and allowed you to become king?! 

You speak of people, yet you push them towards violence! 

I'll be the harbinger of repair, that's what I'm trying to sing 

Because extremes never rise without resistance. 

A fire burns in those who see humanity in rights, 

And its smoke chokes those who argue against it. 

Blood and lives have been lost throughout the never-ending fights 

Because kings and popes are blind whenever they hit. 

United by our differences, we will not let fascism pass 

Because this century should not mirror the previous one! 

If the blood of denial is a norm, and our mere humanity makes a fuss, 

It's time to rise, to fight against what's being done! 

If we agree in silence, we will never see the future we seek 

Because fear and comfort will always make people meek. 

45. A West Wind Whistles 

Under rain or under the most cruel of all snows, 

With arms full of ink or whiplash scars on the back, 

We always rise taller than how weed often grows 

Whenever we need fresh air or a push towards a better track. 

From the right point of view, you can feel the winds changing, 

And it's your choice to become an ivy or grow into a rose. 

Succumb to such flashes of lightning, and our youth will stop ageing 

Because they'll die fighting against what you feed them in a high dose. 

A west wind whistles, and it often agitates the storm 

Because resistance will always break the toughest of walls. 

Our legs are giving out, so our resistance might take on another form 

Because our ears are deaf to all extreme calls. 

On a raft, we rise against a swollen river 

Because when lead covers all skies, nobody should be a believer! 

46. Telemachus 

Quick wit usually wins even in a rather dumb fight 

Because fists are nothing without a levelled head. 

You may not be strong, but if your mind is bright, 

You will be the one to finally reach the golden thread. 

You might as well bite him when he tries to punch you, 

But you need to be quick, and let your instinct loose. 

Your eyes, and nose are bleeding, and your skull might be too, 

Yet now you can uppercut him right before you lose. 

Antinous looks down on Telemachus, sees him as weak, 

Because the latter lacks his father's military fire. 

Athena's gift helps him, though blood isn't something to seek, 

While his opponent still laughs at having to call him "sire". 

When his head bleeds, pain always makes him cry 

Although he knows Antinous is weaving a lie. 

47. Loki & Hermes 

You'll never see my hand on the blind archer's bow, 

But you will notice a grin and strands of red hair. 

In chaos, a diplomat like me can only grow 

Because a snake coils around, above, and beyond any layer. 

I deliver messages throughout all different worlds, 

And always hear voices in my ears, while I'm flying. 

Though I try to listen carefully to my brother's words, 

Naivity always makes me adore the thrill of lying. 

I am the harbinger of chaos for the sheer fun of it 

Because I love a twinge of drama in my song. 

And I send a message to the hero who finally takes his fatal hit, 

While holding his hand before speaking Charon's tongue. 

Why attempt to avoid life's mischievous laughter 

When you can playfully laugh along, and become a fighter? 

48. Twins 

Every morning, Apollo brings you the guiding light through the day, 

While he whispers a song to lead forward your heart. 

Still, he smiles when you heal others' pain in the heat of May, 

Or when you see yourself in a portrait, in your own art. 

Artemis brings stars above your head when you can't sleep, 

And agrees with your choice to remain child-free. 

If a man craves you against your will, she'll throw him into the deep, 

While guiding you through the night beyond what you can see. 

Twins always contrast, and balance each other out: 

There's darkness in light, and scattered shimmers through the dark. 

So when you're in danger or need a creative hand to help you out, 

Do listen to their songs, and you'll be sure to see an incredible mark. 

 Twins usually have opposite, yet similar colours; 

If not a twin by blood, you might find one through your honours. 

49.  Flowers of the Mind 

I look beyond the surface, but sometimes there's nothing to see 

Because most people rarely care about the flowers of the mind. 

The blood under the belt is all many a man wants from me 

Because it's too much to ask for ideas, for a look from the inside. 

Many scream about what women shouldn't do before they agree 

Since their pleasure is always at the highest possible stake. 

From such eyes, I shouldn't be here, studying for a degree 

Because a thinking mind is much harder to overtake. 

I swear the anaesthetic is a drug only a man could invent 

Because the brain below the belt thinks faster than the one above. 

So many are dim and narrow, the core of what I resent 

Because what they call love is nothing but a bleeding dove. 

Don't try to lecture me about the flowers of my mind 

Because you'll stare at them anyway, albeit from behind. 

50. All Suitors Whisper 

All suitors whisper verses they hope I don't hear 

About messing with my blood, letting only Poseidon know. 

I wish I could do anything  besides voicing my fear 

Because I'm too small to control the fire of His bow. 

They're getting impatient, and want to see me bleed 

Because I'm the only one trying to defend the crown. 

The suitors are too many, but all follow the same creed; 

Boy, how I wish I could make them all drown! 

I tried to fight, but I was pinned to the ground, 

Feeling my bones shatter, my face bleed, and my eyes start to water. 

But soon I heard the clattering of swords, an arrow's familiar sound, 

Followed by the smell of blood, a memory of slaughter. 

"You dare to lay a finger on my little boy?! 

I'll show you what Achilles left in Troy!" 

51. Cat Trust 

Some people come to me and instantly offer their cat trust; 

What am I supposed to do with rabbits instead of a hidden thorn?! 

Long ago had I forgotten my shield, it's now full of rust, 

But still, in my head, 1000 questions are born. 

What switched a button and made you stick around? 

Am I just blind or have I tricked you in any specific way? 

You laugh at my jokes, what a foreign sound! 

I don't reckon I'll understand your choice until my last May. 

Like Sherlock Holmes, I couldn't picture being anybody's best friend 

Since my presence is too often the most unpleasant. 

You speak without a scorpion tail, and I'll follow you until the end 

Because to me, friendship is a relatively new present. 

I still don't get what you could possibly see in me, 

But I will always appreciate that you just let me be. 

52. Living & Breathing 

I don't know what to write about other than my bored mind 

Because I have nothing but a desert upstairs. 

Nothing is approaching from behind: 

No screams or blind eyes, no floods or flares. 

What if my Minotaur is the consistency of balance? 

What if living & breathing became boring? 

I used to walk into the boar's den with elegance 

Until I realised his tusks were not what I was adoring... 

My brain is blocked and I don't know how to speak 

Because words and letters get lost in between my ears. 

How can I free myself? This is not what I seek; 

Now that it's warm, all sunlight seems to sear. 

I'm still bored, my brain, and body aren't on speaking terms, 

Despite all the chaotic words, and odd squirms. 

53. My Brain's Scatterplot 

My brain is like a scatterplot with no correlation 

Because thoughts vary extremely in such a huge cloud. 

I cannot get them to focus in a single direction, 

Unless a new obsession is getting too loud. 

Regardless of the p-value, the significance will be the same 

Since a tsunami of thoughts can quickly turn into a blockage. 

My own brain is the sole dictator I can blame 

Since he's responsible for my ships' wreckage. 

Cohen's d shows an increasingly large effect 

Because my brain is always racing without any direction. 

Nevermind, this is just a harmless defect, 

Which often makes boredom feel like an infection. 

Such a brain cannot put one thought above another, 

But when he does, he focuses like no other. 

54. A Different Language 

I feel like I speak a different language not many understand 

Because they look at me as if I had six fingers. 

Still, it's not the isolation I can't stand, 

But rather the frustration of misunderstandings that lingers. 

Yes, I do know how weirdly I usually speak, 

And I used to hate it as much as you do now. 

However, I can't say your words are completely Greek 

Because what I say never makes sense, I don't know how. 

I guess my brain is just out of frequency, or so, 

But who gives a fuck as long as we can get along? 

If we don't, it might just be your blow 

Because you'll miss out on a colourful song. 

So I came to speak my language only with those who understand it 

Because otherwise, my own head would take an awful hit. 

55. Locked Between Walls 

Locked between walls, all whispers ring loudly in my ears, 

And so I hear all the news about my family, friends, and birth town. 

Still, there's a simple word which always, always sears; 

Everyone screams about how I wear a broken crow. 

I don't understand all the looks that they throw at me, 

Nor do I get all the cold winds of their gestures. 

All because I say what I notice or see; 

But I'm not even counted amongst the successors. 

I get it, I see things differently, and I act like no other; 

I know I'm not helping, but I don't want to lock my doors either. 

I think it'd be better if I never existed, rather, 

Because it's easier to live without such a creature. 

Some fear me, which is fair, 

But some others search for me; why do they care? 

 

(source of the image: Jones, L. (2011, March 27). Bosie’s love letters point to cover-up in Oscar Wilde trial | The Independent. The Independent. https://www.independent.co.uk/news/people/news/bosie-s-love-letters-point-to-coverup-in-oscar-wilde-trial-2254136.html )