Tag Archives: life

The Eternal Hitchhiker

Posted in Poetry English by

A cosmic fable of kindness, exhaustion, and the price of wandering.

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People call him the eternal hitchhiker;

he hitchhikes rides on the shooting stars

Hoping to reach some peaceful planet,

away from the chaos and the raging wars

But each time he hitches a ride,

he pays a certain heavy price

He pays it with a piece of his heart,

each time, sadly, an odd roll of the dice

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People call him the eternal hitchhiker;

he hitchhikes rides on the shooting stars

Hoping to find light, joy, and happiness,

within the darkness that kills and scars

But each time he hitches a ride,

he realizes what has always been clear

He can give happiness - anytime to anyone,

but to be unhappy forever is his only fear

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People call him the eternal hitchhiker;

he hitchhikes rides on the shooting stars

Hoping to finally rest and laugh aloud,

amongst the butterflies and a million flowers

But each time he hitches a ride,

his dreams are burnt and turn into cinders

It’s time to stop hitching rides forever;

it’s time to finally sleep in the eternal winters

The Last Song

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When the last song is sung, nothing is denied—not love, not guilt, not longing.

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Come let us sit by this brightly burning fire;

let us forget all and everything, the good and the dire

Let the high flames defrost our frozen souls,

all the cold voids within and all the black holes

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Come let us search for and grab our broken violins;

let us sing songs, and remember and repent our sins

Let the warmth of our company mend our broken hearts,

all the joys and regrets - together and in parts

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Come let us lament, the fading memory of old love;

let us caress our nostalgia - the delicate, grey dove

Let the stories we tell mark our long and sad past,

let them cherish our tears, which dried up so fast

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Come let us remember innocence, which was lost forever;

let us applaud corruption, the seduction was so very clever

Let us rethink all our deeds, so lofty and so dark,

let us not pass a harsh judgment, with a red mark

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Come let us sit by this brightly burning fire;

let us blow it anew, the flames loftier and higher

Let us say farewell to everything, ambition, and desire;

warmly welcoming the end, the savior, and the pyre

The Miserable End of a Failed Hero

Posted in Poetry English by

A brutal dialogue between a broken mortal and a mocking god.

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Receding deep into yourself, being enfolded in layers,

blanking out the chaos of complicated relationships

Tightly wrapped within a cocoon of your icy, cold self,

the harsh and cruel reality is the one and final eclipse

That is your nirvana, that is your long, torturous bliss,

that’s what’s written by fate, in all its useless scripts

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Your cocoon will hang forever - the dangling shell,

on a grey cracked wall, in the hall of eternal sadness

There it will hang, and you will squirm deep within,

away from the merry crowds, the throbbing madness

That will be your heaven, and that will be your hell,

both equally quiet, under the ever-ruling darkness

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When the bored God visits and knocks at the cocoon,

asking if you are still alive within the silent confines

You will scream from within, a long tormented wail,

‘I did what you asked me to do, I followed all the lines

I crushed my own ego, I buried it deep and still alive,

damning myself to patience, despite all the odd signs’

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And the God will laugh, He will laugh long and hard,

‘you pathetic asshole, you miserably crawling bastard

You tried to fight fate, but you failed to learn from life,

you were no crowned hero, you were merely a dastard

Now burn forever in your heaven, as it is also your hell,

self-torture is the only art you have really mastered’

Life isn’t Fair, My Friend

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Too little time and too much to do, too little air and too much to breathe—and now the pale sun dips low, autumn surrenders to frost, and a dying voice begs: don’t wait.

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Life isn’t fair, my friend; life isn’t fair at all

Once there was…,

Too little time and too much to do;

and too little air and too much to breathe

Too little space and too much to woo;

and too little energy and too much to reap

Too limited a vision and too much to see;

and too small a mind and too much to learn

Too little wisdom and too much taken as free;

and too small a choice and too many boats to burn

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Life isn’t fair, my friend; life isn’t fair at all

Once there was…,

All those I could have loved, but didn’t,

and all those I shouldn’t have, but did

All those I could have blessed, but didn’t,

and all those I shouldn’t have, but did

Knowledge I could have gained, but didn’t,

and knowledge I shouldn’t have accessed, but did

Things that I could have passed on, but didn’t,

and things that I shouldn’t have, but did

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Life isn’t fair, my friend; life isn’t fair at all

Now…,

The pale sun is dipping low in the West,

and the wind has stopped ruffling my hair

The chaos is all tired and preparing to rest,

and the eternal silence is almost here

The autumn is surrendering fast to the frost,

and the ideas have stopped painting my imagination

The violins have hushed, and all will is lost,

and ambition has ceased to move my determination

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Life isn’t fair, my friend; life isn’t fair at all

Please, I beg you…,

Go do what you want and go reap what you need,

be kind to all around you and get rid of your greed

Go see what you desire and go learn what you can,

understand all that you like, no need for any plan

Go love whoever you want, go follow your dream,

go bless even your enemies, no use of any scheme

Go make a legacy and at all costs, pass it on,

don’t delay, just move, don’t wait for a new dawn

A Dialogue with the Mirror

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‘You wretched beast, you pitiful ghoul’ —the cruelest conversations are the ones we have with ourselves.

An intense, confrontational poem structured as a dialogue between the speaker and their mirror reflection, exploring the painful disconnect between outward appearance and inner reality. Through powerful metaphors of shattered mirrors, extinguished suns, and lightning-struck trees, this raw verse examines the masks we wear and the darkness we hide.

You! Yes you – you wretched beast!

perhaps you are me or just another priest

Trying to creep and trying to crawl,

within my sad existence, a great, dark hall

Trying to wear and trying to see,

my skin, through eyes silent as the dead sea

You! Yes you, you pitiful ghoul!

perhaps you are wise or just an old fool

Don’t try to understand my twisted life,

a tree struck by lightning, yet playing the fife 

I stand strong and mighty, towering over all,

strength is what I feign, in the end I will fall  

You! Yes you, you pathetic creature!

perhaps you are true or just a damn preacher

Don’t try to love my tired and broken soul,

I look like a knight and inside, I am just a troll

I am but a mirror, shattered into a million shards,

keeping you all blind, I always hide my cards

You! Yes you, you faded, grey wraith!

perhaps you are ignorant or just acting on faith

Don’t try to be kind, with empathy on a roll,

a sun with extinguished fires, I am a lost soul

My sins were all black, they spoke of my desires,

my regret is now cold, just ashes and burnt pyres