Wednesday, 19 December 2007


nisipurile libiei se asterneau tacute
peste ei in ei
inveleau navaleau
pliurile cancerului
clipoceala apei
pieptul greu de ani
Am iubit mereu
cercul pe care-l face inceputul
cu sfarsitul.
Carnea sfanta a asteptarii
mi s-a asezat tacuta
pe tample
Nu s-a incheiat,
nu, nu inca

nasterea formei

Am vazut deodata
ceva minunat,
si nu eram departe.
Lemn in 3 forme
podeaua a tasnit spre mine
neteda, lucioasa, cu arcul luminii
subtiat lenes intr-o parte
lemnul forma nesfarsit monoton
forma 1
Pe monotonul formei 1
sta arcuit, cioplit, incapator,
construit sa primeasca,
un scaun cu picioarele romb.
forma 2.
forma 1
si forma 2
sunt in ele insele forme
vazandu-le nu mai am nimic
de cerut,
forma unu imi umple pieptul
forma doi implineste asteptarile
Ochiul roteste satisfacut:
forma unu, forma 2.
Usa! In volumul ochiului
S-a lovit oglindindu-se usa.
In ele insele, cele 3 sunt
forme pefecte
ochiul meu e satisfacut
pieptul plin
maini, picioare, nas, urechi,
inca nu am
formele trei implinesc desavarsit
nevoile mele.
Gol. Usa e pliata
vertical paralel se lafaie
un intuneric, un gol.
Ceva in ochiul meu
e nedumerit, si napraznic,
vin inspre mine senzatii noi
ochiul meu se plimba pe
forma 1 monotona
forma 2 curbata
forma 3, care in ele insele
erau perfecte si asteptarile
mele in ele se intregeau
Nu privi mai sus!
Cuminte, ochiul se intoarce
la primul triunghi.
Dar mai e ceva...
Ceva neimplinit
o nostalgie
ce e nu mai e egal cu ce a fost
ochiul meu oglindeste, in
forme, reflectia mincinoasa
a unui intuneric care-a fost
care e chiar indarat, dedesubt,
sustinut de forma 3.
Mana mea dreapta se trezeste
A apuca. Ce ochiul oglindeste
mana se ridica, apuca.
Nu mai sunt una, sunt
Triunghiul formei imi apare
mic, circumastantial, marunt,
cand deschiderea formei,
defscaerea intunericului,
imi arunca spre ochi,
spre nas, spre urechi,
grele de senzatii, minunate
miriadele de forme.

Tuesday, 20 November 2007

filosofie manga

"Eventually you will die.. lay there and live as long as you will"

Friday, 9 November 2007

visul unui om care nu vrea sa se trezeasca

sunt intr-un tren unde ferestrele, usile si peretii au aceeasi culoare palida de maro. Copilul proiecteaza filme pe peretii si ferestrele trenului. Trenul se invarte in cerc. Copilul priveste proiectiile. Am vazut 4 filme.. Am vazut 5, 6, spun eu. Sau poate doar 4, ba nu, 5-6 filme am vazut.

Thursday, 8 November 2007


desenez in creion
linii la intamplare
el imi arata forma
vazuta de sus, el si ea
vazuta de jos, el si ea
maro si albastru
ochii ei sunt ingusti

after hate

love feels the emptiness with so warmth, release, relief, calm joy and peacefulness

love totally
hate totally

my middle path


and love
come together
great amount of energy released
i love hate, outburst of energy
love, on the other hand, does much better to your stomach

Sunday, 28 October 2007

Din trecut

Te iubesc cand nu esti. Cand te apropii, dispar.
Fa-ma sa-mi iubesc trupul. O sa-mi amintesc.

Friday, 5 October 2007


fanta cerului de unde se scurge lumina
priviti, e un porumbel alb
din ciocul lui ia forma o picatura de viata
din imaginea cerului curge infricosator si albastru un cal maiestuos
ia forma luminii
ia forma sunetelui
sunetul devine culoare
culoarea devine argint
metalul din inima pamantului se rascoala impotriva materiei
hei, sacul asta il car demult
demult il car
nu mai am scapare
ieri de aruncam sacul imi aruncam mana dreapta
alaltaieri de imi aruncam sacul jumatate din corp
jumatate din corp
imi aruncam
si mai demult inca intre mine si sac nu era diferenta
dar acum
acum luati sacul asta
sacul asta nu mai are intrebuintare
in el tot ce-i bun si tot ce-i rau in lumea asta
a fost
dar acum nu mai are intrebuintare
sacul devine greu ca o frunza
usor ca un melc
mainile mele libere se joaca in mii de cristale
ca o viata netraita
ca un copil nenascut
asa imi canta materia pe la urechi
si doamne, cantecul asta
neauzit de urechile omenesti a fost
cand mai era inca viata
viata era a sacului
dar acum fara viata
tot universul odihneste
intre mainile mele

fara sfarsit

ei doi mergeau pe o strada senina. de-a latul strazii strajuiau stejari. in stejari secerile nu mai fusesera smulse demult. leganau incetosate de lacrimi. picurau. gangureau. nimeni nu le mai crea. gandurile curgeau libere, lesurile gandurilor gandite ramaneau agatate de ferestre, lumina lor palpaia incet si se stingea. sunetele se inmulteau in jurul lor, haotice, cristaline, bulversante, inmultite de culori, de proiectia luminii in straturi. materia se scurgea incet din sunet in forma din forma in sunet. si inca nu m-am inmultit. si inca nu m-am inceput. si inca mai sunt. gandi el. ea nu gandea. simturile ei erau ascutite ca materia si usoare ca lumina. palpaia stejarul sub fruntea ei. mainile ei clatinau incet culorile din ape. parul ei fulguia pe langa zid. cand ea trecea, raul era rau, ea era rau. cand ea trecea campul era camp ea era camp. taurul de trecea pe langa ea lumina ei lua forma taurului si taurul se inmultea in ea si din ea in sunet si din sunet in forma. si lumea ei nu mai avea sfarsit.

cuvantul alb

ciocanitoarea rosie
cocosul incetosat de lacrimi

uneori cuvientele, cand au atasate de ele intelesuri, pot crea lumi incredibile

dar cuvantul alb?

Thursday, 27 September 2007

About mind

I am in no philosophical mood today, actually things piled up and it's the black moon season, everything that was neatly arranged came in heavy disorder due to unforseeable circumstances. But this stayed in mind, I have re-read it today, from a quick note on the back of one of my student notebooks. Wrote it in 2005, during a course, it was autumn, and people around me were maybe inspiring, and the lecture was interesting. At one point I wrote "I wanna be an Innuit!". I vaguely remember that this I really felt, after hearing some short (and maybe stereotypical) info about Innuits. Innuit means true man. (Actually, you would be amazed to know how many people, especially the North-American settlers before the colonists, called themselves "man", or "true man"). So I wanted to be an Innuit. And that same day, or the day after, below I wrote about mind. The conclusion is heavy: the physical world is just mind activated. It seems ultimate and too heavy, yet it is the result of much introspection, and much observation. And the interpretation of some historical data. When ideas meant to change the environment around us come about, they are gathering momentum to change the world around us, already. On one condition: that the potential for this change already exists there in the environment. The potential for radio waves transmission, data package transmission, for flying and for voice transmission has been all there for centuries, millenia, billions of years. This applies not only to the physical world around us, but also to the human being. the huge potential the human being has - should I say of perception and knowledge, or of state, or of being - is there, lies there in each individual (so don't you look down on people, that potential is the same in all); untouched, there it stays, just as the potential to fly stayed there when people took months to cross the seas and reach another continent; that potential - should I say fly - seems incredible, just as the potential to fly by plane seemed incredible some eras ago. And yet, things impossible became possible, because the mind of man choose to activate not itself, but its surroundings. Instead of going in, it went out. Instead of revolutionizing the individual, it revolutionized its environment. Instead of going beyond senses, it went beyond imagination in changing that which the senses could hold. This direction of the OUT is reachable, more handy, is it because in this direction, though individuals minds create, communities propel, use, diffuse and benefit, so cycles are reinforced? Instead of growing individuals to fit into societies, could societies breed individuals who break free of societies? It is tricky for me the power that the OUT direction has acquired, and the secret, and the esoteric and the hidden nature of the knowledge which surround the IN direction of activating potential. We know how to fly, but don't know where we come from. We are masters of our environment, but not of our lives, of our weaknesses and potential for pain. Just rhetorical: instead of a feeble, contextual and confined line of teaching for the IN direction, is there the possibility to expand that teaching to all?

Tuesday, 25 September 2007

living work of art

not thinking about Amsterdam's living manequins, and not an abstract concept at all. to make your life a living work of art, you just need small jolts, in exactly those moments when all things of daily life pile up and tend to change life into a nightmare. these jolts are like pushes or changing perspective, or choosing willingly a different attitude over the other. it requires some good will, cause it is about choosing else when your whole self says you should drop it. it's about choosing, in the hell of a working day, to leave all behind, go out and take a photo of the bundle of plants just in front, which you never noticed. it's about photographing the moon. laughing wholeheartedly to release sadness or stress, when everybody around you is going about the day under the burden of a unique thought of escape, out there, somehow. or to make it simple, just be there, wherever you are, remembering that you are where you are and nothing, no change of place or of entourage can get you happier or more fulfilled. oh, it's just about the internal attitude. worth trying. and yes, this is how your life can be a living work of art. create it, then let it flow, and then again, not looking back. there's no end.

Monday, 24 September 2007


Non c'รจ canto dell'incanto altro che la voce del silenzio

Tuesday, 18 September 2007

florile de cires

Florile de cires cad cand sunt inca in floare
de aici toata povestea
nu trebuie sa mori tanar
doar sa fii mereu in floare si mereu pregatit sa mori