Montag, 23. Januar 2012

The hell with you; a drunken pain

Hey you, are you listening out there? Are you there at all? Why are you doing all that? What did I do to you? To you personally I mean, why do you want to hurt me?  What are you counting on? Why the child has to suffer? Why did you do that? You are no better and you know that. Now, now, wait.. the child has a father and you took it from him. How little ugly and scum can you be? It walks around, look at it.. LOOK AT IT!! Open your eyes that are already blind form to see how you are lost, how your soul is trashed, is dirty, is gone, how you were falling to the ugly, falling to the lie, falling to the phony, falling to the fake to the aggressive to the not real, do you LISTEN TO ME???  You take a child his dad, his father, do you get that? Is it what is all about, being “free” from me? But you can not and will never be, I am all over there, stop and take the child in your arms and look into its eyes.. you see ME.. you see ME!. You see what you have taken away from the living creature, from that living organism, from that living fragile and love needing human.. You devil will not have a sex or whatever gender when standing to court in front of the allmighty…  I curse you to go to hell. (a drunken father in his pain)

Sonntag, 22. Januar 2012

Cruel world, I am leaving you today






Cruel world, I am leaving you today, goodbye, goodbye,... Goodbye! (Pink Floyd)
Thousands of daddies like yours can not hold on, cannot stand the cruelty and the permanent attempts to humiliate them, my child..  they say bad things on daddy, nothing is true but not to be a part of himself torn apart daddies.. the cruelty. Every day. The viciousness. The ugliness. The knowing that you can not so a thing about it except for to go after them and make your sentence with them.. but then you recognize the devil, the evil, the bad and the wrong and you know that this is not what you can do, to give back badness for lost love. And god will except us not like this, crawling in our self defeat, crawling to feet of the altar. . to the feet of the eternity power that collect and streams the souls to their core, to be in rest and all pains are subsidize, all screams in ears are silent, alls moments of agony and nightmares are substituted into long halting silence, so silent.. so silent like a fade violin music.. sounding from the distance.. and a slow blowing wind carry you to a place you know is good…
(every little country has its big number of lost souls, separated from us because we fail to listen)

How will you know who the part in you is?

She cut you off, your mother. Your mother cuts you off. She thinks you are only a half, but you are not my dear, you are a whole, you have a grandpa and a grandma, I want to tell you about them but you cannot read and you cannot sense it. What will it be? How will you know while I am alive, from me, from your dad, that saw him, your Grandpa and she did not see your grandma and grandpa.
One day  I will go to another world, be put in the stream to join other tired souls, one day I will be gone. Who will tell you who I am? How will you know who you are? Where you came from and how many brave people were there to build everything that you have?
How will you know who the part in you is? 
If I will have enough power to stay, I will tell you.. I will tell you about times when bravery, dignity, cleanness were all that a man needed to brought all the family through the hard times, to build little houses and fix striking little agriculture machines. About times when the harvest was scarce and the tides high, when the fish were not enough and the illness and wars took us apart; the faces of your aunties and uncles and the stories that goes on and own from one generation to the other, from me your dad to your children. .. My daughter.

Once upon a time there was a little princess



Once upon a time there was a little princess, she was so little and fragile that the king has sent millions of messengers as far as the Persian Gulf to find the finest silk cocoons to pollster her bed. The princess was so little that she did not know the king was sending messengers riding on fast horses to very distant places to find the silk cocoons for her bed, she was only  happy to see the face of the king nearing hers in bed and whispering to her a good night every evening after telling stories of castles and princes, recognizing in that image all that is safety and strong and good and the eyes were like big glimmering deep oceans; her father.

Sonntag, 1. Januar 2012

Why do I know that you will grow up to hate me?




Little one, I am so sorry for this entire world and for that I could not do any better. I know, I was there before, I should have known. Why you had to come to earth like that and suffer. The moment you were there, the very second, I sensed that, I knew. This is our test and the question ‘why’, will echo for ever end ever.
There was nothing more that I wanted then, like every other dad, to have you but this world is full of hate and bloodshed and bitterness so you had to come with love and understanding  and not by trying to humiliate me which is absolutely none of your fault and you need never think like that. But why do I know that you will grow up to hate me?
There are winds of war outside, all are tensed and ready. Some are still lying to themselves and fantasize a world that doesn’t exist, a world that they have won; they refuse to see how much agony and danger they brought on us all. They are triumphing about taking your daddy away and they will tell you that you don’t need one.  
 Today is the first day of a year that could be the last one, the last before the rage of the Maia’s Gods or whatever, will fall on earth and finish this comedy. If it’s true or not, I can’t judge, this is too big, but I know that the last year for me was already, several years ago.
When I heard you will come to earth and I have already lost you, it was the last day as well. There will be no first day of the year to celebrate anymore. There will be no holidays to be happy about, people celebrate to stamp a period of time with happiness or to celebrate the upcoming days. My days will come and go and I will watch them passing by, writing to other adults that decides things that only God can, that only our faith is allowed, not to know you growing.
Not to know what cause you happiness and what are your fears. If I was there to listen about the monsters that comes out at night from under your bed I would have told you. The monsters from under your bed are real; they are out there in the offices with the smiling old women.
Outside I can hear the voices of people celebrating and laughing like they have a reason to and my heart is only racing for hours until it hurt and stops. But a man should stand straight, he cannot walk on four like the little dogs, and the part of me in you knows that too.
I saw your confusion from far away; I saw that you know deep inside that something is missing badly; Your Daddy.