Friday, December 20, 2013

Grey Racism

Once my sister told me that when she was a little girl she used to look at those black and white movies and think that life was also black and white in those days. Was it? Maybe, we can never know.

What I do know is only after what she said I realized that our world is truly colorful. I started watching the old movies from a different point of view. I was doing my best to catch the missing colors in each scene, trying to guess the shades that were hidden in black, white, and grey. Can you imagine if life truly was black and white? Black sun and white moon in the black sky, grey sunsets and oceans. Grey trees slowly dancing with the white wind and black flowers around it.
And... grey people, all the same, walking down the grey streets. I wonder what people would come up with then to substitute racism. Different shades of grey? Maybe, maybe not, but most likely we would come up with something. We people love to point fingers at others, we like to create differences and then label people according to them. We have an urge to belong to groups, therefore we invent those groups. It doesn't really matter what we call those groups, religions or political parties, they are still just labels that we proudly wear to know that we are part of something. Why? Fear of being alone, unique, different? Fear of being pointed at by another group?
How easily we pick roles and then quickly adapt to them, We do things because we should, we are supposed to, because that's what the role is automatically telling you to do. We take actions that are expected, not from who we are but from the role we picked. The saddest part of it, however, is the fact that we ourselves believe in those roles, we wear the costumes believing that those are us, we proudly represent the fiction as our own life.
Colors... One of the biggest gifts of our world. We admire it when it is out there in nature, away from us, but when it comes to our own skin we label it, we divide it into groups and start pointing at each other. You think blue flowers dislike the red ones? Sounds silly, doesn't it. But look at what we are doing people, apparently flowers are smarter then us.
Colors... once my sister thought me to really appreciate them, because we could have a black and white life like the old movies.

Friday, December 13, 2013


We're only ghosts my love
There isn't much to life

We come and go
Like many did
And at the end
That's all we need

We're only ghosts, my dear.
There's nothing left in here.

Thursday, December 5, 2013


And here they are, years later
Sharing only the awkward silence
Neither friends, nor lovers
Hiding, behind the darkness.

Monday, December 2, 2013

I wish my soul was a dancer

I wish my soul was a dancer
Things would be so easy then
All fears, thoughts and the emotions
I would simply dance away.

I wish my soul was a dancer
So it could always stand up strong,
Seem fragile but inside a warrior
Firm, flexible, and never wrong.

I could dance away my worries
Feel the glory of free soul,
I would express my self in moves
Like nobody has seen before.

I would be able to jump so high,
That my fingers would reach the sky.
I would waltz along with starts,
Touch the sun with painless scars.

If my poor soul was a dancer
Tango would be the tune of my heart.
I would jive away my sadness,
For my dancer soul, nothing would be hard.

I wish my soul was a dancer
So it could lead a life its own.
My own path would've been so much better
If only my soul was a dancer.

Sunday, December 1, 2013

My self-portrait of You

I drew a portrait of myself
And there were you...

I was looking at the reflection of my face
And seeing you, staring back at me.
I saw your eyes throughout my own
And felt the touch of your soft hand
Upon my painted cheek.

An oily paint of tear run down
And you were there to catch it,
My brush was redening my lips
But it was you who put a smile on it.

I painted my dark hair
Falling down up to my shoulders
And I could feel your hand
Softly playing through them,
My brush put on the black waves
But it was you 
That moved them away from my face

I couldn't help but notice
Your eyes staring back at me
Through my own gaze
Warming and protecting me.

I drew a self-portrait
And had to capture You in it,
Because that's how I see myself
With marks left by you all over it.