Those Nihilist Clouds

On the swelling river hurled the shadows,
Heading heedless to the valley.
Crumbling unto each fragment of its soul,
Scaling new heights with selfless journey.
Cutting your throat to free and fly
O! boundless cloud, and to dance with the whole.
In all the forlorn seasons, life’s sprout
Wrapped in perpetual mirages.
Wuthering winds of delicate verses
Chanted to mute familiar silence of absurdity.
Yet through your beautiful tendrils
Blossoms the glorious dawns.


As the breeze sneaks through the window
We lay naked on the floor fingers hooked.
Night trmebles like the candle flame
Far is dawn, let’s make love again.
Your burning lips soaked in wine
Crushed myself in desire to drown.
Your long hair is like stream,
That is descended from hilltop.
Your breasts are like lotus buds,
Awaiting warmth of fingers.
Your breath is like a flame,
Which smells stemmed roses.
Far is dawn, let’s make love again.

C’est La Vie

All of a sudden your silence is sailing through my heart
Do you feel the heat around your ears?
Sing to me the way you did until last night to ease
crumbling anguish and its weight on my chest.
Never in years you enthralled by un-freedom of Jailers,
Why did you sing all night long for me in the dungeon gloom?
Walls of justice threw me in this abyss with you,
All they call justice is what they see through their tiny prism.
On your pale body I painted Anne’s tits out of saudade.
Laws that shatters accord of existence,
In vain detains the ambivalent sheep and men.
Five in the morning, when God is still hiding his face
I’ll be at the scaffold, tell my story to your new friend.


Falling in slow spirals the dry leaves,
Whirling blissfully to decay themselves.
Somber wind smelled whisky, thus an old bit of emotion.
Blurry words in your letters still made me cry in oblivion.
It’s so odd, flashing your face in head while sleeping
to the scent of naked tits of women I’m dating.
Sufi-like dry leaves bid farewell to the trees in harmony,
They owe nothing between to persist in agony.
We did apart seasons back with no tears rolling down,
Why do you still haunts me in the dreams of unknown?
And Señorita, beyond the rusty bars of affection,
Are you dancing in the menace of satisfaction?

Absolute cliché

Under the sluttery sky we danced to the waves,
In vain we died and born streams after streams.
Unwise is this life, thus raves,
Those colorless ocean of screams.
Not this neon lights of Levoča scraps abyss of darkness,
Not this pleasant perfumes lixiviate bitter reality.
Likewise is the unreal sphere covered in lustfulness,
So is the bliss sold by priests for illiberality.
Adam, you’re aloof from home, wandering,
For the inexplicable thirst to deviate.
Come home, kill the plague that, keeping
You from the real, for nothing, yet to liberate


Bethany, my love, you knew the damage of my soul.
Bethany, my love, you felt the bondage of my spirit.
Bethany, my love, you saw the montage of my sick-room.
And you came late in the night
made my antsy ashes
Jumping into the fire from the height
And setting me into the blushes.
You rained in the late night
making melodies for my ears
And the melancholy elegy of nature might
have hurled away the fears.
You splashed noisily on the panes
pouring life incessantly into my heart.
And the words in my lines
having waited until you start.
Till dawn restlessly you sounded
Love, You came in the dark,
as you healed my wounded
soul and made the soir lark.
Bethany, give me the wings
and take me up to the heavens above,
where I shall see the priceless things
made up by the God of love.
Bethany, with this indescribable affection
of love’s sweet pain let us pray
to the lord of love with the impression
our love shall make our lives its prey.


When the Sun has set, In this lonely landscape,
The long grass dance with the evening wind.
Here I stare at your inscape,
Which this cordage of love cannot bind.

Lying on your bed watching you sleep naked
You still smell White-Russian, it’s cream I smeared on your tits.
All of our evenings always had languor of cigars you smoked
I stay, though you pine for mere nooky in bits.

Tatiana,wake up and vainly whisper in my ears not to depart,
Until the wild birds come back again.
Tatiana, while you make love to me, love me with your heart,
Until the flowers keep spring in abstain.

Inescapable life

Through the cracked windows,

Summer has come and passed.

I live in a pretty home I built,

It is in this home I played vital roles,

Skin turned ugly and fainted,

On the fragile bones like

The fermented memories

In the bleeding brain, how do I play more?

Didn’t know, I was fastened,

With the unstoppable wheels of life

The lone trees mourn lost leaves torn from each nest,

Songs are sung life is strung between such drifts.

They are gone, for them I played this game

Unlike Mary they come, then they go

‘Til sixty, strong through strife, sends cautious peep

‘Til spring arrives so must thrive dormant seeds,

Bitter and older smell of seasons remained

In this home like changes in my memory’s flow

We, Trespassing flowers with breezes that blow
And at the end wait for the silent, cold death.

Thou shall not publish war crimes….

I couldn’t resist dragging this piece of writing up when I restarts blogging today after a long time. But, Indeed, Julian is still suffering inside the Belmarsh prison while a federal judge has ordered release of Chelsea Manning from jail in Virginia. I wrote this back in May, 2019. Nonetheless, let me repeat NO USA EXTRADITION FOR JULIAN.


Chelsea Manning, after spending 62 days inside the jail cell in Virginia has been released. The 31-year-old former Army Specialist probably can breathe fresh air for couple of weeks and then return to prison. She was imprisoned for refusing to testify against Julian Assange before a grand Jury in the Eastern District of Virginia

“Chelsea will continue to refuse to answer questions,” her lawyers said in a statement, “and will use every available legal defense to prove to District Judge [Anthony] Trenga that she has just cause for her refusal to give testimony.”

Manning’s next arrest will be crucial for Assange, The WikiLeaks founder was earlier dragged from the tiny Ecuadorian embassy in London on April 11 and arrested for jumping bail just after Ecuador revoked his asylum and citizenship, The Authority has been forcing Manning to provide material to be used against Assange. This will further strengthen the possible five year sentence in the US for allegedly helping Manning to hack into Pentagon computer networks. However, with the possible long awaited and planned extradition to US, Julian could face further charges in the US including under the Espionage Act, which holds the possibility of the death penalty, once landed in the so-called democracy.

Chelsea was court-martialed in 2013 and served seven years—including a year in solitary confinement—of a 35-year term in a military prison for leaking documents to WikiLeaks exposing US war crimes in Iraq and Afghanistan. Her sentence was commuted at the end of the Obama administration in January 2017. The Question is whether exposing war crimes is a virtue or a crime?

If it is a crime, then we live in a world which is controlled by warmongers, and if it is a virtue then why harassing Assange and Manning? Julian called himself a spy, a spy of and for the people, unlike the digital corporate giants he is not spying on the people for Authority, he is doing the opposite and which why he’s been targeted and it’s a crime if people do not stand for WikiLeaks and its publisher.

Manning is another person who has been treated badly by the authorities, by the left liberals and by the Medias. Nonetheless, you cannot deny there is a broad support from Intellectuals, activists, leftists who are not affected by the slow poisoning of democracy and freedom of dissent. The slow poisoning of democracy is hidden beneath the smoke screen of indirect oppression and unconventional modern day prisons. WikiLeaks, Assange, Manning and Snowden shows individuals are not actually free and the state is not for non-violence and peace. “The fascism which smells like democracy” really has the smell of blood.

Again, WikiLeaks and Assange helped us to show how wider the freedom is that, authorities have granted to each individual. Manning and Edward Snowden taught us how deeper is the “peace talks” by the States (Not just United States of America). It’s a clear attack on freedom of speech and freedom of the press, on the freedom of Whistleblowers, but why is this cold and terrible silence around the world? Are we enjoying the un-freedom experienced as freedom? Bakunin once said “When people are being beaten with a stick, they are not much happier if it is called “the people’s Stick.” But on the contrary it is pretty much clear that majority enjoys being beaten up by the people’s Stick.

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