06 Sept 2020

photo of flowers looking like balls in the field

Oh no, that thing again.

Routine is a boring soup to sip everyday.
Commuting is repetition at its least creative level.
Work is often a bland combination of tiny tasks with no end view.
Time slips and it hardly leaves a sweet taste.

Science sprinkles its salt

The geometry nobody can grab

Round and open
Broken and hungry
No single word call tell
How the heart
Formulas and text
Can tell only briefly
The molecular dynamics
Of that fractal residence of hope.
No scientist or professor

Can grab
The geometry of the heart.

Unleash and enjoy

Boundaries and walls
White lines on the field
Not to follow
But to embrace and explore
The within.
Definitions simplify the reality
Group by similarity
Cancel our uniqueness
And duty to grow and change.
Unleash the definitions that others
stuck to your back
And gallop.

I want more

This is about my fault.
Yes, it is my fault it never enough
And your style could always be better.
I hold women against higher standards
I want more
I want warm and wise
More than the daily ‘enough’.
I want Human and AI
In a soothing voice.
I want experience and freshness.
I want bravery and outspoken
I don’t want to be alone.

The queue of future pleasures

The taste of such a long day
Stays in the tongue
And lingers drops of success and envy.
Time moves to slowly at times
And dreams fall asleep in the queue
To get picked and pursued.
The queue is longer each day
The days each day faster to vanish.
Desire and self-development
Hold hands and walk by.

When truth is born

Her heart jumped with all its energy
And her brain took a deep breath
When the results assembled in the graph
And her idea became true.
A reality nobody had thought of.
Her mind generated truth.
Her hands rushed to wrote it down.
That night sheer could not sleep.

Getting creative @ SHOP

I thought of getting creative and made some new entries for THE SHOP!