Black noise

The fight is not the way

Not mine

To prove or win

A satisfaction vane.

You poke me and trick me

When i despise you

And your darkness.

Pick up your slippers,

It’s off.

Aran

The year starts dark

And cold on my face

While you sleep sweet.

Tiny and helpless in your bed,

You father your strength and fearless explore and learn each day.

Brave, yet a baby,

Curious, yet checking on mum,

Each day you grow away

And into my life.

Heart scream

i hear my heart screaming

And my mind shushing it

With no respect.

Timid and true

The heart keeps silent

And the show goes on.

I am surrounded by balance

With a under loud core.

True to myself,

I open the valve.

Breaking

Your body whispers

A break is needed.

Reluctant and fearful

You move your body

while your mind conputes

and forecasts experimental results.

The coffee is warm

Yet fades quickly

In the run to a career.

Pure green

Escaped from the lab coat,

Devoid of ask analytic tools,

I dive into the garden

And let geometries of leaves

And flying perfumes surprise me.

They narrate a story

Written only for me

That will take me away

For the most precious moment of the day.

Tired hands

Refill these hands

That worked hard and bled today

To add beauty and respect

To old clothes.

Hands not smooth and not shy

That travel quick through the stitches

And join the borders of a hot Sunday.

Give them water, a shake, and a rest

In your lap

Until fresh again.

Future today

What hides in the grass

Grown in this day of transition?

Fruits like Easter eggs

Are hard to see,

Yet precious and rewarding

For the eye of the naïve.

Work, health, friends, emails, future plans

Are ripening hidden in the green

Of hope and routine.

Bored at the desk

The duty and the honour

Of working and walking

While all i see

Is time going by

With no flavour.

Patiently i shout and consider

Possibilities and present chances

Inventing a new setting

For me, for us,

Where time is only in the background

And not so abundant.

Office magnet

My stomach a fist

When entering the door

Of predigested decisions

And bland ideas.

The tiny speckle of hope

And possibility of self expression

keeps me going

In and out.

Fantasy cosy

I twist my time

Advocating for everybody

Ok this synthetic office chair.

I forget my story,

While I actively and furiously write it

Reach moment.

Frustrated by inaction,

I surrender to fantasy.

Autumn vibes

Get up and get inspired
In this opaque autumn day
That has nothing reserved in its poor pockets
Just for you.
Grab these dead red leaves
And colour your way to work.
Get spinned by this wind of change
And hold on
To those who know love.

Joy Friday

Wine is in my hands
On a Friday with rain
And my heart jumps of joy.
Love and company,
Foods and future,
Plans and relaxation,
Joy is when the opposites meet.

Science punch

Days and years in and out of the lab
Are now a story and a small contribution
To a vivid community
Of hunters.
Scientists share and compete
Building a petia and a better world.

Work email

Three tiny suspension points
Keep me hanging from a finger
From my desk.
The text was succint
and the short sentence closed
By a point
But i cannot find the real meaning
That those carefully chosen words
Hide.

Desk mirror

Even this tiny mirror
Can entrap my pride
When choosing what to do
And, this way, be.
Like milestones on the long road,
It will return me the truth
Regularly and unasked.

Overdressed work

I march unnaturally
And the strength is artificial
When fighting is not a choice
but the only solution.
I March stiff and serious
For what will come through the door
And not only my body will be overdressed,
Yet judged.

Story show

My story is apparent
On the skin of my willing hands
And on the edges of my smiling mouth.
I have written thousands of sentences,
Yet none is enough
Or necessary.

White escape

Add a stroke of pink to your writings
And a curl to your Ts and your Is
When the window is closed
and no escape can be found.
The head down on the white paper
Can imagine a world of fun and flowers
With exercise
Even In a grey cubicle.

Train catcher

Rushing to the train
Is an art on its own
That only with intelligence you can master.
Quick and instinctive my steps
used to accelerate behind the illusion
Of being the first.
I was crashed and let alone on the track.
I learnt too appreciate each step
That with consciousness I stamp on the ground
And can guide myself faster to the station.

Sun break

I caress my petals in the sun
And embrace the astonishing landscape
Of water and mountains
Dotted with white fluffy sheep
With short memory.
I turn and stare absorbing the energy
Irradiated
And keep it within.