Sfatul medicului

Nu înghiți apa de gură,
scrie pe etichetă.
Nu opri dușul dacă faci pipi-n cadă!

Astfel ne îndrumăm,
indispensabili unul altuia,
reglementând. 

Dar mie îmi plac aburii galbeni. 
Ar fi fost gluma zilei, m-am abținut
pentru că nu prea ne cunoaștem.

Ai înghițit apa de gură,
o picătură acolo,
ai încălcat una din regulile
scrise pe etichetă.

Miroase în schimb frumos, inspir,
pe dinăuntru tremur 
și tare mult mă bucur
că merge și-așa.

Post Departum

Atâta liniște deodată, iar,
e greu de suportat.

Aleg să nu ies nicăieri.

În ciuda miilor de fani
nu mă dau jos din pat.

Și, când mă dau,
mă uit la periuța mea de dinți
și văd
cum o vei folosi din nou.

E soare și, în mare,
curenții trag spre piept,
spre umăr, spre patul nefăcut,
costumele de baie uitate acasă,
m-ai învățat să nu mă mai opun.

Timpul acum se adună,
așa că vom avea destul.
În burtă un pod de fluturi crește,
nu se mai vede fum.

Sfat

Să nu ne fie teamă 

să întrebăm 

dacă ți-e frig. 

Am trăi cu toții

într-o lume mai bună. 

Un semn cu mâna din balcon,

apoi am vrea să știm 

dac-ai ajuns cu bine. 

Pe drum, tentant,

e atâta libertate,

distanță și singurătate. 

Miroase hohotul din pulovăr

până îți revii,

până îmi revii. 

Ar prinde bine încă o părere,

într-o lume mai bună, 

o lume în fașă. 

Sunt eu, cu mine,

sfidăm evoluția,

de la nouă la cinci.

Miroase a tine,

când ne întrebi dacă îmi este bine. 

Nu iese la spălat nici cu mașina,

încerc la lac, cu bicicleta. 

Răsună noaptea

și restul ne imită.

Cimitir

Mi-a trecut vânătaia
de atunci de când am sărit gardul
să ieșim.

Ne prinsese noaptea în cimitir,
nu voia să ne dea drumul.

În cimitir se respiră,
se închid ochii,
cântă păsările.

Când nu mai e timp
se închid porțile.

Tensiune

Tensiunea apare
în prezența cuiva
exclusiv.

Astfel, mi-e greu pe bicicletă.

Uneori.

Am vrut să mă apropii
nefiind sigur pe mine.

Între timp
ce ușurare,
un shot de apă
de gură
fiecare!

Timpul

au prins timpul pe radar, 
în oraș,
a trecut repede
în ultimul timp.

există poze
și chiar dacă n-ar fi
te voi vedea 
mare la lac.

și tu o să mă vezi mare la mare
știi, eu de acolo sunt.

bucurându-ne de timp
în același timp.

 

10 years later

By Kompaktmannstraße

back from înapoi

Iarnă

 

Spray-ul de nas care desfundă aorta.

Pielea.

Umărul.

Degetele de la picioare.

Paharul cu apă,

buzele proaspăt înzăpezite,

aerul cald.

Răceala ce nu vrei să treacă.

Some people, they just don't...

I have not been invited at my buddy's wedding party last weekend. Nice couple, I like her also. They had lots of fun, but he must have forgotten about me. You don't do such things when it comes to your first wedding.

Profi

Curtea interioară a hostelului e plină cu arabi
pe care n-o să-i înţeleg niciodată.
Mereu mă gândesc la altceva când interacţionăm.
Până la urmă, sunt în timpul serviciului.

Jocul de table

O vreme aridă, dar pe străduţa cu teatrul parcă e ceva umbră. Oamenii lipsesc, maidanezii dorm. De departe, se aud deja zarurile. Zdrang taca tac tac…, taca taca tac tac…

La balcon, Daniela şi Florin o dau cu spor:

- Alo? Uite, mor de cald, sunt cu iubi. Vai, dar nu, nu pot veni, la 7 am repetiţii, acum dădeam o gheară cu al meu, hihihi. Când pleci la Nisa, frumuseţe?

Din transa jocului de table nu se iese, chit că sună telefonul, ţi se varsă berea sau te spulberă maşina. Cu puţină atenţie, observi că sunetele pieselor, zarurilor şi ale spartului de seminţe îşi păstrează ritmul. Chk-chk-chk, crrrck…

Mi-e foame. Mă întorc din drum, îmi iau o ciorbă şi-i scriu că întârzii. Tensiune în răspuns, poate de la repetiţii, cine ştie, aşa că mănânc repede şi mă duc la ea. – Păi, n-ai zis că întârzii? - Păi… - Păi, hai că vorbim după. Îmi zâmbeşte cu subînţeles şi totul e ok.

- Salut, cine câştigă? Aha, bravo! Bine, hai că urc acum. Şi urc, le iau cutia şi le-o arunc peste balustradă, în curte, cu piese cu tot. S-au umflat muşchii pe mine şi Florinel regretă acel “Ce faci, băi, eşti tâmpit?”. Hai sictir, parveniţilor.

O expunere de 10 minute la sunetul jocului de table necesită alte 30 să ţi-l ştergi din minte. Aşa că drumul spre parc e în ritm de zaruri şi seminţe, pe jazz. Acolo - mileuri, vată de zahăr, bibelouri, creioane uriaşe, naiuri, mici sfârâind, table.

Din spaţiu, apusul se reflectă portocaliu în lacul verde cu orez.

La table nimeni nu ia roşu, deşi se scuipă mult în jur, nici galben, când îşi dau tricoul jos. Drăguţ ar fi ca regulile jocului să impună alergarea iar, în pauze, postura jucătorilor să fie solemnă.

Cineva a dat Genius la maxim. Îmi amintesc că ştiu şah, unde câştig doar dacă mi se spune să atac.

Negative

Three flowers

in the backyard

will signal

on and on,

transmission

will be jammed,

disruptions

overall.

Another long range

sensor scan

will never be

performed,

the past is not

the future,

what's now

stands at the door.

Mic dejun cu alb

Era să zic c-a fost anul trecut,

dar se vor face cinci la anul.

Implantul unui vis comun,

mutaţia greierilor mici,

vor sta în prima pâine cu seminţe

şi-n primul smoothie comandat

aici.

Fact

The sand,

the sun, the forest

and the deep,

they squat my white

concrete

but soon they’ll leave.

Reversing Gentrifikation

whenever seeing them 

in every mirror
and every time I fall asleep.

Transpiraţii din Caraibe

Ochii din platane cu spate de urechi,

umeri, gât şi mâini,

inundă din trotuar

un bar

din oglinzi străvezii,

până în căşti.

- Alo, mai multă transparenţă şi la bar!

După tejghea, restul se dă cu coasa.

Îl iau şi-i fac cu ochiul noii chelneriţe

şi hârşt, ne-o luăm,

încă neştiind, exact,

cum doare.

- S-o luăm pe şefa cu noi,

îmi spun îmbrăţişările. Refuz:

- Ea ne va lua pe toţi, oricum.

N-o sărutaţi în timpul vieţii.

Oraşul tot e transparent şi văd până la ea.

M-apuc să trag de fiare şi de băut cafea.

Ea bea

şi după ce ne-am sărutat

o aranjăm pe şefa,

să fim corecţi şi cel mult prieteni;
e ceva.

Dave Brubeck - The Most Beautiful Girl in the World

Dave Brubeck - The Most Beautiful Girl in the... by theUnforgettablesTv
℗ 2013 Digital Remasterings

Jazz

Brubeck flows. Nobody comes in the little park where I enjoy my breaks from work. The blue portable speaker, a present from Rolf, mixes with the bird singing. Brubeck flows.

I’ve met Rolf a week ago, in Strausberg, at the Urban Communities Convergence Berlin, always busy, gathering wood, carrying water, cooking, cleaning and smiling often. At night he had more time and we were using hands communicating in German and English. I learned he was organizing Hip Hop parties in 1986 in Bremen and he enjoys a lot his synthesizers. He likes Pink Floyd, he liked my synthy protest song and Manu Dibango’s Soul Makossa. On the last day he said “I have something for you” and he handed me a mini portable blue speaker. I went emotional the size of a home. I tend to say it was a question of context, of course, I’d have gone emotional anyway: it was the last day of one of the most beautiful weeks, surrounded by nature and wonderful people.

Arne is an old friend; I met him long ago during another project. We see each other rarely but beautifully. He is one of those beautiful people nothing would ever upset them. A few days before the event we met and he briefly updated me about what was about to happen. He likes my tunes and I was supposed to DJ for a day or two, maybe three. He spoke me about Andrei’s similar sense of humor, him being also Romanian, co-organizer and Arne’s friend. Back home, I checked out one more time the event’s webpage, I noticed “nature”, “sustainability”, “community”, swapped a shift at work and exhaled “Yup, I’m going!”.

Sun was setting. I was in the wrong station, waiting for the next train. I had a busy day at the hostel and now my freshness and smiley face were being fueled by the windy orange fingers of the sun. Time was passing like a crystal creek and Irakli, the beautiful Bulgarian beach, was on my mind. When I finally reached the place, I met Andrei from Iaşi, a wonderful storyteller, just as my dear grandmother, also coming from the area. It was a pleasure listening to him and, during the non-busy moments, we were laughing continuously. We’d invent the Sh#*-o-meter, a mental device that would buzz when vulgarity was to be reached while practicing Romanian slang. On the last day he told us about his availability in supporting us whenever in the mood for other such events around Berlin. I felt like hugging him, which actually happened, somehow.

Viktoria has a beautiful hair and she landed among us out of a fairytale. Excepting Valentin, an excellent car driver aged 13, she was the youngest, 18 I imagine. She bluntly told me I have a beautiful smile and asked me if I plan to settle down. I either replied “I don’t know” or I joked about it. She would like to live inside a lighthouse, or at least around it. She asked me plenty of questions and I answered all of them. She liked my hometown has lighthouses. She couldn’t stop laughing, apparently because of me. In the little park where I enjoy my breaks from work, Brubeck flows and the smallest dog in the world, for the moment, changes my thoughts.

Elena, she was dancing the most. Sometimes, she was looking at me and I was looking at her. She told us about living in her Portugal based eco-community and she was being beautiful. One day, we got in the same hammock for a one on one sharing and listening game exercise. She was warmly gazing into my eyes and I told her about my late grandmother. Eyes glowing, she wished time wouldn’t expire, so she could listen more. She told me about herself and about her intense last months which now were gone, thankfully. I wish time wouldn’t expire, so I could listen more.

Gyorg comes from Uzbekistan and he is an excellent percussionist. He knew about Shuberek because he has Crimean Tatar Mongolian roots, just like me. We cooked vegan balls, we laughed and we spoke about Homo sapiens versus the Neanderthal man. Gyorg is a mixture of wilderness, strength, beauty, fun and heart. Sometimes he was calling me “Chiburekki” because both of us seemed to be craving for that fried dough filled with minced meat and onions.

Nika was on the same ship with Viktoria when they landed among us out of that fairytale. Short, wearing heavy boots, a matching vest and enjoying getting us wood. He knows how to make practical or small things, he could sew and from this perspective I should have insisted for some knowledge. He is aware of various energies floating around us and he is inviting us to feel the same. Inside a small leather bag there was a button and he gave it to me. In return, I gave him a magazine he wanted. On my way home it was him, Klina and Dominik which I hugged last. Home Friedrichshain, not home Strausberg.

We ate like kings, we carried water, we cleaned up the place, me and Klaus we counted spoons and pots, we went to the lake, we did everything. Daily, we experienced intense and deep moments. We DJ-ed taking turns. I didn’t miss Berlin, I didn’t miss anybody, but I was so happy seeing my flatmate again; Lea and Elena, old friends, it was wonderful escaping with them in Strausberg after such a long time no see. No wonder they named the place “Andere Welt”.

We are quiet, around a sleeping fire. A documentary about moss is being narrated by Harry, an artist who drives the tractor and the motor scooter only accompanied by his dog. “The moss can travel to space and back and still survive. This means it can take a – 200 Celsius degrees temperature”. “Respect!”, exclaims Anto and we all break the chakras, again, by laughing out loudly. I am missing Anto, now, with all of this jazz playing. I’d share my sandwich and I’d stop the music, so I can better see her gentle eyes. She laughs a lot, she kicks ass in making jokes and she bursts of emotion. She enjoys conversations and she played dance music. And Lumi, she also played excellent stuff, using headphones and the mixing console.

“Can you lower the music a bit?”, nicely demands Lea, as she was probably trying to have a conversation. Gyorg would like some soul music. Soul, as in Isaac Hayes black soul music? No, just music for the soul. Aha. Delci and Elena would like to dance and they have some suggestions, Anto already prepares a playlist and I search for some matching songs. One laptop for everybody. The music is controlled by various people, we take turns and whenever someone has a request I put it on the other DJ. Just because I’m here it doesn’t mean I played this song. I didn’t set it this loud either. I laugh about it with Arne and Rolf, Brubeck and some present green winds.

I escaped to another country, to another continent, to another dimension. All things live in a harmony which makes me feel embarrassed by a possible gossip related thought I might have. You know, initially, some people seem disconnected, unpleased, or to be asking questions not matching your thoughts as an individual. However, you know about accepting, just like the others and this is a community feature, this is when we start working together and enjoying ourselves. This is when we start feeling home and exclusively thinking of positive thoughts, despite the intense moments which sometimes occur. I have reached both my inner fulfillment and peace, we worked as one and it felt as we could move the mountains.

In August this year my beautiful people will meet again, this time in Romania. I’m stuck in Berlin, but it’s ok. I keep telling them to check out the Black Sea coast or the Danube Delta, for instance. They’ll love it anyway, regardless the location. Nikola’s orange van, during daytime, allows you to see the stars from the inside. A quiet Neukölln park is now chewing my heart, smiling saxophones in my eardrum. My thankfulness and this story could last forever.

-

We’re all in a circle, eyes closed. I am peaceful and cleansed inside, so I start stepping forward, right hand stretched. Whoever I touch first will be my partner in sharing, game’s rules. I follow the vivid image last seen before closing my eyes, I visualize it through this darkness and the chances of reaching her hand seem poor, there are too many beings around us. I know she was somewhere on my left and I act accordingly, after all, we might reach our hands. I beautifully feel grabbed by a strong male hand and I open my eyes and her hand, hanging by a thread, was also there. We enjoy the victory inside the hammock she took me at and we start sharing.

Kids

Each room

becomes sunny

and,

since all my blinks are bright,

sandy ice rocks mute the system;

no sounds

I shall provide.

Distant voices

hear me out, 

and they all agree ensemble,

as now

I’m supposed to start rumbling 

in the urban jungle.

There’s that moment

in the hood 

when

friendly stray dogs come

and kiss

and you’re thinking how to go out

only with a set of keys.

Heavy eyelids,

greasy night meals

may not be the perfect context,

like Cobain my throat is led sprayed;

I just might be dumb 

or happy.

Fish tank

warm winds

keep my lips

heavily intoxicated;

I imagine all this freshness

in a safe zone illustrated.

Photo

I looked, you looked back

Time stopped.

I smiled

It was good.

Your laughs fill my pockets

More than hands do.

Inside my wallet

During these times

A moment, your eyes,

Last night

I do memorize.

A wall’s holding you

And I’m not behind

I reach for your arms

It’s all black and white.

Good night,

Nice to have met you,

I’d see you, or so.

I sing to our photo

That refrain we know.