The Magic Pill

I entered a very strange room.

in the centre of a booming uptown

of urban area of a very unimportant capital of province.

blistering secretly in the downside of my otherwise empty mind,

situated quite offhand off handful of handy thoughts.

It looks like a bar in here.

Glasses of abstraction extracted from a 100% concentrate of unconcentrated thoughts

are standing on a timetable of bored man's tiresome schedule

and around are sitting Emily Dickinson altogether with Parkinson, Willkinson, Watson

and Emerson,

altogether disputing about Jeffersonian insomnia syndrome

palindromised by symptoms of elitarian totality of chrysanthemicissm.

A little startled decided I to end my medication,

switching to meditation

and giving a brief description of one-thousand-worded explanation of the zero f**ks I

give about my prescription,

I finally began to see order of things

as they pass me by like trams running over pedestrian crossings

in the uptown mess of my almost empty mind.

David Stringbreaker

Small People

Small people.

Small talks.

Small lives.

Small bodies.

Of small importance.

But are they really?

Small people.

Small worlds of their own.

Small lives, small salaries,

small problems of their own.

Like queen Elisabeth. (she's not much of a giant)

and Gandhi himself was one hell of a dwarf.

And so was Napoleon Bonaparte

and so was David, the killer of Goliath.

Small people.

Small houses with small gardens.

Small livings of their own

small works

small impact.

All small.

If you want to look at them, you have to look downwards, because

they're

small people.

With small talks.

Small, abysmal!

Yet never overlooked.

Never inferior, though small.

Small people.

Everything seems bigger

than them and to them.

Buildings, cars, the life itself, even other people
(except those small ones).

Small people.

Small talks

small success

small influence

small lives.

Everything seems bigger than them and to them.

But never bigger than or to their soul.

-          David Stringbreaker

Colours of Life

From the lands of green

I come to search for a faerie queen.

But in the lands of black and grey,

I sit, and weep, and cry, and pray.

In the world of black and white

Black is day and white is night.

Yet this colour we call grey,

Still keeps to destroy night and day.

Now in between bright colours' mix

I might have felt a little safe

But killed by gray-ish blocks and bricks,

Began I to dig my grave.

- David Stringbreaker

Masquerade

Let's put on our masks. Hooray! It's a masquerade! Put aside your petty tasks Come along, join the parade!

Out there in the streets There is a carnival. But inside our homes, underneath our bed sheets, There awaits a criminal.

But let's just put on our masks Let's pretend it's not there Out there in the streets, there is a carnival. It's everywhere. Behind every mask, there hides a criminal.

But don't you worry. Don't you bother... It's a carnival! Put on your mask.
Go. Back to your tasks.

- Stringbreaker

Duckling

Wake up you ugly duckling.
Spread your white wings.
Wake up my dearest darling
Let's do some things.

Wake up, you grayish essence.
It's your time to blossom!
Be question and answer. Form a full sentence.
Become wholesome!

Wake up you ugly duckling.
I know there's a swan somewhere there
I thought you want to spread your beautiful almighty wings.
But now I see
That you just don't care.

- David Stringbreaker

The Ebb.

These heavy thoughts

inside my head

will not be stopped

by the endless flow of memory.

And now my boat becomes

heavier and heavier

under the load of my anger,

and dizziness

which comes in to take over the helm.

Drowning slowly

as the water rises to the board

until the barque disappears

under the water

completely

comple

tely

…

Morning.

Out of the deeps,

there comes the residue

of something which once had been a ship,

shards of the past,

that water torn asunder

and threw into all directions,

surfacing.

Shipwrecked, I'm trying to get hold

of some of the pieces

to find something to float on

in an attempt to find traces of my yester day,

in an attempt to recollect,

in an attempt to find a resolution,

in an attempt to understand.

Just to stare into infinity...

Or to give up that something which used to exist?

Let go of the vestige.

And float again!

Dragged by the tide of my thoughts,

closer to the land,

to the infinite end,

the only safety.

Just float.

Calmly.

Just float

into infinity.

Calmly.

Freedom.

David Stringbreaker