horizons never ends

mountain vastness
dark-gray stillness
eagle whiteness
forest sweetness

birds blooming
clouds singing
greens raining
rains ringing

winds swaying
meadows flowing
horses praying
trees singing

rays raining
words dying
ridges glowing
vastness growing

winds glowing
skies tolling
darkness growing
mountains flowing

do you know how fairytales smell?


the word is now a virus

Cut word lines — Cut music lines — Smash the control images — Smash the control machine — Burn the books — Kill the priests — Kill! Kill! Kill!

The 'Other Half' is the word. The 'Other Half' is an organism. Word is an organism. The presence of the 'Other Half' is a separate organism attached to your nervous system on an air line of words can now be demonstrated experimentally. One of the most common 'hallucinations' of subject during sense withdrawal is the feeling of another body sprawled through the subject's body at an angle...yes quite an angle it is the 'Other Half' worked quite some years on a symbiotic basis. From symbiosis to parasitism is a short step. The word is now a virus. The flu virus may have once been a healthy lung cell. It is now a parasitic organism that invades and damages the central nervous system. Modern man has lost the option of silence. Try halting sub-vocal speech. Try to achieve even ten seconds of inner silence. You will encounter a resisting organism that forces you to talk. That organism is the word.


lost mailbox key

I miss you so much. I miss our laughs.
The high.
The warmth.
The resonance.
The inspiration.
The elation of silence.
The deep compatibility.
Playing. Dancing.
I even miss the shifts. Waking up to find you’ve been replaced by a whole new integrity. So confident and whole. No trace of the scared child I sang to sleep last night.
I even miss the confusion. I miss the colors of your words merging into mine. I miss writing for you. Reading you. Your little wake-up calls. I miss the smell of the world with you in it. The world after the rain. Pristine and vibrant.
I’ll learn to smell without you.


Хем е тъмно, хем е светло. Тамян се вие към дебелите въжета. Таванът е мастило. Сребърен прозорец прави черното по-черно. Стъклото е извезано от тъмни нишки. Светлината се разбива на парчета.
Някъде долу някой пали първата свещ. Огънят преминава от човек на човек. Треперещите ръце предават живота нататък, 40 дена след като си е отишъл. Държат се за свещите като за последна надежда. За 40 дена риданието се е превърнало в хлипане.
Днес виното лекува. Днес житото няма вкус на смърт. Днес пускаме душата към земята на безкрайните. Днес режем с горещ нож миналото.
Защото тук долу под мастилото, среброто е тленно, дори и да няма край.
Набръчкана жена събира свещите. Огънят дори не ги е преполовил. Ръцете неохотно се разделят с последната искрица. Безизразен дъх гаси светлината и минава нататък. Вдишваме изгаснал пламък и издишваме.
На излизане ме удря зелена светлина и миризма на мокър бъз. Забравих да се прекръстя.


Аз съм тиха...

Аз съм тиха. По-тиха от котешка стъпка.
Обикалям отдавна и вече съм стара.
Аз съм дълга река, но започвам от глътка
и ти вдигам над себе си моста от вяра.

Аз съм листът, по който навярно си писал
и с мастило от страх си изплакал молитва.
Аз съм толкова вечна. Почти като смисъл
и почти като слънце, с което се свиква.

- Елица Стоянова


From The Depths - Let the Black Flag Fly

Let the black flag fly
Let them reap what they sow
All the smothered anger
Let a hard wind blow
Let every victim remember
All the vengeance we owe
Teach our masters regret should they ever forget
Power comes from below

From gutters and ghettos, oppressed and accursed
Blisters of violence swelling to burst
From smoldering resentment and broken trust
From us
The programmed
The poverty stricken
The butchered
The beaten
The outcasts who meet in perdition
Let the black flag fly

Let the conquerors crawl
Let them lecture on justice
With their backs to the wall
Can you even remember
Breathing freely at all
Let us lose all our fear and let loose all our tears
Let a hard rain fall

On towers erected to dwarf our frail frames
On pipelines that flow from our open veins
On wastelands that mirror unspoken interior pain

Deserts emptied of foliage
Futures emptied of meaning
Empires emptied of solace
Husks emptied of feeling

Let the heavens open
The dams overflow
Joining sea and sky
Merging above and below

For once all flesh and continents are mapped
In the machinery of order
We’re better off unborn, or else adrift
On seas that wash no shores
So let the rain become a raging flood
To wash away buildings and boundaries
Swallow whole the world we have known
And as the waters rise
Let the black flag fly


Piano Magic - The Faint Horizon

In youth, we think too little
In age, we think too much
In youth, of what's to come
In age, of what we've lost
We always want tomorrow
So never live today
And that's the curse of our lives
We wish our lives away

With time, the faint horizon
Comes clearer by the day
For some, it's far too soon
Whilst others cannot wait
And all men need distraction
And some men need their gods
For without these diversions
Then everything is lost

In life, we carve the land up
That is not ours to carve
We cannot take it with us
But cut the greater half
And herein lies the problem
And herein the blame
You enter life with nothing
You leave it with the same


He should've been a poet.


I Believe

I learn to understand
Getting harder to pretend is ok with me

In this moment I believe
And I want it so much
In spite of everything

You make me so real
I don't have to shut myself in this cage of me
I see what I haven't seen
I wanna share my place to hide
My place to feel
With You

In this moment I believe
And I want it so much
In spite of everything

I learn to understand
If only I was worth waiting for