Astronavt

Sunrise Parabellum.

[handsomecvnt]

Biography

An author and a philosopher of modern poetry with a retrospective outlook on life My interests: Philosophy, literature, writing, politics, and economy.

Written Poetry:

Graceless Succubi Fairness

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Fairness

Thanks to your shy smile, I found my will to live, To live more than a few short years.

Your knees pushed into my ribs, Spilling blood onto my wings; And I wished to live more than a few short decades. I promised you, as you promised me, To meet here again in three years, And with a kiss on my lips you bid your farewell.

I waited patiently, through Autumn, Winter, Spring and Summer, Thunders and colds like in Siberia- Fingers slowly getting colder, Yet I still felt like growing older, Be it for another few short years.

Your eyes shone in between the cosmic rays, Green as moss and bright as stars, In this vast and empty space, Spilling blood on my wings, If only i was a bit younger.

The clock stroke 12 and its bells rang, I was waiting at the train station, And when the carriage arrived, You were nowhere to be seen.

“She is not with us.” One man said, And before I could play it off, Someone else added “She died of croup.” I felt betrayed, dejected by this world, Yet now I wish to live even more.

[handsomecvnt]

Succubi

Room so dark I could only see, The shining moon and its rays enveloping me, My naked body in the spotlight of the stars, In need of another at this desolate hour. Suddenly I felt the touch, The legs wrapping tight around my waist, Leading my hands around her wrists, Holding them firm in place, Unwilling to let go. She was a bird locked in a cage, She was a pure joy rushing through my veins, Our voices harmonized in one- Creators of my composition. Leading her throughout the night, Imagining the graceless future, Only to be reminded by the rising sun, That she had no place here.

[handsomecvnt]

Graceless

It arrived in Autumn, The mysterious mist, Hiding emotions in the abyss. The cold mornings, When the air held itself down, Grasping for my naked feet, Stealing them of warmth.

Outside the birds sang their choir, Uncaring for the wind, That once held them high, Only to call for it in a time of need.

The silence filled with the echoes of the creaking planks, On which I danced with a cigarette in hand, Its smoke in tandem with my motion, A second dancer born from burning paper.