Wishes of the heart

I wish my songs could take away
all that is bad in your life.
All that is holding you back.
Everything that makes you unhappy,
miserable or sick.

I wish my voice would cure you.
To be a medicine, ever lasting.
Words for a headacke,
sentences to heal your heart.

I wish my voice would fit my songs.
My words would fit your heart.
My tears would fit your eyes.
I wish just hello's, no goodbye's.

I wish I could move you.
Not put you in another place
but really, really move you
and have you where I want.
Inima mea.

Wet paint

I walk around in the painting that is our life.
The paint is still wet and you can follow my footsteps.
The strokes of your brush are deciding which way I go,
my mood, what I see, what I feel.
You mix the colors of my life and decorate my burning, pumping core.
Paint with your heart, change your brush, now and then, but always paint me.
Create a color just for us and call it love.
Paint with your eyes and see only me.
Make me better than I am, make me worse but always paint me.
Wet paint on my feet, my new fingerprint.
Color me like Antony signs, original and crazy in love.
And sign.
A masterpiece.

Crazy in Love

Please open this link and enjoy...more beautiful photos, songs and poems on "Life in pictures" of Costin!


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=O0ob52GyXl4

Heart in Paris

It's like a hand inside of me she said
playing the strings of my heart.
Moving me, keeping me still.

We drove on in the streets of Paris.
Looking for our place in a city with no space.

It's like a hand inside of me she said
making me look all crazy
"crazy in love" right now.

We wandered on in the streets of macarons,
of "je t'aime" and "see you soons".

It's like your inside of me she said
protecting my heart
keeping it beating, bleeding.

I entered her heart and went home,
to stay.

How do I tell you....

My first participation to "Life in pictures"!

I could stop eating, not drink.
I could stop dreaming, sleeping.
I could collect tears,
hide for my fears.

If you're not here, there's no use.

I could hate myself and I do.
I could forget everything and I will.
I could crawl and weep,
never again stand on my feet.

If you're not here, there's no me.

I don't love the ugly me.
I don't like the dirty me.
I settled with the sick and abandonded me
I hate the faking me,
happy, happy me.

If you're not here, nowhere to appear, nowhere near,
there is no use.

I thought I could make it alone but that was before your skin.

I could live under your spell.

I imagined

I was sitting on the top of the world and the shadow of the moon fell on me.
To my surprise it was like a warm blanket covering me.
Then the stars changed into your eyes and I saw us dancing in Paris.
A red rose between your teeth, a silk dress and high heels.
My black tuxs fitted your red lips to perfection.
My tears made the clouds cry and I fled into the lake of sorrows.
Like a drowning man my hands reached out of the water
in search for a rescuing heart.
My harlequin tears colored the lake black.
The swans where long gone and with one remaining feather I wrote ...
a symphony with notes never heard before.
The gentle waves of the lake where my staff
and the wind was the director.
The storm in my heart played it so loud that you couldn't deny the cracks in the wall,
the breaking mirrors or the stopping waterfall.
Eventhou you couldn't swim, you jumped into the inc of the lake and found me, still writing.
"Come" was all you said and we where lifted into the moonlight.
The harlequin gave his heart away but kept his smile.
We walked in Paris for a while.
I was on top of the world again.

Just a feeling.

Very unlikely. Uncommon.
To go back in time, even much further than the day you were born,
and to feel like you were there when something happened or was created.
To feel a joy or even pain that was someone elses.
A struggle in the mind, a blockage, an explosion of creativity,......
a masterpiece.
Envy is attacking me but in the same time I am greatfull for the experience
and maybe I should find will and courage to write my own little masterpiece.
If I ever want to be remembered after I leave for good this God created place
maybe I should leave behind another creation of His.
I'll take that trip back to the present now and put my minds phrases and strophes on paper
and make up a world where joy is all and all is joy.
You are welcome to visit me there any time.

Secret title

It had become such a familiar feeling,
a security I never had to think about.
If it was walking, running, jumping...,
your safety net was there to catch me with every fall.
You cleaned my wounds and kissed them.
I didn't get the chance to return the favour
and God knows that was all I wanted.
27 years passed and still not over you.
It's impossible, mom.
Hope to meet you in heaven, one day.

Vacancy.

It was generous of you to let me look inside your head.
All words spoken, nothing said.
Words to difficult for me, the meaning escaped, the letters fled.
You can't read me, you said.

It was nice of you to let me pray inside your mind.
The place was graced, the mood was kind.
I talked to God untill Amen
Now I think I know Him.

It would be great if I lived in your heart.
To be the engine, the pump of life.
I would be bleeding all the time
to keep you alive.
Day and night.

Questions ?

Don't ask me questions.
They stole all the answers.
Don't ask me to sing..
They took all the keys.

Imagine I was smelling a grey flower today.

Don't ask me about the future.
Desteny Avenue is closed.
Don't ask me about the past.
I bearly remember yesterday.

I was shot by a shooting star.

Don't ask me about my tears.
Happiness can be liquid.
Don't ask me about my smile.
Just schmick the clown.

My compass points south.

King

they clap their hands to the rhythm of my defeat
they feast my pain
they yell out glory when I'm down
they challange my crown

I can't loose, I'm a King without a country
I can't win, don't know where to begin

they steel my empty treasure
they burn my ashes
they starve the hungry
they feed the greedy

I can't loose, I'm a King without a country
I can't win, don't know where to begin

they dance on my grave
but my coffin is empty
they feed on my blood
who is the sucker?

I can't loose, I'm a King without a country
I can't win, don't know where to begin

Deeply yours

A clock is ticking.
I hear it somewhere, everywhere.
The silence lasts longer than the sound,
30 seconds longer than an hour.

I'm marcked.
If you don't talk to me
the colours will change their names,
the sun will shine at night
and the birds will crawl the earth.

I shouldn't have asked for your blood
we spilled it together.
We are wounded now
scarred for life
Cicatricé, they say in French

If you don't listen to me
songs will be unwritten,
poëms won't rhyme
and everybody will hear the silence.

I shouldn't have asked for your soul
the content was yours
my mind was too confused
my heart stitched
but hopefull

The clock stopped ticking now
I'm naked in body and soul
I smell the unknown
but was never smarter

Everything may vanish
My love will always remain