delicious and a little bitter

There is a lot of litter on your bottom. Instead, your surface is very smooth and quiet.
I dragged you out of that dirty night club. Drunk, alien, with the smell of sweaty men and cheap perfume on you.
And you just took off your torn skirt, threw this rag into my face and, staggering, got on a taxi.
If I could be that proud...
"Be my friend", you said, hardly your head was lifted from the position good enough to contemplate the bottom of the WC.
Silly one, I know every birth spot on your body. Do you know that I kiss your fingers while you are in drunk delirium, talking all night long?
And you say: "Be my friend".
Funny...

Amy Winehouse - Just Friends

On the role of an actress in modern culture

"Talking to you now, in ten years, in thirty, in fifty years and in one hundred years, we will still be on the throne and smiling. Unlike you, who are destined to die, we are here, eternal, and from now on, nothing bad will ever happen to us... But what a price we had to pay! Dawn of the day, beating heart, the reflection of a pale face in a mirror, the same face again, in make-up, done hair, tight costume, and this scream, psychopathic, of the next film director - Action! ...And the unborn children, and the beloved ones who said good-bye, and husbands who left... But you know, one great actress remarked, twisting her head up to the sky, There is no death for me, there is no death for me, there is no death for me... And she was right. Eternity is what they have certainly got in touch with." 

Who is she, a woman, an actress from the films?

Looking at us from glossy magazines?

Seductive, mysterious and desirable?

Childless... Lonely... 

What does she bring to this world?

What values does she preserve?

What gift does she apport to the humankind?

She's not telling her name...

She's hiding her face behind mediocre masks

She's not telling her name as some other would

At night she is drawing with crazy paints

Insane ideas of her solitude

She writes confessions in an old notebook

The wind kisses her hot shoulders with tenderness

She's always saying that all's good

Maybe just to stay on ease

She is unique like a crystal

Her style is old-fashioned, not new at all

She will for sure raise many a pedestal

Of someone's dreams and inner call

Natural way of being

Sitting still. What an unnatural way of being! When I think about all these people who spend long days stting in their offices, I get terrified. Life is movement and we have to stay still so long time. During many years at school is what they teach us - to sit still and hold our backs straight. While it would be more natural to dance, or, at least, walk...

The Jewels

Naked was my dark love, and, knowing my heart,

Adorned in but her most sonorous gems,
Their high pomp decked her with the conquering art
Of Moorish slave girls crowned with diadems.

Dancing for me with lively, mocking sound,

This world of stone and metal, brittle and bright,
Fills me with rapture who have always found
Excess of joy where hue and tone unite.

Naked she lay, suffered love pleasurably
To mould her, smiled on my desire as if,
Profound and gentle as the rising sea,
It rode the tide toward its appointed cliff.

A tiger, tamed, her eyes on mine, intent
On lust, she sought all strange ways to please:
Her air, half-candid, half-lascivious, lent
A new charm to her metamorphoses.

In turn, her arms and limbs, her veins, her thighs,

Polished as nard, undulant as a swan,

Passed under my serene clairvoyant eyes

As belly and breasts, grapes of my vine, moved on.

Skilled in more spells than evil angels muster

To break the solace which possessed my heart,

Smashing the crystal rock upon whose luster

My quietude sat on its own, apart,

Her waist, awrithe, her belly enormously

Out-thrust, formed strange designs unknown to us,

As if the haunches of Antiope

Flowed from a body not yet Ephebus.

Slowly the lamplight sank, resigned to die.

Firelight pierced darkness, stud on glowing stud,

Each time it heaved a sharply flaming sigh

It steeped her amber flesh in pools of blood.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=szrIVhpe7zQ

I am...a pearl

From the purest white to the darkest shades of blue, I am born anew like a pearl on the seashore. Like a pebble, I am worked on every day, by life, till the time when I become smooth, handy, tamed...

Somewhere in your heart

He felt her like the most intimate fold on his body. Like the realization of what has been conceived, like something that you cannot translate into words. Somewhere under his heart she was lying, like a small miniature of this real one. He remembered her, close, dear, closer than his heart, somewhere on his bones, in the hiding places of knowledge of her, even before they met. Something so simple, clear, without a language, without words, just understandable, with eyesight, with skin, with ears. Being direct, with all her drawbacks, she was closer and dearer than anyone else - some beauty from a cover. Because she had this warmth, this soul,so earthly, and so feminine. Naked essence, taken unawares. Balance loss. Here she is, the real. How it hurts, and how sweet this is. And so, she made it up to him. She made this push on him. She understood what women understand from childbirth - the effort is hers, it’s she who must act.
Only this way, and no other way, a man and a woman meet.