The Blurry Flake

Have you also smelled the snow today?

I reckon!

It came to me eyes shut
A little summer breeze outside

Carried by an undeceive December rain
Waiting for a rainbow sunshine
But it never happens!

And I know it is unlikely
here the snow  inside
or meteorologically outside

except maybe it’s on your sight light-years away
I should be smelling a living joy as what is lost of me

and so I become a snowflake
to connect
hang just
above a mountain lake

a bit nonchalant
as I like to be sometimes
by my temperance the wind balanced
so that I stay upright
above an exact measurable point
become the fairest of fairies
a fairy-bride feathery white

for fun

but also to pass on spirits of me properly
as I stretch myself from dust  to my wholest parts
I become the matter of the flake’s material
and I don’t care but know only by being
the duped me infinitesimally

either the one above this lake or another
slowly descending one
to touch the tip of your nose or lip or forehead
And I know then you will recognize me at once
when I tickle you softly
as you know so well by now
how it thrills and hurts in one breath
cold or hot spot
that’s what our game is about right?

Which one is of you or of me
haha I DON’T KNOW really THE DIFFERENCE it seems
is getting a little blurry
AND that not only for me but also for you
or thee
and that very last one for fun or for the sake of the rhyme ONLY!

The Thief

He was a thief
and he did it ‘all the time’
that stealing
he used to call
for the others in loss
so they spiritually grow

he was not only a thief
but also a liar
–towards himself-
what’s worse?

always another
chic – trendy –
authentic – to go –
oriental –  family
fast – arty –
road – five-star
cheap an deli
and so many
with branded words
dictionaries fall futile to describe
types of restaurants where
he ate from
without a check
a humble gift from my guru
for my accomplishments
he said –
his guru to whom he in percentages fed back
otherwise he would be for good dead
more dead than the dead
because it is beyond the scope
of this story but just know that
he already was dead –
my delicious soul food
he cunningly said.

he was not only a thief and a liar
but also stupid
what’s worse?

blinded by his tall victory
planning the future only
a robot army
that shall kill humanity
for he could be the only one on earth
the one who was made of human wanted that!
unable to comprehend
with his victorious- photoshopped head
always looking forward
as if more ahead
than anyone ahead
far  far beyond clouds of
oil stick slime and dirt
so that the
impure material would
fill his brainless head
for a temporary while
oh my that pretty skull
implanted with sunny hair and glowing starry eye
had all the luxurious capacity of space
a palace for the richest he says
I live in
on the last floor of the highest building
ever made on the planet
always busy baptizing
with cosmetics
branded as pure mountain water and Angelica White herb
he switches off his room size TV and looks down affectionately
(where in reality he overlooks) and self adoringly shakes in triumph
‘I see all humanity
they bug and harvest their own Ignis Fatuus
No I need no TV
this is my true warranty
I am the preacher
I am reborn’.

He was not only a thief and a liar and stupid
but also ignorant
what’s worse?

as he continued to praise his ‘what could have been’s
he forgot the ‘what is’
having numbed the essence he
was unable to feel the growing green grass
under his foot soles

nature as compassionate as always
tries to nurture his lost soul
even for him,
by building a shelter
where he could also grow a brain
in meditation
long term
may/could/would he also have then
a true home
built on the mountain of truth

Oh the nature so pure, beautiful  and naive
continued to plan hand in hand
with a hard-working bumblebee
so he could learn to be free
without  depending on a guru
or on casual vampiric activity

what nature does?

she builds a home for him
even adds a pretty angel in
that could be an ever after
sweetheart for him.

he was not only a thief and a liar and stupid and ignorant
but also blind
what’s worse?

so blind that
upon seeing the angel
(his twin of opposite nature)
he did not recognize her
and one night he broke in his own house
plundered everything that has been gifted for him
and dropped the key  as always but
this time inside
where she lived
in the hearts of the hearts
on top of the mountains of truth
on a clearing
beyond the clouds of love
where their house was built

and as usual he escaped
far far away
until he consumed
all that he had
politely jerked and laughed
ejaculate his fantasies in the lands beyond the oily custard
custard distilled by seedless smoke clouds  made of evil he knew so well
until he was left with one
white flower with living roots

Who are you !
What are you !
he whined and cried in terror and fear
hearing his own true voice for the first time
after ages and after sucking generations’ gifts

here is the flower’s reply:

I am you
be me
plant me
you can see
break the blasphemy
if you can
you again
and grow
you will
reach to
she leaves
lifetimes long
lifetimes after
she sees
you or of you
she will recognize
as she truly will kiss
by her kiss
you shall at once
be blessed
to a prince
of her
to keep
dream alive
and all
of you

‘What? Becoming a flower! That’s the worst’ he replied
and dropped his only living copy of the key.

Fluid Permanency

We never met but when I think about you that sudden heavenly fragrance fills my air
Covers uncongealed irregular volumes of minimal fluid
Teases me to the level of my nose so that I can smell a forgotten reality.

Is that maybe the ability of your sobriety trespassing through my impenetrable doors
immaterializing the burden of the heaviness of my lost lamented selves to an all equally valid lucidity?

You came so close recently
while I was doing shopping on a gloomy rainy afternoon
creating a sexy twist at an ending of my mouth line revealing
a sudden dreamy smile which had the inspiration to give birth to an orange flash of joy.

A joy that clears away the opaque broken colorless paint to a crystalline transparency
so that
so that I can see
the truth of me through your poetry.

We witness and observe at rest now
All of our indubitable aura
of equivalent authenticity
Hanging in balance
Subtly floating
Flowing the airy
In the suit of colorful wild flowers of an unknown prairie
and only this way
I can relate to each of me
without being afraid of losing the permanency
of you or of me.

Monsters Are Not True!

Poetry by Alin Diraduryan
Mixed by Alin Diraduryan
Performed by Alin Diraduryan and Robbert van Nispen
Guitar by Robbert van Nispen
Drawing by Alin Diraduryan

Monsters Are Not True!

You can’t stop Monsters
by locking sliding doors
Monsters do pass through


Ask it to a/any child


Only a child knows

Only a child can show that


Monsters are not True

My Bike Blue

and My Bike Blue with subtitles now on YouTube


written, performed and mixed by Alin Diraduryan

My Bike Blue
my bike blue
is a special blue
that’s how I recognize you
when it ‘s dark

it shines morning skies

I suspect
yours is no paint
but an invisible skin
that secretly
and inhales
moods of me
to shape thyself
in harmonic postures
of us

so that
you and I
will manifest
one ride one road
roads will form with us

we pedal a mantra

my bike blue
is a special blue
that’s how I recognize you
no matter the light
you are by my side

but at times
like tonight
when we are apart

I may also prefer to walk alone sometimes

under a starlight
to witness
the change
of a phase
of matter

an urge
to relate
to my body

as I used to do sometimes

that walking fast
activates a memory
they would know

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