the recombustion of the world on firei rise with the waking world,the recombustion of the world on fire by BluestWaves
i fold with the woken world,
when the eyes of the waken are seeing me,
through them, I will begin to spin the universe
BeastToday you sink your fangs into a field of flowers andBeast by BluestWaves
tear out the roots, the leaves, the goodness in it,
you twist your jaws around the grass and
bite in deep.
The land you leave is barren once again,
but plantlife is resilient.
There comes the day when all beasts (you too) coil and die in the den
with only flies to lick their wounds.
Tomorrow it will rain, and the fields will bloom anew in freedom and splendour.
BreakawayMy friend, the sea is not a poet.Breakaway by BluestWaves
He forgets tendrils of foam on the tideline,
it's not verses, the strings of pebbles and seaweed on the sand.
He's a mute god,
and he never writes anything, at all.
At night, when it sounds like he's singing,
ebb after flow, he only just pins for the moon.
And when little skulls and shells wash up,
the hieroglyphs they form have no meaning.
He carries life in its waves, and when life is gone,
he carries death, and it's the same to him.
My friend, don't be sad.
The stars always rise and reflect on the shore as the tide pulls back,
and you may see the universe,
and the universe is a whole mirror to our Earth,
and it's bursting with stories.
Break.you've got to wait for yourself, they say.Break. by BluestWaves
Slow down. You've got to slow down.
I'll try. I slept 9 hs today.
I didn't have breakfast. I picked up a book,
and left the computer off.
Go away, sun. I'm not letting you in today.
You're gonna want me to go out, and
I've got to slow down.
I'm waking up.
I'm not changing my underwear much,
and, judging by the chaos in the borders of the realm,
I'd take a guess that Faramir wouldn't be doing that much, either.
Evidently, great epic books don't tell you that.
Everything's become strange now,
and I'm doing things I never do.
I drink hot chocolate, buy ice-cream,
and stay late to classes I'm not taking.
So what. Where a rock stands,
the river winds around it.
And time's always running.
Even in great epic books, everybody somehow suffers.
Why do we shun away happiness, I mean,
it doesn't make any sense.
But then again we never really take a break,
though time never slows down.
And I'm thinking now, what we repress,
A journal post to explain it all, and then I let you wander in the ice, and hope that, some day, you'll come back to tell me your story.
seven days of beach
From [February 23, 2012] to [March 1, 2012]
eastern berlin series
A whimsical collection of shots derived from self-prompts, using titles of popular deviations on deviantART's main page, from [May 18, 2012] to [June 8, 2012]; dealing with break-up, heartbreak, Scandinavian pop music, empty apartments; and the inevitable process of self-reinvention.
the iceland series
"he said he had survived many winters..."
Part I (he looked like iceland) bluestwaves.deviantart.com/art…
Part II (polarity) bluestwaves.deviantart.com/art…
Part III (Navigator) bluestwaves.deviantart.com/art…
Part IV (knight) bluestwaves.deviantart.com/art…
Part V (corium)
Part VI (dusk) bluestwaves.deviantart.com/art…
Part VII (Navigator II) bluestwaves.deviantart.com/art…