...illusions from a far-fetched past!

I once loved messy curly hair,

it's true colour recognised,

only close to that stubborn head.

I once loved them teeth of hers,

properly arranged, yet never chained.

I once loved that beauty-spot,

that lay on the upper-lip.

I once loved that baby-like way,

of drinking from a bottle.

I once loved those small-fat Albanian fingers,

that held the keys to my focus.

I once loved those lost and vulnerable brown-eyes,

full of passion and life.

I once loved those eyebrows,

that could complete the ying-yang with mine.

I once loved the neck,

that put lambs to shame.

I once loved the nose,

that couldn’t smell it’s own bull-shit.

I once loved the smile,

that was virus to my knees.

I once loved the bossom,

that crowded my soul.

I once loved the nipples,

that spoiled my lips and tongue.

I once loved the “hithka”,

that graciously harboured my entire being.

I once loved the belly,

that was to give perfection to my legacy.

I once loved that Albanian-dance,

that made maturity vanish in my smile.

I once loved to say something like “I love you sweetheart”,

in our sacred language every morning.

I once loved to share myself, my passion, my Jazz…

But you see that is a “gone chapter”…

Now is all “once”…

Nothing matters, as its not there to share or love.

Gladly or not, now that was all “once”…

Dikur dashuronja floke kacurrele, te c’thurur;
ngjyra natyrale e te cileve dallohej,
vetem ngjitur me kokefortesine.

Dikur dashuronja dhembet e saj;
tamam te vendosur,
kurre te zinxhirosur.

Dikur dashuronja nishanin;
shtrire mbi buzen e siperme.

Dikur dashuronja te piren e saj;
si vogelushe,
nga shishe te rendomta.

Dikur dashuronja gishtat “alla-shqiptarce”,
te vegjel, te shendoshe;
qe mbanin celesat e fokusit tim.

Dikur dashuronja syte e humbur,
te zinj;
plot me jete e pasion.

Dikur dashuronja vetullat e saj;
qe mund te plotesonin “Ying-Yang” me mua.

Dikur dashuronja qafen;
qe turperonte qengjat.

Dikur dashuronja hunden;
shqisat e se ciles,
besonin auto-genjeshtrat.

Dikur dashuronja buzeqeshjen;
qe me dobesonte gjunjet.

Dikur dashuronja kraherorin;
qe turmezonte shpirtin tim.

Dikur dashuronja thithkat;
qe llastuan buzet e mia.

Dikur dashuronja hithken;
qe me plot hir,
ankoronte gjithe qenien time.

Dikur dashuronja barkun;
qe do te perfeksiononte trashegimine time.

Dikur dashuronja vallen “alla-shqiptarce”;
qe i kthente femijerine buzeqeshjes sime.

Dikur dashuronja t’i thonja:
“Oh Zemer, sa fort t’du”;
c’do mengjes,
ne gjuhen tone te shenjte.

Dikur dashuronja t’i jepja veten time,
pasionin tim,
Jazz-in tim…

Ah dikur…!

Por sic e sheh, ky eshte nje kapitull i mbyllur.

Ka ngelur vetem dikur.

Asgje s’vlen me; s’kam c’te ndaj e te dashuroj me ne te.

Me dashje apo pa dashje; me qejf apo jo…

Asgje s’eshte me, ishte vetem dikur…!!!

kohe per virtualitet...

...cigaren e fundit e shuaj me keqardhje;

ne taketuken e lodhur;

abuzoj me filtren e nikotinizuar,

dhe irritohem me nderhyrjen a foleses se lajmeve...

Pres vegimin virtual dhe bombardoj ikonat ne MSN.

Padurimin e ushqej me neglizhence,

ndersa hulumtoj ne humbjen e kontrollit;

ti prape s'behesh e gjalle,

dhe une vazhdoj te mallkoj kohe-humbjet dixhitale...

Vajtoj lavdine e dikurshme,

si suliotet prane gremines, n'prag te uzurpimit.

Ai, ajo dhe ata, s'e nuhasin fare,

ngallezojne ne mua,

me qeshjet, shakate, arrogancen dhe harene time;

germojne ne vetvete dhe m'a kane zili:

"i ka punet vaj ai, jo si ne me plot halle",

s'mund te kuptojne keta qe edhe une kam dhembje,

qe edhe une nostalgjohem me lavdira te paqena...

Nejse c'te besh, jane te "cilter"...

Jam une ai qe duhet te zberthej ceshtjen e "aforfese",

dikur i faturoja t'gjitha femrat njelloj; sot jam kthyer une ne aforfe.

Hajde dynja, hajde...!

Ne mesnate, ne forume, i pa-duhanizuar,

pa plane te metejshme, per naten,

kaloj mesjaven; me brengat gerryese karrieriste,

dhe prape zhytem ne mjergullen e mos-permbushjes;

nejse, une me te vertete jam i merzitur, s'di c'te bej;

por jo vetem se ju s'jeni interesante...

Fajin s'e keni ju, por e Enver Hoxha;

Ai katil homofobik, qe s'jetoi edhe 2-300 vjet;

qe keshtu te me zevendesonte lap-topin TOSHIBA;

me kazmen aksionare; vezulluese dhe te amortizuar...

Valle, a do te kisha kohe, per boten virtuale...?!