I Like a book you can read a face of mine Just, again, don’t pass me by.
My lips as desert are dry greatly, You can open them plainly. And see how I yearn to sip The nectar of your lip.
II When did you last time take a book with both palms and kiss it? And I am a walking manual and poetry collection. Only official, formal and fictionary styles flow through my speech implements: “All flowers turn their blossoms to you as if sun’s light And with a handful you collect their splendour sight…” My mind is solid as if cover, sharp like thin page and beautiful as design. But who likes it? Not you. I am not angry with you, not at all – I feel sorry. After all you are not guilty because of my frightening reading. And it doesn’t matter that, though no matter how much I would try to be plain, still, only books will speak through my lips.
Born in 1986 in Lithuania. Poetry has "infected" me through love poems, especially through W. Shakespear's sonnets. I have read all the classical poetry in lithuanian, so I learn english in order to be able to read english poetry loosly. I also write, but first in lithuanian and later I translate them into english in order to gain some popularity, because Lithuania is too small country to make your amateur poetry popular. Thanks to the High On Poems for creating conditions to break through.
I have just received a call from him, the unemployed educated youth, has come out of his house. He must be standing on a bus stop, in the busy hours of the Saturday evening. The whole world suffers from the