cardboard house

I would live in a cardboard box with you

(If it had a shower and, yeah, an air conditioner too)

We could share a sleeping bag night and even day

Because, my love, life is meant to be a stairway

Not the one that goes to heaven, glittering with gold

Happiness will not come even if we’re bankrolled

There is no joy being part of the acquisition society

Nothing to learn when money determines our life’s journey

The stairway is part of our movement through time

We can slide down the steps or go for the climb

Perhaps our moods would mirror the up-down direction

Yet I truly believe not, because love is perfection

So come be my kindred spirit in a cardboard box of love

Earth and Water below, Air and Fire above

Like the elements we’ll create an unparalleled match

A mixture of balance strengthened by a crosshatch

You enhance the days and nights with your passion

Your daily care for everyone shows compassion

So if all we need is love, as the Beatles assert

Why do we keep our beautiful life covert?

© 2015 ViataMaja



“Trust me, come on

Walk on this red baby

You’re the star of my show”

When I do

You turn into

A magician

Pulling the carpet

Out from under my unsteady feet

Falling, catching myself (no one else will)

Smile hiding tears, fears

Why do I always fall

For the same trick?


© 2015 ViataMaja


(another disgruntled commentary re “soul mate” search)



Mind frog-leaping around

The blistering galaxy

Fire comes


Immediately burns away all

Nothing left

What’s the sense in that?

No one there

To say, “Yes”


At times, each day

Was like a billion years of life

Evolutionary cycle teaching me

To trust no one

Earth smothers

Choking all existence away

Burying truth

And mistakes

No voice left

To say, Yes”


Spontaneous rain

Insidious Water of gray

Like a breaking

Foamy wave

Over and over

Eroding the sand

Wearing all away

Until one says, “Yes”



Sky lightly peppered with crows

Air gently blows

Flows like water

Warms like fire

Blankets like earth

Perhaps, perhaps…?

“Yes!” says Air for me


(c) 2015 ViataMaja


Heart Valentine Card

The beauty of love

Is its encompassing definition:

The appearance of a soulmate

Is a rare gift although

A spouse is somewhat more common

As are significants and partners.

But let us not forget

The others in our lives:

Roommates, dogs, cats, birds

Parents, siblings, children

Assorted relatives but,

Most of all, our friends.

Love is not a box of chocolates

Or roses (although nice to receive)

Love is listening

Love is smiling

Love is effortless grace

Love is free of resentment

Love is clicking sticky keyboards

While commenting

And liking our virtuals.

If we are observant,

We will see how many we love

And how many love us…


driving away yun_376

Eight crates of crap and a car: all I own

Wait! Forgot my computer and smart phone


A closet full of boots and clothes, also

Seems ok for when I’m ready to go


Own no furniture or even books now

Amazon keeps them on a cloud somehow


Music is stored on a flash drive player

Like me, the rock stars became much grayer


Friends and family are virtual too

Clacking our keyboards is what we all do


When you think of me, please try to be kind

If you search your heart, you’ll see you don’t mind…


I kinda like portability, see?

Helps me when moving, just gotta be me


Move down, clean cups, shouts out the Mad Hatter

Begin again, nothing much will matter


New World coming but are we really brave?

Pixels won’t soothe us when it’s touch we crave


I cram this stuff in my car and then leave

Driving who knows where, but I will not grieve


There’s the horizon line beckoning me

Drive faster, don’t care who knows where I’ll be


When you think of me, please try to be kind

If you search your heart, you’ll see you don’t mind…



© 2015 ViataMaja, Poezija



egg souffle creative commons

Feeling like a scrambled egg

Whisked into a disparate shape


The Chef, AKA “Love”

Has once again

Worked his artistry

To my detriment

Fry me in hot oil, boil me hard

But like the souffle

I will rise again…


© 2015 ViataMaja, Poezija


ask me

Ask me after coffee in the light of day

I’m pretty sure I know what I will say

Ask me when the sun no longer fights

The magic of the moon-drenched nights

Ask me when our double-sized eyes can see

What we truly love between you and me

Ask me, oh please, in perfect love

Your words filling the sky above

Ask me and I will answer…


(C) 2014 ViataMaja, Poezija

Hominidae (Fragment)

People disappear from our lives

Especially when we are no longer in eye contact

And able to defend ourselves


We know, we know, think of Iago

It isn’t necessarily the person who lies

We know there are people like that

What hurts so much is the willingness–

Of those we thought were our friends–

To believe that lie


Almost makes us think that

We were hated all along

Or is this just Homo sapiens at its most normal?

Pick up the animal bone and crush the skull

Of the hominid closest to us?




Tried to be friends, used words

Written, spoken, sung

You ignored me and that

Means one thing, this thing

Is not meant to be.


You don’t understand how I love

You’re still back with the nightmare people

Invited you into my light, the dream

Where together we’d face those purple mountains

More bruised than majestic but full of promise


I thought we’d be mutual Muses

Women don’t have Muses, you think?

If you deny a Muse to a woman

You deny her the title of Poet


You promised to put the pen in my hand

When the lines came

Even if we were wrapped together

Facing the night

Instead, you chose the molasses of time

Sticking you flat to what once was


One day the past will suddenly arise

Shake off the good and the bad

Looping through the mind

And finally skitter into the future

Tense-ness of life

But age waits for no one…


© 2014 ViataMaja

Haiku Stack: The Aging of Ruby Tuesday*

In for the long term

Until cruel words are uttered

Toleration strained


Ruby Tuesday-ing

The only alternative

Acid tears melt chains


Now too old to run

Freedom equals loneliness

Start over again?


If one could predict

Tomorrow’s unknown promise

There would be less pain


Who knows the future

When subjectivity reigns

Wiser to remain…


*Title based on the song “Ruby Tuesday by the Rolling Stones


© 2014 ViataMaja

Image: Toulouse-Lautrec