There's something about this world
that I know I'll never fully grasp,
just as the musics I'll never listen
and all the landscapes I'll never see.
I know the wind and the water,
and the sky and the earth
will remain after I'm gone
to the land of no return.
I've seen there are many wonders
all throughout this luxurious world
but it saddens me to witness
all the damage that humans make.
I know the animals and the plants,
the way they blossom so beautiful
and the rainbows and sunsets
will always be there for you and me.
But it bruises my heart to feel
that everything that we ruin
is the only thing it's real.
It makes me fall into the deepest abyss
to realize the destruction we made
in this wonderful world as we call.
Wednesday, 14 December 2011
Sunday, 11 December 2011
Sheets of empty canvas
Long curtains of life pyrocraved with moments of lacey love and trimmed sadness.
I keep ironing them and I don't learn anything new out of them.
My paintings are filled with emptiness and anger and wishes for peace and happiness, turmoils of draped experiences all stamped on the walls.
Remember how we use to be?
I keep ironing them and I don't learn anything new out of them.
My paintings are filled with emptiness and anger and wishes for peace and happiness, turmoils of draped experiences all stamped on the walls.
Remember how we use to be?
Wednesday, 30 November 2011
Easy lover.
I am an easy lover
my heart is solely my own
but it's given to another
whose soul is shown.
My hands sleep in his hair
waving thoughts of sinful
desires that I cannot bare
with my body brimful.
Whenever the old skies
present their pink strokes
my relentless heart dies
Imagining constraining ropes
around my old lover's soul
taking it inside me as a whole.
my heart is solely my own
but it's given to another
whose soul is shown.
My hands sleep in his hair
waving thoughts of sinful
desires that I cannot bare
with my body brimful.
Whenever the old skies
present their pink strokes
my relentless heart dies
Imagining constraining ropes
around my old lover's soul
taking it inside me as a whole.
Monday, 28 November 2011
Society, this crazy breed... in Portugal.
Portugal is one of the European countries who is having to deal with the crisis by asking external financial aid, as Greece and others. Our deficit has reached values that exceed what we can get by cutting our own expenses and by increasing taxes. All in all, it has become a really excruciating scenery to everyone who inhabits Portugal, that's why in the latest years the emigration rose. Young people who don't see any good future perspectives have fled to other countries (like so many friends of mine).
We have been assisting to an overflow of the market, that being too many people to fewer number of job vacancies. Unfortunately since a long time ago, our culture imprinted that we should all strive to have a superior education and now, like me, we all have the degrees but no real application for them. The few positions are occupied by people who already had a comfortable financial background; the power and money seems to move from generation to generation within the families that already own them (a kind of modern oligarch system).
To give you an example of what I'm talking about, most of youngsters that just finished their college are already stuck in Call Centers, not having the possibility to try out in what they've been trained to for so many years.
It's all quite non-sense when you analyse it.
Most people are quite pessimistic about the future, because everyday we're assaulted by the Media with information about how big is our debt (plus the constraining measures that are being taken by the current Government) and how long will it take to have a positive growth. That's what comes out of living too many years above our own possibilities, taking loans and credit, making unnecessary buildings all over (that now are empty and for cheap sale).
Well, it's almost 180 billion euros of debt we're talking about, so it's looking really dark.
(written for an interview)
(written for an interview)
Saturday, 26 November 2011
Friday, 25 November 2011
If you saw how much I bleed, would you stop hurting me? If you had a slight idea of the expression of my grief,
of my entire pain, would you stop hurting me? Do you know? Is your conscience aware of what you made with me?
In times of war, play dead; there are no winners...
I get myself writing death related issues.
It all started because I found out that love doesn't last much, truly it doesn't exist.
of my entire pain, would you stop hurting me? Do you know? Is your conscience aware of what you made with me?
In times of war, play dead; there are no winners...
I get myself writing death related issues.
It all started because I found out that love doesn't last much, truly it doesn't exist.
Wednesday, 23 November 2011
There's a light.
Deflections. Reflections.
It's all a game of lights. And shadows,
the ones we let exist by merely putting obstacles
to light's passage.
Colorations. Discolorations.
Tinted hearts and suspended birds
freed from their cages.
An mirrors where the light shatters
and rains down on the obstacles.
It's all a game of lights. And shadows,
the ones we let exist by merely putting obstacles
to light's passage.
Colorations. Discolorations.
Tinted hearts and suspended birds
freed from their cages.
An mirrors where the light shatters
and rains down on the obstacles.
Tuesday, 22 November 2011
Tears of flesh
Once I said I would never understand why some people cut themselves, so intentionally as seating down to pick up a pen and start writing, but today I had an epiphany and it was just like a good old friend told me.
He used to cut himself for a long time and now I understand what is the drive, what kind of sensation and feeling pushes one's whole body to do it...
I stood on that verge, on the tip, on the bloody edge and I backed down.
It's the pain in the deepest, that spreads, filling you, sometimes caused only by emptiness, others, by many other reasons accumulated or not, but it's when it gets so unbearable that it seems that you need to cut yourself so that it gets away, leaking from you, through the tears of flesh.
But does it really?
I don't think so, that's why I backed down, away from the vortex of abyss.
He used to cut himself for a long time and now I understand what is the drive, what kind of sensation and feeling pushes one's whole body to do it...
I stood on that verge, on the tip, on the bloody edge and I backed down.
It's the pain in the deepest, that spreads, filling you, sometimes caused only by emptiness, others, by many other reasons accumulated or not, but it's when it gets so unbearable that it seems that you need to cut yourself so that it gets away, leaking from you, through the tears of flesh.
But does it really?
I don't think so, that's why I backed down, away from the vortex of abyss.
Friday, 18 November 2011
Isn't Capitalism a blast?
We can own everything and nothing at the same time!
It's so illusory and ridiculous, but it's like in those situations when someone important for us dies and we carry on just by breathing; like many things in life it's what we do because it has to be like this to keep us going until we die.
Wednesday, 16 November 2011
Differences men vs. women
“There are distinct differences between male and female brains. Female brains have a larger hippocampus, which usually makes them better at attention and memory. Male brains have a bigger parietal cortex, which helps when fending off an attack. Male brains confront challenges differently than female brains. Women are hard-wired to communicate with language, detail, empathy; Men, not so much. It doesn’t mean they are any less capable of emotion; they can talk about their feelings. It’s just that most of the time, they’d really, rather not.”
in Grey's Anatomy, season 8 ep. 4.
in Grey's Anatomy, season 8 ep. 4.
Monday, 14 November 2011
Limitless
I knew him on a sunshine day
and I felt everything in my heart
go swirling and filling like waves in the sea
and then as we held hands I felt blown away.
I knew through his eyes that he loved me
and that the moment when we met
would stay forever in debt
with every other moment in our lives,
For that instance that we felt like floating
and we knew that we were finally born
and we wouldn't ever die again,
Has made me feel like surpassing
all the moments that I felt torn,
and that he was my man.
and I felt everything in my heart
go swirling and filling like waves in the sea
and then as we held hands I felt blown away.
I knew through his eyes that he loved me
and that the moment when we met
would stay forever in debt
with every other moment in our lives,
For that instance that we felt like floating
and we knew that we were finally born
and we wouldn't ever die again,
Has made me feel like surpassing
all the moments that I felt torn,
and that he was my man.
Sunday, 6 November 2011
Sonnet #116, by W. Shakespeare
Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments, love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove.
Admit impediments, love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove.
O no, it is an ever-fixed mark
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wand'ring bark,
Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wand'ring bark,
Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.
Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle's compass come,
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
Within his bending sickle's compass come,
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom:
If this be error and upon me proved,
I never writ, nor no man ever loved.
I never writ, nor no man ever loved.
Wednesday, 2 November 2011
Saturday, 29 October 2011
The shadow-love
I will not see you
and you will never see me again;
we're just shadows
of who we used to be to each other.
Why do we keep coming back for more?
Because we're part of the same life
since a long time ago?
Does anyone return, or is it just you and I?
I thought, someone who caused so much hurt
couldn't carry on being happy at a person's expense.
But then again so many people do so much harm
and still carry their lives on and well.
I don't know.
After you killed us, I didn't know
how could we ever surpass it.
The feeling of life and ourselves being useless,
how can we surpass it, after all we knew?
One day we'll no longer remember the pain,
One day, we'll forget everything we've done,
One day this shadow-love will be drawn,
One day, our lives will no longer be torn.
and you will never see me again;
we're just shadows
of who we used to be to each other.
Why do we keep coming back for more?
Because we're part of the same life
since a long time ago?
Does anyone return, or is it just you and I?
I thought, someone who caused so much hurt
couldn't carry on being happy at a person's expense.
But then again so many people do so much harm
and still carry their lives on and well.
I don't know.
After you killed us, I didn't know
how could we ever surpass it.
The feeling of life and ourselves being useless,
how can we surpass it, after all we knew?
One day we'll no longer remember the pain,
One day, we'll forget everything we've done,
One day this shadow-love will be drawn,
One day, our lives will no longer be torn.
Lover lover lover, by L. Cohen
I asked my father,
I said, "Father change my name."
The one I'm using now it's covered up
with fear and filth and cowardice and shame.
I said, "Father change my name."
The one I'm using now it's covered up
with fear and filth and cowardice and shame.
Yes and lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover come back to me,
yes and lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover come back to me.
yes and lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover come back to me.
He said, "I locked you in this body,
I meant it as a kind of trial.
You can use it for a weapon,
or to make some woman smile."
I meant it as a kind of trial.
You can use it for a weapon,
or to make some woman smile."
Yes and lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover come back to me,
yes and lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover come back to me.
yes and lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover come back to me.
"Then let me start again," I cried,
"please let me start again,
I want a face that's fair this time,
I want a spirit that is calm."
"please let me start again,
I want a face that's fair this time,
I want a spirit that is calm."
Yes and lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover come back to me,
yes and lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover come back to me.
yes and lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover come back to me.
"I never never turned aside," he said,
"I never walked away.
It was you who built the temple,
it was you who covered up my face."
"I never walked away.
It was you who built the temple,
it was you who covered up my face."
Yes and lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover come back to me,
yes and lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover come back to me.
yes and lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover come back to me.
And may the spirit of this song,
may it rise up pure and free.
May it be a shield for you,
a shield against the enemy.
may it rise up pure and free.
May it be a shield for you,
a shield against the enemy.
Yes and lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover come back to me,
yes and lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover come back to me.
yes and lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover come back to me.
Yes and lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover come back to me,
yes and lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover come back to me.
yes and lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover come back to me.
Wednesday, 26 October 2011
“I always said I’d be happier alone. I’d have my work, my friends; but someone in your life all the time? More trouble than it’s worth. Apparently, I got over it.
“There’s a reason I said I’d be happy alone. It wasn’t 'cause I thought I’d be happy alone, it was because I thought that if I loved someone, and then it fell apart, I might not make it. It’s easier to be alone. Because what if you learn you need love, and then you don’t’ have it? What if you like it, and lean on it? What if you shape your life around it, and then it falls apart? Can you even survive that kind of pain? Losing love is like organ damage. It’s like dying. The only difference is, death ends. This; it could go on forever.”
From season 7 episode 22, Grey's Anatomy.
“There’s a reason I said I’d be happy alone. It wasn’t 'cause I thought I’d be happy alone, it was because I thought that if I loved someone, and then it fell apart, I might not make it. It’s easier to be alone. Because what if you learn you need love, and then you don’t’ have it? What if you like it, and lean on it? What if you shape your life around it, and then it falls apart? Can you even survive that kind of pain? Losing love is like organ damage. It’s like dying. The only difference is, death ends. This; it could go on forever.”
From season 7 episode 22, Grey's Anatomy.
Tuesday, 18 October 2011
Sunday, 16 October 2011
What does it take to make you feel alive?
You always have the feeling that something's missing,
that you want more than you've got
and yet you might have it all,
all you need to feel alive.
It's just your stupid humanity doing the talking.
And in the end that's why you've got loans and mortgages
and insurances and gadgets and all kind of stuff
that you can't take to the grave or ful/fill yourself with them.
Dissatisfaction. Frustration. You've just sold your soul as non-refundable.
Yes, there are those who need to build a home and a family
and surround themselves with people and sun and animals
to feel alive.
Probably, you'll find the same amount of dissatisfaction and frustration in them,
however, I'm tending to believe there will be a less amount of emptiness.
I, myself, will not list here what makes me feel alive
but I can tell you it doesn't take much,
just some elementary pleasures;
because I chose and learned.
that you want more than you've got
and yet you might have it all,
all you need to feel alive.
It's just your stupid humanity doing the talking.
And in the end that's why you've got loans and mortgages
and insurances and gadgets and all kind of stuff
that you can't take to the grave or ful/fill yourself with them.
Dissatisfaction. Frustration. You've just sold your soul as non-refundable.
Yes, there are those who need to build a home and a family
and surround themselves with people and sun and animals
to feel alive.
Probably, you'll find the same amount of dissatisfaction and frustration in them,
however, I'm tending to believe there will be a less amount of emptiness.
I, myself, will not list here what makes me feel alive
but I can tell you it doesn't take much,
just some elementary pleasures;
because I chose and learned.
Saturday, 1 October 2011
Just put yourself into this recipe
Dying slowly is the worst thing that can happen to you.
Here are some examples:
-having a long term illness
-having to work till the last day of a job from which you've already been fired
-loving someone that you cannot see and hold whenever you like
-having to live with someone you can't bear
All these «having to» have made me realize that there was never an option for everyone who is dying slowly.
There is no thing such as «living fast and dying slowly», so I'm guessing people who are dying slowly aren't living at all.
This is where I think one should not let the ember turn into ash and try to find a way to change the, what seems, fatality of the process.
Treat each symptom as it appears and make sure not to despair, for panic is the worst enemy because it makes your mind, which controls everything, go crazy.
-Try to distract yourself, diverting from the problem, not postponing it but just trying to make it in a way that it doesn't became an obstacle to what you must do and overcome at each moment.
-Why not having hope, without being completely delusional, and be proud of the beauty of the feeling that you have on its own.
-Find a way to forgive others inside of you, by doing or holding on to something that makes you think you're better off without grudges and that it is worth to feel better and surpass the harmfulness that it has caused you so far.
It's not «Lilac Wine» but will surely do you better than that. I hope so.
Here are some examples:
-having a long term illness
-having to work till the last day of a job from which you've already been fired
-loving someone that you cannot see and hold whenever you like
-having to live with someone you can't bear
All these «having to» have made me realize that there was never an option for everyone who is dying slowly.
There is no thing such as «living fast and dying slowly», so I'm guessing people who are dying slowly aren't living at all.
This is where I think one should not let the ember turn into ash and try to find a way to change the, what seems, fatality of the process.
Treat each symptom as it appears and make sure not to despair, for panic is the worst enemy because it makes your mind, which controls everything, go crazy.
-Try to distract yourself, diverting from the problem, not postponing it but just trying to make it in a way that it doesn't became an obstacle to what you must do and overcome at each moment.
-Why not having hope, without being completely delusional, and be proud of the beauty of the feeling that you have on its own.
-Find a way to forgive others inside of you, by doing or holding on to something that makes you think you're better off without grudges and that it is worth to feel better and surpass the harmfulness that it has caused you so far.
It's not «Lilac Wine» but will surely do you better than that. I hope so.
Friday, 30 September 2011
Saturday, 17 September 2011
Still
To Not discover anything new
but within yourself
is to look outside and not feel the buzz of novelty
in the falling leaves
in the laughter of someone's child
or just, when looking up, at the shapes of the clouds...
To Be still, to not discover anything anymore,
due to the growing exhaustion of the days...
but within yourself
is to look outside and not feel the buzz of novelty
in the falling leaves
in the laughter of someone's child
or just, when looking up, at the shapes of the clouds...
To Be still, to not discover anything anymore,
due to the growing exhaustion of the days...
Sunday, 14 August 2011
Kid
The laughter of a child
brings back my memories of a kid
who was never mine
but that I loved as my own.
It haunts me, now and then.
I chase them away immediately
as if they were mosquitoes menacing to sting me.
Reminding that the kid is 11 and I do not know him,
still feels like waking up from a vivid dream.
Psyche
I write to survive the fact that I'm not living
it's just my way of injecting myself with morphine in this slow death.
I've had them all before, but not him, not quite yet, he remains a mistery to me.. He is utterly complex, his mind is beyond comprehension, and maybe that's why I will never be done with him.
No matter how hard it is, I always love him and I never give up.
Many times, I realize I am as misterious and also not even so clear to myself: it's what you are, what you think you are and the aspects that you show to others; which can also be neither of them.
There was no need for such complexity.. And you can't even pour it into a glass and drink it.. Just a waste.
it's just my way of injecting myself with morphine in this slow death.
I've had them all before, but not him, not quite yet, he remains a mistery to me.. He is utterly complex, his mind is beyond comprehension, and maybe that's why I will never be done with him.
No matter how hard it is, I always love him and I never give up.
Many times, I realize I am as misterious and also not even so clear to myself: it's what you are, what you think you are and the aspects that you show to others; which can also be neither of them.
There was no need for such complexity.. And you can't even pour it into a glass and drink it.. Just a waste.
Monday, 8 August 2011
Leisure, by William Henry Davies
What is this life if, full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare.
No time to stand beneath the boughs
And stare as long as sheep or cows.
No time to see, when woods we pass,
Where squirrels hide their nuts in grass.
No time to see, in broad daylight,
Streams full of stars, like skies at night.
No time to turn at Beauty's glance,
And watch her feet, how they can dance.
No time to wait till her mouth can
Enrich that smile her eyes began.
A poor life this is if, full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare.
We have no time to stand and stare.
No time to stand beneath the boughs
And stare as long as sheep or cows.
No time to see, when woods we pass,
Where squirrels hide their nuts in grass.
No time to see, in broad daylight,
Streams full of stars, like skies at night.
No time to turn at Beauty's glance,
And watch her feet, how they can dance.
No time to wait till her mouth can
Enrich that smile her eyes began.
A poor life this is if, full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare.
Monday, 25 July 2011
Grandma, I miss you.
The best time of my childhood appears to me in the memories I have of my grandma; they are few and precious.
Her name was Serafina, but everyone knew her by Remediana - a word created by derivation of Remedy - because she used to be quite a healer as a person and also she knew about some old remedies that the ancient used. She was quite gifted: a crafty seamstress and exceptional on goan cuisine.
My found memories of her, go back to when she lived with me, when I was less than 9 years old; she used to take care of me and afterwards of my brother too (he was born when I was almost 6).
I used to sleep in the same bed as her; she used to make this funny noise with her mouth when she was sleeping, it was like she was blowing off candles of a birthday cake. Perhaps that's why I've always been insomniac...
Anyway, by day, we used to stay at home and she would ask me to pull out her grey hairs, one by one, which I did with all care (just in a simian-like ritual) and they would pile up in a big and fuzzy roll of silver strings. She used to knit also and I watched her to try and learn something.
In the warmer days, we would go to the park and I'd buy her favorite ice-cream which was lemon flavored.
We would encounter some neighbors and while I played in the park, she would sit and sometimes chat with some other elders.
And it seemed that everyone liked us a lot, and days seemed so sweet in those tender moments of so much simplicity, that were the only ones sheltering me from all the harm would follow.
She was born on 12th November around 1920 (not sure about the year, 19, 20 or 21?), and she died on August 2003; I wasn't there in either moment, but the ones I spent with her, were everything to me, and this so felt and difficult to make, is my homage to her, better yet, my thank you, even though she knew I was so thankful for having had her in my life, I miss her...
Her name was Serafina, but everyone knew her by Remediana - a word created by derivation of Remedy - because she used to be quite a healer as a person and also she knew about some old remedies that the ancient used. She was quite gifted: a crafty seamstress and exceptional on goan cuisine.
My found memories of her, go back to when she lived with me, when I was less than 9 years old; she used to take care of me and afterwards of my brother too (he was born when I was almost 6).
I used to sleep in the same bed as her; she used to make this funny noise with her mouth when she was sleeping, it was like she was blowing off candles of a birthday cake. Perhaps that's why I've always been insomniac...
Anyway, by day, we used to stay at home and she would ask me to pull out her grey hairs, one by one, which I did with all care (just in a simian-like ritual) and they would pile up in a big and fuzzy roll of silver strings. She used to knit also and I watched her to try and learn something.
In the warmer days, we would go to the park and I'd buy her favorite ice-cream which was lemon flavored.
We would encounter some neighbors and while I played in the park, she would sit and sometimes chat with some other elders.
And it seemed that everyone liked us a lot, and days seemed so sweet in those tender moments of so much simplicity, that were the only ones sheltering me from all the harm would follow.
She was born on 12th November around 1920 (not sure about the year, 19, 20 or 21?), and she died on August 2003; I wasn't there in either moment, but the ones I spent with her, were everything to me, and this so felt and difficult to make, is my homage to her, better yet, my thank you, even though she knew I was so thankful for having had her in my life, I miss her...
25.07.2011
As I write so consciously the date, I realize that there's an entwined power in the small lines that draw its numbers.
I had forgotten how much pleasure I used to take from writing with this pen. There's nothing like writing with this pen. There's nothing like writing by hand; having the opportunity of drawing a dance of letters: a romance or a fight, all depending of your state of mind in that instance.
What happened, that made me forget? Was it the new technologies? The hurried schedules?
I just want to rest now. Settle down for a while, in the company of my stainless steel ball pen and who knows what else is to come...
I had forgotten how much pleasure I used to take from writing with this pen. There's nothing like writing with this pen. There's nothing like writing by hand; having the opportunity of drawing a dance of letters: a romance or a fight, all depending of your state of mind in that instance.
What happened, that made me forget? Was it the new technologies? The hurried schedules?
I just want to rest now. Settle down for a while, in the company of my stainless steel ball pen and who knows what else is to come...
Tuesday, 19 July 2011
Dream, think, question, acknowledge.
Why think life, if living it as we want to is impossible?
Why live life as it is presented to us, if what we think of everything is so different and all we get is disappointment and frustration when we face the facts?
Why to dream of a better life, when in reality things will never be as dreamed?
All this loud and numerous ways of communicating and supposedly connecting, and yet everyone's much lonelier.
It's all so damn stupid and ultimately pointless.
Why live life as it is presented to us, if what we think of everything is so different and all we get is disappointment and frustration when we face the facts?
Why to dream of a better life, when in reality things will never be as dreamed?
All this loud and numerous ways of communicating and supposedly connecting, and yet everyone's much lonelier.
It's all so damn stupid and ultimately pointless.
Monday, 13 June 2011
the 100th post being:
I guess «Dream on, sucker!» is a really adequate sentence for me, but I'm hoping the person who said it to me didn't mean it that much.
Friday, 10 June 2011
What is that feeling?
What is that feeling, when you believe in something?
How do you describe it?
Is it like when you have a vivid dream
and then you wake up believing it was real?
Or is it more durable like an actual experience?
How does it feel exactly?
Does it hurt or does it shine inside you,
giving you some kind of eternal bliss?
My deficit for belief is rooted in my veins,
directly pumping to my heart,
poisoning it with disbelief.
So I'm hoping someone can tell me...
how does it feel when one believes.
How do you describe it?
Is it like when you have a vivid dream
and then you wake up believing it was real?
Or is it more durable like an actual experience?
How does it feel exactly?
Does it hurt or does it shine inside you,
giving you some kind of eternal bliss?
My deficit for belief is rooted in my veins,
directly pumping to my heart,
poisoning it with disbelief.
So I'm hoping someone can tell me...
how does it feel when one believes.
Thursday, 19 May 2011
Monday, 16 May 2011
Girl
«Have you seen the most beautiful girl in the world?
And if you did, was she crying?»
She smiled with her eyes and heart-shaped lips used to tell me the most sweet words.
Reminding me of someone I used to be, so happy when near her,
so drunk with the jasmine perfume she was wrapped on.
My eternal gift, the best of all, the girl,
the girl who made anything possible.
And now here I am, stuck in between memories of the days long gone,
trying to move on, but still feeling her scent on the air and her smile...
her smiling eyes that used to make my whole world brighter.
Will I ever see her again, the most beautiful girl in the world,
and if I do, will it last this time?
And if you did, was she crying?»
She smiled with her eyes and heart-shaped lips used to tell me the most sweet words.
Reminding me of someone I used to be, so happy when near her,
so drunk with the jasmine perfume she was wrapped on.
My eternal gift, the best of all, the girl,
the girl who made anything possible.
And now here I am, stuck in between memories of the days long gone,
trying to move on, but still feeling her scent on the air and her smile...
her smiling eyes that used to make my whole world brighter.
Will I ever see her again, the most beautiful girl in the world,
and if I do, will it last this time?
Friday, 13 May 2011
Happiness, I miss you
Happiness, I miss your tender touch
your full-bodied optimism
and the breeze that blows away all worries.
your full-bodied optimism
and the breeze that blows away all worries.
Monday, 9 May 2011
untitled
To love them as our own
and then lose them
and later on realizing they were never ours
...
there's a kind of emptiness that lingers on.
You spend your whole life trying to fill it
with moments of happiness
as the strands of hair fall through your fingers
like the days that slip away from your hands.
All in all there are no reservations for happiness
for it's all in your mind
you can create the world you want to live
you should create it
because it's the only way you'll survive it.
and then lose them
and later on realizing they were never ours
...
there's a kind of emptiness that lingers on.
You spend your whole life trying to fill it
with moments of happiness
as the strands of hair fall through your fingers
like the days that slip away from your hands.
All in all there are no reservations for happiness
for it's all in your mind
you can create the world you want to live
you should create it
because it's the only way you'll survive it.
Monday, 4 April 2011
Dreaming memories
You come crawling into my dreams
like an uninvited insect on a summer night
slightly buzzing, trying to be unnoticed.
Or are you really?
I've shun you off my day-life,
now that you seldom appear,
but you've managed to get in my dreams
making me get face-to-face with the reality
that you are asleep, in my sub-conscience,
always spawning in me webs of memories.
The brown-yellowish still-photographs in the eyes' retina
swarm my dormant mind and the child, that same child,
comes to me, to my arms again, as it did in a distant past.
I thought I was cured, but memories can't be deleted
especially when they're carved in our chest
with the darkest ink of pain and sorrow.
Something will always feel broken inside my heart
but I'm still hoping I can make it better
by mending it with patches of happiness
and plentifulness that are yet to come...
I hope.
Still, I couldn't ever tell why hope lingers above all evilness,
still I couldn't ever tell why the memories still haunt me now and then.
like an uninvited insect on a summer night
slightly buzzing, trying to be unnoticed.
Or are you really?
I've shun you off my day-life,
now that you seldom appear,
but you've managed to get in my dreams
making me get face-to-face with the reality
that you are asleep, in my sub-conscience,
always spawning in me webs of memories.
The brown-yellowish still-photographs in the eyes' retina
swarm my dormant mind and the child, that same child,
comes to me, to my arms again, as it did in a distant past.
I thought I was cured, but memories can't be deleted
especially when they're carved in our chest
with the darkest ink of pain and sorrow.
Something will always feel broken inside my heart
but I'm still hoping I can make it better
by mending it with patches of happiness
and plentifulness that are yet to come...
I hope.
Still, I couldn't ever tell why hope lingers above all evilness,
still I couldn't ever tell why the memories still haunt me now and then.
Sunday, 27 February 2011
James Blake - Limit to your love
There's a limit to your love
Like a waterfall in slow motion
Like a map with no ocean
There's a limit to your love
Your love, your love, your love
There's a limit to you care
So carelessly there, is it truth or dare
There's a limit to your care
There's a limit to your love
Like a waterfall in slow motion
Like a map with no ocean
There's a limit to your love
Your love, your love, your love
There's a limit to you care
So carelessly there, is it truth or dare
There's a limit to your care
[ From: http://www.metrolyrics.com/limit-to-your-love-lyrics-james-blake.html ]
Like a waterfall in slow motion
Like a map with no ocean
There's a limit to your love
Your love, your love, your love
There's a limit to you care
So carelessly there, is it truth or dare
There's a limit to your care
There's a limit to your love
Like a waterfall in slow motion
Like a map with no ocean
There's a limit to your love
Your love, your love, your love
There's a limit to you care
So carelessly there, is it truth or dare
There's a limit to your care
[ From: http://www.metrolyrics.com/limit-to-your-love-lyrics-james-blake.html ]
Monday, 31 January 2011
Lost in this world by Richmond Fontaine
I fucked up again
I barely know where I am
I'm sorry I ain't called you in days
Maybe I'll never get over Wes and the hospital
I don't even have bus fare home
I'm just lost in this world
I'm lost in this world
Lost in this world
Maybe it's my skin
It's too thin
Maybe it's my heart that always caves in
But I fucked up again
Why, I barely know who I am
I'm sorry for all the things I haven't done
I'm just lost in this world
Lost in this world
Lost in this world
I barely know where I am
I'm sorry I ain't called you in days
Maybe I'll never get over Wes and the hospital
I don't even have bus fare home
I'm just lost in this world
I'm lost in this world
Lost in this world
Maybe it's my skin
It's too thin
Maybe it's my heart that always caves in
But I fucked up again
Why, I barely know who I am
I'm sorry for all the things I haven't done
I'm just lost in this world
Lost in this world
Lost in this world
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