Epitaph on this world, by Henry David Thoreau

Here lies the body of this world, 
Whose soul alas to hell is hurled. 
This golden youth long since was past, 
Its silver manhood went as fast, 
An iron age drew on at last; 
'Tis vain its character to tell, 
The several fates which it befell, 
What year it died, when 'twill arise, 
We only know that here it lies. 

There are no more values, for now everything has a price.

oranges and bells
sometimes it's the way she tells
the green in the meadows
and the darkened sighs
of someone who knows
the fields are now graves

strawberries and horns
raspberries and moans

sometimes I wonder
if there's any sweet dream
that'll become true


grey skies and red seas
as it rains far in the horizon
and the storms are upon us
with their roars chasing us

monsters and honey
phantoms and bliss

you grow inside the trees
and whisper in her ears
the sun is just a flower
that wishes that you were here

love scattered wildly

My heart aches because I miss you
and life isn't worth it without you

A glimpse at a meaning of life

"Let us reach for the world that ought to be – that spark of the divine that still stirs within each of our souls.

Somewhere today, in the here and now, in the world as it is, a soldier sees he's outgunned, but stands firm to keep the peace. Somewhere today, in this world, a young protestor awaits the brutality of her government, but has the courage to march on. Somewhere today, a mother facing punishing poverty still takes the time to teach her child, scrapes together what few coins she has to send that child to school – because she believes that a cruel world still has a place for that child's dreams.

Let us live by their example. We can acknowledge that oppression will always be with us, and still strive for justice. We can admit the intractability of deprivation and still strive for dignity. Clear-eyed, we can understand that there will be war, and still strive for peace. 

We can do that – for that is the story of human progress; that's the hope of all the world; and at this moment of challenge, that must be our work here on Earth."

 (Last part of Obama's 2009 Peace Nobel Prize speech)

Safe Haven

to have someone's arms to run to
as a private haven to feel safe
my love should always prevail
as the true home for my wholeness

his blue eyes as the sea
his lips that mean more than me

it rains often in my world
but if I could I would be
singing in the rain
to wash all the pain

a rather dreamy goal
to encounter my perfect love
who can smother the screams
from my mind and from my soul

I wish, I wish
his wavy hair and bronzed skin
just mine to feel within

Ain't no grave (can hold my body down), by Johnny Cash

There ain't no grave can hold my body down 
There ain't no grave can hold my body down 
When I hear that trumpet sound I'm gonna rise right out of the ground 
Ain't no grave can hold my body down 

Well, look way down the river, what do you think I see? 
I see a band of angels and they're coming after me 
Ain't no grave can hold my body down 
There ain't no grave can hold my body down 

Well, look down yonder Gabriel, put your feet on the land and sea 
But Gabriel don't you blow your trumpet 'til you hear it from me 
There ain't no grave can hold my body down 
Ain't no grave can hold my body down 

Well, meet me Jesus, meet me. Meet me in the middle of the air 
And if these wings don't fail me I will meet you anywhere 
Ain't no grave can hold my body down 
There ain't no grave can hold my body down 

Well, meet me mother and father, meet me down the river road 
And momma you know that I'll be there when I check in my load 
Ain't no grave can hold my body down 
There ain't no grave can hold my body down 
There ain't no grave can hold my body down

A world of bittersweet childhood

I hate the world we live in,
where the sweetness of life is tainted
by the abuses on children
exploited in cocoa plantations,
recollecting diamonds in rivers
of blood of innocents flowing,
as they're forced to fight in wars
that were never their own.

With a blackened heart and a thunderous mind
the charcoal slips down from my teary eyes
and the roaring comes down my spine
as it sprays from my mouth into the sky.

It's the Malalas of this world
in their innocent, pure belief
that it can all be possible
if we wish for it,
maybe loud enough
it will reach the snobbish men
and the devilish ones too.

May our hearts be strong
may our bodies resist
and our minds to the storm
that men insist on
for there's too many dying
and too many in pain
to keep feeding only the rich
and not the poor, it's insane!

May our souls stop being raped
may we be free to play outside
and our small bodies grow shaped
to face the winds of a troubled tide.

I am the Autumnal Sun, by Henry David Thoreau

Sometimes a mortal feels in himself Nature 
-- not his Father but his Mother stirs 
within him, and he becomes immortal with her
immortality. From time to time she claims 
kindredship with us, and some globule 
from her veins steals up into our own.

I am the autumnal sun,
With autumn gales my race is run;
When will the hazel put forth its flowers,
Or the grape ripen under my bowers?
When will the harvest or the hunter's moon
Turn my midnight into mid-noon?
I am all sere and yellow,
And to my core mellow.
The mast is dropping within my woods,
The winter is lurking within my moods,
And the rustling of the withered leaf
Is the constant music of my grief... 

This was supposed to be the Future!
But guess what, I've seen the Future and we're all so f*cked!

Wake up and check reality

We are not infinite
and our souls aren't untarnished;
the prisons are real
the pain and the suffer too

but no

no one admits it
no one says it out loud
there's no bright side of the story
no other way of seeing things

you are born:
not of the love of your parents
not for being special or unique
because you don't exist as yourself
until it's too late to love you
too late to find you filled with cuteness

you are born because everyone else is,
because they need you to be used for their purposes
you're just toilet paper: usable and discarded.

Yes, I am what you call a pessimist
just because I'm lucid, I see the truth

and truth does not set me free
or feeds my ATM.

If you would ever stop to think about it
you'd realize it
and the sadness of it all
I can't promise you'll overcome it
after your conscience is awake
In fact, I think there's no coming back.

Love's sorrow tales

Oh my heart, oh my sorrow, my woe for no tomorrow...

My blue heart drowns in your rain, you're the thunder in my head.
They say no one can take away our soul, no one can diminish our spirit,
but what if your soul is empty, what if our spirit was crushed?
and the only one who can shed light in my mind, defeating all nightmares terrorists,
is always far away?
and I don't even know if he would be willing to face this grim venture
to stay with me close together forever.

One day I'll kill it, just to feel the pleasure of not hearing its constant roar anymore.

Invictus, by William Ernest Henley

Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the Pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance

I have not winced nor cried aloud.

Under the bludgeonings of chance

My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears

Looms but the Horror of the shade,

And yet the menace of the years

Finds, and shall find, me unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,

How charged with punishments the scroll.

I am the master of my fate:

I am the captain of my soul.

Colorful Love

You've got rainbows shining from your smile

and your hair is like honey wheat that I anxiously weave

I love you, it's as simple as that.

Even far, I can feel you sigh and I wear your skin,
my dream man, my eternal lullaby.

You've got the ocean and the cliffs in your eyes,

that reflect all my favourite colours

I make love with you, it's as simple as that.

Even far, I can feel the sand beneath your feet
and the foam that lingers on the shore.

Song to the Siren, by Tim Buckley

Long afloat on shipless oceans 
I did all my best to smile 
'til your singing eyes and fingers 
Drew me loving to your isle 
And you sang 
Sail to me 
Sail to me 
Let me enfold you 
Here I am 
Here I am 
Waiting to hold you 
[ Lyrics from: http://www.lyricsfreak.com/t/tim+buckley/song+to+the+siren_20137304.html ] 
Did I dream you dreamed about me? 
Were you hare when I was fox? 
Now my foolish boat is leaning 
Broken lovelorn on your rocks, 
For you sing, 'touch me not, touch me not, come back tomorrow: 
O my heart, o my heart shies from the sorrow' 

I am puzzled as the newborn child 
I am troubled at the tide: 
Should I stand amid the breakers? 
Should I lie with death my bride? 
Hear me sing, 'swim to me, swim to me, let me enfold you: 
Here I am, here I am, waiting to hold you'


P.S.: This one you could play when I die http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vMTEtDBHGY4

How?

How does one survive when the one who put you in this world wishes you were dead?

How do you live when you're constantly battered and hurt, smashed into the ground,
your soul glued to the concrete and your mind buried six feet under?

My heart is a cradle of sharp broken glass making it bleed every second and sometimes the twisted minds press them deep and it bleeds a bit more.

How much pain does it take? How much lost blood does it take?

Desperate for a home, health and a job, a life, for a change.

we pile up frustrations,
we're in daily pain,

my heart is weary
and my mind is insane

there's no better tommorow
no end for this neverending sorrow

thank you my everlasting friend,
Requiescat in pace 

Mother-Haters

Mothereous-monsters that regurgitate their children
and vomit upon them their frustrations;
teach them all about hatred and violence
because they've never been able to hug them
say that they love them
or even hold their hands in dire moments.

Wake me up when the world ends
and with it all misery and pain.

What's the point of living
if all you get is pain?

I am so strong that it aches
I'm so high that it tires
'Cuz I'm not like I was made to be
and I guess no one will ever see.

You = (Peace + Love = Happiness)

In the West we're taught that we all deserve to be happy

In the East we're taught that life is suffering

Conclusion: in the West we're constantly frustrated / in the East we feel happy just to be alive

Sonnet: The blind distance

when you've been a fool and been blind
you have to stop and open your eyes wide
because there's no other way
of achieving peace of mind

I seem to leave when you're gone
just like if it was you leaving me
and then I hear the same old song
as a kind of therapy treating me

there's no wanderer soul anymore
because I'm nonexistent 
I'm not here because I'm sore


you're not blind, you're distant
and your heart can't see me
though your eyes believe me

In this life there's nothing only black or only white, it's all just a matter of perspective.

When you leave me alone, by Piano Magic

I'm okay for a couple of hours
and then, like a fog, your absence erases all details
and I can't keep warm

so the (...) is always (...)
and the cups pile up around the sink
mocking the hours
I re-position inanimate objects
so they have a better view of the garden
and I move ornaments
so their shadows are more pronounced


I stay awake until early hours
watching minor westerns
anything to avoid getting in a cold empty bed

I play that record you always find melancholic
Red House Painters
stars (...)
Forget to take my medicine
and then I walk up the hill
and stand up on the street corner
and all weathers
as if like a lighthouse
I could somehow recklessly show you the way back

the clock sometimes seems to hold its seconds
and the sky sometimes seems to hold the birds

When you leave me alone
I become who I was before:
a two-piece jigsaw
with one piece missing

I plug into the old answering voice machine
to listen to friends I've lost
their voice is like (...)
and the bar you don't like
I talk about you too much
and I know I'm talking about you too much
but I can't shake you
'cause I don't want to shake you

I wear the same shirt for days
Don't shave
Sleep on the couch
Spend hours watching the dust in the sunlight
thinking: "will this dust last longer than both of us?".

When you leave me alone, 
I retract,
I'm okay for a couple of hours
then, like a fog, your absence erases all details
and I can't keep warm

[the possible transcription]

being crazy is only funny when it's not hurting anyone

Abyss

Once you've been around death
once you've tried it's cold whisper
that gave you chills all over your body
you can now live indifferently
because you know you'll come to rest

Gravity pulls you under
as you're on the verge of the abyss

The deepest wound will not scar
the greatest lost will not be filled
and my pain has become so grand
that nothing can get it extinct

Gravity pulls everything
as you're on the edge to nothing

The Inner Light, by George Harrison

Without going out of my door
I can know all things on earth
With out looking out of my window
I can know the ways of heaven

The farther one travels
The less one knows
The less one really knows

Without going out of your door
You can know all things on earth
With out looking out of your window
You can know the ways of heaven

The farther one travels
The less one knows
The less one really knows

Arrive without traveling
See all without looking
Do all without doing

you're weak, spineless


but what tempts you?


is it the light that shines from her hair?

The epilectic fool

I'm nothing but an epileptic fool
drowning in blood and drool

Hear the countdown to your departure
it's a flight, they're calling you're name
no wonder you got no rapture
just let someone else get the blame

Thirty seconds and you're on the ground
when the fall kills the bruises
and you head down to the dead-end trail
of your life, such a mysterious fail.


I'm nothing but an epileptic fool
drowning in blood and drool


There will still be light
wherever you go, wherever you are,
it will burn you alive
and dissolve your body to tears.

Because that intermittent shine
will always trigger your mind
you will always be drained
and I will never be kind.


I'm nothing but an epileptic fool
drowning in blood and drool

To my old friend, eternal absent

Can we just talk?
I know it's very hard to forgive ourselves, if not impossible, but can we not overrate our illnesses and forget that we're sick, just for an instance.
There's always something, once in a while, that I'd like to tell you. As you were my friend I imagine you can understand what I'm talking about.
Can we please understand and realize ourselves of all the time we will have lost till we're gone, that we didn't talk, that we didn't speak to each other. Do you want to loose?
Did you meant to loose me? If you're that bad, if you meant just to use me, why did you even bother to apologize after we were done? Was it just to feel good? Was it because your therapist told you or just because you need to feel that you're in control manipulating others?

To have and to hold: that's the hardest thing to do in what can be a long and unpredictable life.

Your misery

Your sorrows are like lullabies for me
I couldn't care less for your tears in the sea
and on and on I come across you again
somehow there seems there'll be no end.

When your life conditions aren't great
and you got no respect for yourself
do you think anyone is going to state
that you're as talented as hell?

And on and on you drag carrying on
your miseries and woes like treacheries
that were stabbed in your hunchback

And on and on you always linger on
in my bloody veins and numb pains
that will never be gone.

No patience to listen to the whining of invalid problems or socialize... maybe I'm just not a good friend anymore.

Always look on the bright side of life nº 1

the good thing about being ostracized,

and also pushing everyone away, 

is that when you're gone people won't feel that much... 

(always thinking of others :D) 

Time is like Food: sometimes you swallow, sometimes you chew.

Vein

Don't let no Man steal your core,
Don't let no Man steal your soul,
Understand that you are more
Than he could ever troll.

My heart beats at the pulse of the Universe
and my truth is strangled by Saturn's rings
Come along if you can travel beside me
if in your back you got no strings.

The seed you carry runs in your blood
as your veins come across the u-turn
there's a rush of blood to the head
it's better to explode than slowly burn.

The roots that are drawn in your body
aren't what you're made of
so believe that you're as beautiful
as profound and characterful.

Beware: when you're always someone else's background you might forget that you're the protagonist in your life and that she's got the close-up on you.

Why I don't like people?

Because of so many things, for instance, because they're liars, creeps, shitheads, violent, rude, obnoxious, ignorant, and so on.

liars liars pants on fire

Reasons, by images, to not have children

      There's nothing logical 


                          in an illogical world


with logical people 


  

"My style is to not have a style".

The hardest thing to do is to have no style, to be unaffiliated, without a party and without belief. 

Hemingway in Woody Allen's movie "Midnight in Paris"

"I believe that love that is true and real, creates a respite from death. All cowardice comes from not loving or not loving well, which is the same thing. And then the man who is brave and true looks death squarely in the face, like some rhino-hunters I know or Belmonte, who is truly brave... It is because they make love with sufficient passion, to push death out of their minds... until it returns, as it does, to all men... and then you must make really good love again."

Absolute resignation...

... like a firefly trapped in a box, watching all others free.

For the love of my sister

My heart aches to see her tears
sliding down towards her lips
and her dripping nose reddening
as her voice starts trembling.

She's my little girl, always,
no matter what happens,
she's a piece of myself
and there's no other way.

I hope she's never hurt
or injured by the harsh
or the damned like me,

So I try to keep her safe
within the light of laughter
and the warm hope of the after.

We're living in the world of illogical: all so social, but not socializing; able to attain so many wealth and not able to dispose/make use of it for lack of time and so...

There's no point at all: we're just money collectors.

We spend all life gathering money:
- for the infancy, then school, College, marriage, kids (and they start the vicious circle again), moving on to  gathering money to help their children and then to pay medical bills and sometimes lawyers and then the elderly home.

- in the end, after having spent a lifetime gathering money to pay for our lives, we have to have money to pay our own deaths and our burials too.

It's bloody awful what we've done to ourselves and others, establishing hideous core foundations for our existence.

Never start digging without being completely ready for what you may find.

To my brothers and sisters

You'll never know how much I loved you;
how much effort and dedication
I've put on to protect and take care of you;
as if you were my own to do so.

You don't remember anything
because you were young
and I've never reminded you
of how much we did together.

With the years passing
I've become bitter and angry
because you were no longer mine
to care and I wasn't important to you.

So when my life is trough
and my heart beats any longer
I want you to know
that I loved you so.

Lust for Design (?)

What is this craving for redesigning everything, trying to make it more beautiful?

Why has our society become so addicted to visual stimulus?

Is what we are and what we make, that awful, that you have to cover and incur in a blind pursuit to embellish everything?

It's comes to me the old question: «a rose, if given another name, is not still a rose?»

Or is it all a product of our deepest fears of death, damnation and disgrace? As always, trying to lie to ourselves in order to not perish at the harsh and ugly face of reality?

We stopped creating from scratch just to work on everything there is already, and most times not even making improvements. This comes to me as a sign of how we are in the process of dooming ourselves and not rising above. It's spreading like the poison of advertising and consumption.

“Maybe some women aren't meant to be tamed. 

Maybe they just need to run free til they find someone just as wild to run with them.”

by Carrie Bradshaw, in Sex and the City

Being human is so complex that not even our actions say who we are.

No, I'm not going your way.

Marriage and kids seem to me a lousy business, the kind you'd get if you entered a travel agency without knowing what you want and you end up with what everyone else is getting.

Why the hell, in my perfect sense, would I bring children into a world of major famine, rage and disgusting human beings that sell and betray and slaughter as a hobby?

I prefer not following any road, instead of going on the same that everyone's going just to not feel bored, or lonesome, or whatever selfish reason.

Of all things, why am I an artist? 
Because I just have one life.

The bullet-proof heart

Source: http://poesiadodesassossego.blogspot.com/2012/02/poema-objecto-coracoes-prova-de-bala.html

Now you have sorrow, but your heart will rejoice again and no one can take that from you.

The lingering kisses

With your embrace I am born
and I scream at the height of my lungs
to the life, full of colors,
I am now forever yours.

Warm are the nights that sleep
and cold are the days that shine,
in my dreams you are mine,
but not by day 'cause we never meet.

You're my definitive lover,
my thorn enhanced members,
like there is no other
that can be a better me.

My love for you remembers
every time you gave me a key:
kisses that linger in my heart
and become warmth in the dark.

We, 


that see so many movies, 


have made our life the biggest of them all.

“I’m in love with you, and I’m not in the business of denying myself the simple pleasure of saying true things. I’m in love with you, and I know that love is just a shout into the void, and that oblivion is inevitable, and that we’re all doomed and that there will come a day when all our labor has been returned to dust, and I know the sun will swallow the only earth we’ll ever have, and I am in love with you.” — John Green

I have nothing. 
my only estate is my personal wisdom 
acquired through paths of misery and grace.

The Unknown

I do not recognize your face
from the windows of the Past,
but I know we're on the same pace
because you're not like anyone else.

I can feel your warm embrace
in my filled heart and soul
as I never turn this page
and don't ever feel this whole.

It puzzles me not to know who you are
and what's even worse about it
is that I feel you're some kind of star.

Whenever this undefined doubt flit
back into my weary dreams
I knew only what it seems.

People think friends are like flour: there's the self-raising, the plain and the all-purpose one.

The Prize.

No money, no honor, no war to fight but life,
Sometimes there's no winners I realize.

Whatever you do nothing good comes out of it,
Whatever you feel it won't make you any better.

Theses flying thoughts infest my gestures
and I have no actions at all
as I climb on and on in my sins
there's no peek of glory.

You never understood my battles
and couldn't love me more than for a while
couldn't grasp my feelings for you
even though you tried only for a second.

Come now and join me in my demise
Because you're the core of the story
Even more than we can reckon
There was never a possible prize.

Identity

There are peoples that haven't got themselves an identity, because they don't have enough History and even Culture, or also because they're just a melting pot of other peoples.

Not having an identity can be quite confusing. In this world in which everything is rushed into judgement not having a definition scares everyone else, not having a definition is seen as threatening.

This world has made our brains divide people in three: white dumb rich know-and-can-all people, black poor and insignificant people, and terrorist suicidal-bombers. Yes, it's true, not just simplistically; our brains are formatted to make everything we sense fit into concepts that society has created and introduced us to since a young age. That's why we can only see black and white, and then feel grey, and then have a sense of confusion installed when realizing something's not quite right in all the conceptions we've designed.

What's who we are? Is it what's to see or what's to feel? Is it both? How do we negotiate when they're opposites, when the informations we obtain just don't add up in our conceptions and appearing so contradictory? Do we ignore them and let the judgement speak louder?

Are we just what people think of us? Or are we much more, or another thing, different than everyone thinks? And if so, who knows us? How do we show who we really are, in order to break all stereotypes that hang upon us?

That's why we are mostly naturally solitary beings .

Can or should we put in order what we are first to last? And how do we do it? Am I first an individual or am I a collective being?

How can we move on if we don't know who we are as individuals and collective beings?

 if people had a conscience and were aware that every single one of them are dying, they would be much better than what they are... 


As they don't, they're just a bunch of rotting beings, freaking animalia

Still a little bit of your taste...