November 7, 2013 § Leave a comment
A long downpour has gone by
from a hundred and six years delay
Leaving naught behind
Nothing but ash and bones
Buzzing in his ears
As the windows draws open,
and the dripping meets the wood
a pure scent is on go —
A feeling nothing can’t be undone
Still no time would heal the wounds
On a thin garment on road
Pretending heart and soul
Was is the rain…
to wipe it whole
and leave no marks
to clean his heart
and cleanse his soul
After the rainfall
all that’s left
is silence whole
and it kills from inside
whispering his death
in the cushion
in his bed
all that’s left…
Sun reflects in the water driblets
the memories seems to slowly fade
The irony presences the laughter
no water could really wash his face
The billionth voice heard
from such a long time
ages of unborn…
“Feed me with your uncaring
Spread me through your plague”
Gravity float away
as if the real simply peel
his subtle den
Would’ve match his inner pain
Imploding the huge asylum of shades
When he set his chains
the shackles had his name
Through the dirt of his mind
Blazed red his fate
Was it the rain
That washed away
His whole face
Has the rest bounded, he is only flesh
May 22, 2013 § Leave a comment
meaningless pit –
most of times
I’m fucking satisfied
I’m a surface of null
of the shit around.
I don’t –
I’ve never –
care for meaningless
if I’m or not
it just doesn’t matter
at least no more
than things around
O, if I could get rid of it.
I show that me,
like a black hole
But then –
when the sight trespass –
what am I
but a fucking black hole.
I’m never attached
pile of shit
everything you please
that’s how I get by.
May 17, 2013 § Leave a comment
I stare at the clock –
it is fucking 5 AM.
And I’ve got nowhere to go
I hear no thoughts
and bear no light
but it’s still so dark outside.
Come to think
it is not I who stares at the clock
it is the clock watching me
and it never judges
although everything it sees
every second be.
It channels me –
wakes me up,
puts me to sleep.
Although it’s never so simple.
April 8, 2013 § Leave a comment
Death is certainty
and sureness’ in always in doubt.
Worse than death
Is the death of your certainty.
When you feel perished
But you’re not;
And there’s no heartbeat
Though you can easily breathe.
In a pit somewhere
The limbo hole
Can’t look down
Can’t look up
If you’re flying or falling
No one possibly knows
There’s no foward
and there’s no back.
You’re part of an eternal loop –
A loop of yourself.
And you’re lost
In the vines of your mind.
I hope someday you can at ease rest.
In the endless pit
we feel the lack
No sorrow –
And certainly no faith.
The songless pit
is the death of death.
April 5, 2013 § Leave a comment
I never found my glasses
I spit my soul here and there
Round around as if in a forest in hell.
But I’ve tried.
Hell, I’ve tried.
I want to feel the cold
And heat myself up with coffee
All the day long;
But I only feel the hotness
Though I heat myself still.
I have no rear mirror to look back
So I have to turn back my head
And a gut feeling warns me
Never to walk while looking back.
I see now the strings I tender
I never meant to have them perished
And never wanted it to leave me.
Sometimes it’s not my decision to make;
Or so I guess.
So if a string is weak
and ready to die,
Let the plug go as well.
It’s useless without it.
I’ll pull it off
Rather than trying to fix it afresh.
And let it all be.
As renew is a fake word –
It conceals the past time.
And pretends it is a whole new road.
Somehow, and that’s optimistic,
I’ll find another new string and plug;
And back at start line.
September 25, 2012 § Leave a comment
Sane to say the world never grew
and from a plain past any could brew
lest it gets me deeper in my brain
claiming nothing and none makes full sense
altruist born souls gone wildly insane
for they were long born somewhere that wasn’t theirs
like a bright star in a full vast sky in grey.
O, the Planet’s ancientness
The wiser, the huger the defect
and we are often millions blemishes
wandering and grasping through years in packs.
I sought once to live in a smaller world
whence I’d harvest smiles of kindness
And if a kin of mine would come down
I would simply stretch my hand edge ways
and pin again his dreams in a while
for our proximity would not be strain only to our souls
it would share the responsibility with our bodies’ own.
But I blabber;
By reason of I hear a lonely stream
it longs to say to me
that in a short future there is nowhere for my dreams to be.
And a passerby carriage ran by me;
From its wooden chamber I heard what seemed the stream
led by the noisiest horses
which never slowed its speed.
The world now tiny and frown;
Such as a graceful hand it seized me
Its voice soft but solemn
thus, it dropped a tear in their honor:
“Poetry?” it said to me,
“To frame beautifully your words is such a waste
of fine grammar and raw creativity!”
It never hit me as it should
so here I kept
so here I stood.
The hanging heads —
apart of brains
Wise they are
when they complain.
The Planet now a peer;
“To the wise there’s no boundaries!”
they often cheer
but limits are to every seer
otherwise there wouldn’t be none
And the hanging heads would have never been born
into the fast circle cast within.
A dead leaf falls by my hand
as someone congratulates a dumb every now and then
We shall cry no tears for faulty words! –
true it is they can’t always be erased
but you can always strive to write in the line below
and turn in brilliance what first was nothing but wrong.
August 19, 2012 § Leave a comment
In those strolls you see the larger trees, those tall ones and they are up high. They don’t touch the sky but at least they’re higher than you. You start to think whether you should become a tree, but then you realize you’d be a small bush after all. But this made you forget everything. Shit. I wonder what should I be thinking. There’s always something to think about, your mind always needs to defecate. One way or another.
Some of the days in the summer tires my lungs off. And you kick the sheets of you in a rage. “If I was a skeleton I would never sweat”, you think. Shit. Lost myself in random thoughts again. I walked. That’s when I saw those trees. I don’t want to be a tree after all. No.
Have you ever wondered how the words were invented? Do you even imagine how complex it is to weave grammars altogether and butch it over and over till it becomes something. If it becomes something. Never knew. I wish I knew so I could fill up some words in my thought. Maybe I could teach this. And the kids would be “wow! really?”. But they wouldn’t really care, and the one who did would quickly forget. I wonder what kids want to learn these days. Then I could teach them all, if I knew of course. Shit. Lost myself again. Hell. How, how can I keep doing this. There is this woman looking at me and probably waiting for me to say something. She doesn’t look impatient, though. I wonder why. I’d be. I bet that’s because she’s pretty enough to never become impatient. Guess I’ll try.
“You have a different look in your eyes”, she says. I tell her I didn’t understood. She repeats. I tell her that I listened, I just didn’t understood. She laughs. Laughs at me. This grabbed my attention. I always notice the smallest, smallest actions. I like the details, they’re not for everyone. I won… Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.
The woman says that sometimes my eyes they seem empty, but full of doubts on the whole. I guess that if you’re full of doubts then you’re half empty. She says maybe. Maybe. Maybe. Maybe. What did she meant? There’s nothing more indescribable as Maybe. That’s why she used so much. I might have to start too.
In the cold days the engines of my old car sometimes dies. Dead as a shot bird in the ground. Shit. She stares at me with those eyes of her. Her eyes are different than mine, I guess. They lock me. Hell, they do. Eyes that seek eyes and hunt them, hunt them so fiercely. A pair of lions seeking the pack’s food. Wonder if her eyes feed of other eyes. Shit. She calls me names. Honey, darling, dear, love, honey, honey, honey. I wish I could call her names too, I just don’t know how to do it. I tried. She laughed again. That laugh. I was starting to laugh. She said some other names too but I don’t remember. I don’t remember. I don’t remember. I don’t remember. They say if you repeat many times a lie that you start to believe it. Because I remembered and I just didn’t wanted to. So I don’t remember anymore.
“You and I. We’re different. Different from each other. That’s why we’re here”, she says. I closed my eyes. She’s right. Damn. She’s fucking right. I never liked people similar to me. I hate them. People always seek perfection but their concept of perfection is their own self. Disgusting. I never understood. Sometimes it is better never to understand. Shit.
She landed her hand softly into my knee and with the pinky slightly she stroked it. She asked about the surgery. Have I ever told her about this? Doesn’t make much difference know. I tell “It’s alright now”. Funny. She says I’m funny. I was never a funny man, not that I knew. It’s hard to get me smiling, I think I look stupid. I guess being funny is being a little stupid. Shit. Why someone stroke the lover’s knee? I didn’t understood her.
She lit a cigarette. She smoked pretty. Smoker women, if they do it right I mean, have a sensuality that drives me crazy. Crazy. She did right. Every fucking gulp of nicotine. Every one of them. Fuck cancer, I like to see her smoking. That’s something she said to me once. Fuck cancer. I’m not able to change this. I don’t really care. I will probably die before her anyways. She told me this as well. Fuck you, why’d you worry. You will die before me. She never took his eyes of me. Normally I’d be feeling weird. But I really felt nothing. Nothing. She tells something. Sorry. She muttered something. So I couldn’t listen to her and she could listen to my voice saying “I’m sorry?”. Woman like to hear this. Hardly. Or at least this kind of woman. She knew I didn’t meant what she wanted to meant, but in the bright side (for her) at least I said it. Well, I wouldn’t say it otherwise anyways. Then she smiled and said “Ascension“. Hell, what’s with this woman. I started to think why she’d ever wanted something with me. Guess she was slowly lurking me into a trap. Maybe. I wondered how many times I had been seeing her now. I’m lost in my own time. Shit.
So she repeated. Ascension. “Ascension what?”, I stupidly ask. “It’s where we’re headed, honey”. Those fucking names all over again. I liked those names. Come to think, she never used my name. Only once, I mean. The day I met her. It was a sunny day. I told my name and she said, “sorry?”. I repeated. And she repeated right after me, almost in unison. She tricked me the day I met her, come to think. But she tricked me like she never did. Whatever. She started to explain we look like ducks. Ducks. We walk with our two legs aimlessly, and our hands were tied in our backs, as the ducks wings. I never understood her. That’s why I liked her. She wasn’t good with the metaphor, though. Never was. “We should walk with our arms free and that, my dear, is the first step for what we’re headed”. You make no sense, I say. I always told her that.
In the autumn sometimes I get drunk while grabbing old leaves. My pa says it’s a weird hobby. It’s not a fucking hobby. I don’t do it because I want to, I just do it. Really. Once me and my lover done it on the garden. Just once. Fuck. I can’t get her out of my head now. Shit. Shit. Shit.
All her crazy talks. I listened and I didn’t even knew why. I’ve been trained not to listen. I’m a man after all. I guess that doesn’t work in a hundred percent rate. Not even a shot in the head works in a hundred percent rate of death, why would this. I should be more smart. She longed and talked minutes about this ascension of her. I told her to leave the ducks alone, to use another metaphor, but she couldn’t. She kept talking about ducks. I kept against the idea. Told her she was crazy. I always tell her this and she always accept it. Not this time though. It went for several minutes. “Look,” I said, “I really have to be going in an hour”. And I really had to. I hated work. She hated work as well. I think that’s the most similarity we had. She worked in an office or something. I forgot where I work. I forgot. I forgot. I forgot. So we forgot the words (and the works) and went to love. Not real love. I guess I didn’t really loved her, as she didn’t too. I’m not sure. I guess that’s the perfect relationship for me. I think.
She never gave me birthday gifts. Never. The gifts were given at random days. And it was never something I asked, or commented I wanted to buy. I was starting to think that she was the one trained not to listen. But a week ago I came home and there was a puff duck on the top of my freezer. This duck had his wings teared apart. Beneath his was a note saying If we don’t free our wings, we end up loosing them.
I guess that was her so called Ascension. Shit. But only maybe.