segunda-feira, 3 de setembro de 2018

Centuries fallen

Mother, these centenary walls have fallen,
Mother, these blackened stones have burnt,
Once white full of pride, standing tall,
Great knowledge contained, now lost to all,
What a waste these fools let happen.

Mother, we have lost everything,
We gave it our best and still lost,
We burnt the trees, we burnt the planet,
Let life dwindle, everything gone to waste,
The skies burn bright tonight.

Such a waste, such a loss, everything no one knew,
No more old scrolls to be kept safe,
No more dust from pages centuries old,
You've spoken enough, no one to hear you tomorrow,
You're not on a screen, one could hardly believe. 

domingo, 18 de março de 2018

Move on

Could be, if one were to be drowned, one's last wish would be to feel the Sun on the skin again. Could be, if you could just wish it, that you could feel that peace of mind again. You could work for it, swim towards the surface, struggle to feel alive, could be that you might just get it. For me it could be to feel without feeling. I wish not to be bothered by the disappointment of having hopes for the wrong person again, but still maintain the dream to find someone real again. Right now it's difficult to have the second one without the first. However, it's far more simpler to just ignore the disappointment and go on as a cynic. It's not who I want to be, however. For now I'll just keep to myself, quiet and aloof. It's the best way to move on.

quinta-feira, 21 de dezembro de 2017

Of closure

I look more at the past than to the future. Wide awake I produce more memories than desires. So lost I seem to me that you might see me roaming the streets with eyes gazing at the horizon whislt my mind will be wondering where I left myself. Here I give words, here I drain my soul, but closure seems to grow everyday, stronger, with a will to learn to move on. I've always believed that alone I'm stronger, now I'm stronger and alone I seem to be myself.

quinta-feira, 14 de dezembro de 2017

In the Winter

There was a silence in the world;
At the behest of darkness came light,
At the brink of destruction came the bold,
There, where there was only wrong, came the right
To save the innocent from the demons.

Dead and wicked things stir in the wild
Upon where plays a simple child,
She runs and laughs and enjoys the simple life
Letting all dark things out of sight.

Crawling spiders and flying ladybugs,
Howling wolves and loose grubs,
All those around her flourish,
All of them with her child play relish.

But all living things have dead shadows,
Unkempt, never resting, all of them have sorrows
That keep them coming back from the grounds
And haunt all those who step their mounds.

This girl dare play in the dark of the forest
Unknowingly of the wrongs there lay to rest,
Unforgiving of all they deemed trespassers
And would drag down all of those who were offenders.

Such they considered this wild little girl,
So naive, playfully dancing around in a whirl,
Quickly their hands grasped to drag her down,
A scream from her mouth arose and, suddenly, no sound.

A child was lost in the high dirt
To all but to the all seeing bird,
For, you see, high is a place where only eagles dare,
And all this aggression they saw from up there.

Wolves and owls heard the shrilling scream,
Beavers, bats, even snakes found this judgement mean
And quickly set to move and save
The infant from an early grave.

Wolves dug the earth, snakes scouted the dark,
Owls quickly called the dogs who set out to bark
To bring the elders swiftly to the location,
To find the girl and bring her salvation.

Early morning came with men with torches and shovels
Ready and steady to drive the tormented back to their level,
For Hell has seven circles and all of those swarmed,
And this little girl, belonging to none, could not be harmed.

Morning sun came with morning dew
Came with an alliance of men and animal and rescue true,
That a child innocent would remain
But mindful of all the care that she should maintain.

Thankful for the sun was she for it shined
Thankful for the elders she was for the time they arrived,
Thankful she grew for the animals who saved her with mind as their tool,
But above all thankful for Mother Nature for alive and ready was she for this Yule.

terça-feira, 12 de dezembro de 2017


Why would you leave? The hearth is lit, the shadows dance over our feet as we hold each other closely, taking in the heat, protecting us from the humid cold of the winter night outside. It has come sooner this year. But regardless we have the sheets to warm us, the body heat to keep us together, the silence to communicate, only words to tear us apart. Why then would you leave? You could stay and enjoy the winter, see the leaves fallen and the trees naked. To just be, just exist, just breathe in my bed, let me see your skin shine under the light of the fire, allow me to relish your presence. You've been gone too much and I now know not what to think. My room feels like a grave of memories of the times you've spent here. I was able to look at you then, to admire your beauty, wonder what it was that brought you to me. But you've been gone for too much time now and I wonder what you think. Please tell me you're lost, shout so I can hear you, I'll come and get you.
You see, lately I've been burning. The colder it gets the warmer I get. My rage acts up, but this cold weather envelops me, gathers my attention and directs me to the early night to find peace. Lately I've been wanted. But I'm still waiting. Maybe I'm wrong but I'm just holding on until you come back again. This is survival for me. But surviving isn't much. Even knowing it's not the same to you as it is to me, even knowing I'm probably holding on to something that isn't there, I just remember your smile much too fondly to fall out now. I keep holding on to see you again, kiss you, watch your hips dance at my touch. This isn't living, it's barely breathing, but it's my way to believe that something in you will change. Maybe then you'll stay. I'll keep the fire burning.

segunda-feira, 2 de outubro de 2017

De ninguém

Voltarei para perto de ti já, linda que não é de ninguém,
Tu que me prestas abrigo do frio e vento lá fora,
Tu que me seguras a mão quando nos deitamos a ver estrelas.
Venho de casa deserta, deserto de afeição,
A relembrar da tenebrosa solidão,
Sem conseguir esquecer que um dia soube lidar com ela.
Mas de ti me lembro quando ando ao relento
E das noites que passámos juntos ainda relembro
Do quente do teu corpo, do suave da tua pele, da tua companhia.
Nem tudo é físico, nem tudo é sexo, há amor por explorar,
Se lutares por ti lutar por novamente amar,
Há tempo para perder, o passado é para esquecer.
Sinto química no entrelace das mãos
E em todos os suspiros vãos,
Mas de ninguém és, de ninguém preferes ser.

The Dead Weather - Will There Be Enough Water

segunda-feira, 10 de julho de 2017


I tried. I goddamn tried. I still try. Every single try. To be more, to do more, to show more strength. I know I have it in me. 
I bow my head, stare at the rocks under my feet arch my shoulders, but still something pulls my head high, makes me look up, straighten up. You can bow me, but you can't defeat me. 
The pain is here. It'll stay but I'm not dearly cursed as to let myself be defeated. I am strong. I have rage. I have will. I will overcome. Even if it takes all parts of me, I'll be able to look up and smile. I'll be happy again. I'll be able to rest again. The nightmares will stop and I'll live.

terça-feira, 27 de junho de 2017

Head Up

I think it's time to start something new. Time to make fresh what came to be old. The bleeding is done, the wording takes form. Stop and breathe. Alcohol is here to stay, to dance and play, not to drain or lead me astray. It's no longer a poison running through my veins. It's no longer a fuel that ignites the vainly passionate in me. It's an absent friend and for such I have no time. Just keep passing by, I'll look up, to the sky, to the clouds, to the stars.
Long enough have I lived in the past, given much power to those who left scars. Many times have I said that those were battle scars, remembrance that I've survived. But now I know, surviving isn't living. As long as I draw breath I'll keep searching a way to live again. I've contemplated such a life before, even if shortly, and I've known its taste. I was drenched in it, swallowed by it, like somehow drawn into the fantasy written in words in pages of a book. I've come to wake up in cold sweats again, remembering what it has been so that I may once again smile, so that I don't feel so lonely. Such is an occasional feature. Passes me by quickly. For now I see the colour of the skies and the grass, now I feel the cool wind and that makes me open my eyes, open my arms, guard my soul but live with it.
I'm in pain. I've been in pain before, I remember the feeling. I don't know it's the same wound, if it close and is another scar or if it was just numb, but for some time I didn't feel it. It has came up. But, unlike the last time, I haven't used anaesthesia. This time I'm fighting it. Shutting my eyes and trying to sleep a peaceful night again, this time by myself. I'm lonely but I'm not dead. I've come to my senses and some temporary feeling won't keep me from smiling. One day it'll be natural.

Elton John - Rocket Man


We disturbed the skies. We corrupted the seas. We destroyed everything that meant anything to us. We built walls to protect ourselves from the raging seas, we hid the trees and plants, we let the world rot while finding a corner for ourselves. We protected nothing. The hills, the mountains, all that shaped the round earth, were left on the other side of the walls. All was grey there. Here all is green and brown. A reshaped society.

Fuck the Utopia. It's an outdated book. It didn't carry the weight of human responsibility in degrading Nature, in over using Its resources, in killing it. Back then men could travel the seas and explore new land. Wasted earth is all we left behind. I walk amongst them. These rotten, hypocritical people. I see their sly smiles, their ever observant eyes, their words full of lies. They have no life. Only a past. A guilty past that they cast away for they don't want to shoulder the weight of their ancestors mistakes. I walk past them. I climb the walls. Huge concrete walls that just barely touch the sky. I stand above them all. I take a step forward, ready to j-

Gojira - Global Warming 

terça-feira, 28 de fevereiro de 2017

Thank you for the mistakes - from now on I'll call them experiences.

The White Stripes - Jolene