Traveller

Marauder, you lost wanderer, the last of the adventurers, the world gave it all to you to find yourself and you wallowed in self-pity. Merciful fate, the one that brought you here, meaningful intent, your desire to find what your eyes distort and your soul denies. Find the passage through, you to you, amidst the ashes of the Sun, in this deserted land, polluted by sin, the skies torn and yellow, the land grey and old, empty. Traveller, found that this earth was a lie, awakened assassin, you target yourself for the living are now dead and wonder endlessly the streets, trying to find hope in the empty eyes of another.
Bleak future, you brought this curse upon this being. Got rid of his demons, put in the execution line before shame, persecuted by guilt. You we're no one to tell him to live here, to breath this, to evolve alone into is solitude and madness. Recovering all, re-building all, claiming himself as the god of this world, demanding blood to be sacrificed in the altar of eminent insanity. Forcibly re-writing something from the start, not quite sure of what his invention would be. Drowning in sorrow, poor soul, found a heart and gave it a try, ending losing all. To all the risks that he never had the courage to take, he gathered his belongings and roamed the seas, awaiting for closure or death.
Let it be known that time moved on, the lands were one again, the land was green, a peaceful pasture where his naked feet moved amazed at the beauty of the his world. His mind travelled away, forgot space, forgot banishment, forgot all that lost in the explosion of the Sun, he found himself in the reflection of a transparent lake. And there he fell in love, with Nature in it's full splendour. Moved on, created life within life and evolved into a complete and happy man, mere human, mere mortal but with a moral of a god.

Highlands

Senseless courage, this heart that yearns for the change and the body that charges in the battlefield for freedom. At the sound of rain drops, the horses breath the humid atmosphere and the people of this lands begin to feel the winds changing, their luck fading. When hope was a bottle of dirty water deep down in the well, there a hero comes disguise as a mere human, mortal and weak. He took the hearts of the people with a speech of rebelion and the eyes of fury. The sword fused with his body and there he left the village along the men to conquer their own rightful place in the world, lost a long time ago, given from cowards to swines. And there he yield the sword, up and towards the sky, no Sun to make her shine but with the bravery of a nation in his soul.
Bloody temper charged against their wooden walls, conquering and slaughtering, sending a message to a foul king, that a nation is not a nation without a a sword, a heart and a soul to command it. His words roared far beyond the realms of thievery and lies and fear took over the hearts of those who would betray him once again. City after city, lord after lord, they all fell after they saw the eyes of victory enraged against them. And with a last whisper they regretted the day they sold they souls for a piece of land that would kill them. Then the sword went through their bodies and a yell of victory reached the shores of the sacred lake, where the magical beast was awakened to help her nation in need.
Fate came at the speed of the night in this cursed land. The hero had gone out of battle, he found the love bigger than what he fought for. In his bed rested the roses of a time of peace, his army commanded by another man. Her hands calmly and gently passing through his body, their souls consuming the love for each other, their bodies building and controlling the heat of the night, under a naked moon and the stars as guides to safety. The wind whispered only in the corners of imagination and the hero rested a calm night in a life of war.
Soon the day came and his head was asked in every village. The world had turned against him, all those who cheered for him once had betrayed him and tried to capture him. His love had gone to the land of the ghost, he was alone in the coldness. In the middle of so much anger and fear, he lost the battle and went prisoner to the king. His eyes cried a soul that lost it's hope once again and he screamed at the skies as he watched his love asking him to return to her, "FREEDOM". His head rolled to the ground and his life was gone. Man would come to continue and end his work but for now his body was torn apart and sent to the corners of England, order of the sadistic king of a nation who slaved those equal to them. His legend lived on. May his spirit roam in freedom and love to find a more just life and kingdom to call his own. In your honour, William Wallace.

Along our pathway

Chapter one: I move as the blood circles my body. Insignificant schemes to take over my mind and soul, distractions from the normal day, the afternoon where I gaze the winter coming but I face it with no fear in me. No dark clouds to drive me away, no rain to wash over my tears, I'll find happiness in your arms, in your warmth, by the light of the fire, by your gentle lips when we kiss in the cold nights. You will lead me on, tell me lies and I will stay here, for you and for me.
Chapter two: Late December brings the awakening of the dead, we celebrate those who had fooled us then and continue to face us as fools now. Resurrected murderer, injustice brought by the hands of despair, for a change, for a fake peace to be used as an excuse for war. The air contaminated by their sins and still we lay down, our families long gone, our children long to be born. The doubts contaminate the truth of your thoughts but quietly I'll let you down to sleep, tomorrow we'll bring the snow and people shall see the truth that hides behind their reflection.
Chapter three: The delight in our smile to see the world crumble, all those years mistaken by an illusionist, we continue our journey, the world is just to big to be still and regret. Exploration caused by the grand desire of finding what as been long lost or what the human eye and truth cannot see. Forbidden realm, let us in your lust and complete trust, we shall not speak of the world outside. Unforgiving and unfair, grey as the volcanic snow that passes through my hands in this moment. My love, I will forgive thee, for thee shall cause me no more harm, I see the Summer now, the green pastures that I long awaited, our family and friends that we buried with our own hands, our children, happily playing with the flowers that bloom at the sound of music.
Chapter four: Cursed fate, you've forbidden us to ever see you again. We are blind to the ways of your people, we can only trust our animal instinct, our rational side was killed along with our emotion when we stepped on the boat and left to find home. Mourning the tears of another, we pass through a funeral where no one we knew had died and the world cried with us. We've left our anger fill our hearts, we've been nominated out-casters, today we failed with our own hands to drown even more into the Earth after he wake of our sorrows. We've been forgiven and lost, now we are blind and hopeless. For our kingdom not be, no blood is spilled and no castle is build, we seize to exist and let our lifes behind. Love, I have failed thee, forgive me for I cannot find that beauty in this world that you so much wanted me to see. Believe me when I say, I bury you with the most deep regret of loving you and yet not have died for what you believed. You have lived your life for me, I long for the next life to compensate and live for you.
Chapter five: I lost my existence, I wallow now in shame. Ethereal love of the one's who follow, you will see the passage to Summerland, you will write how you failed to live your fate. Find happiness in your simple life, regret not being still but to search for what has been in your side all your life. Lose all to find nothing, to not look at your past and see failure, seek the future and treasure it for what is lost was meant to be lost, what is to be found will be found in time, for you, by you, by anyone else but always written in the folklore stories which our ears listen but our hearts do not comprehend.
Chapter six: I mourn now again, not myself, not at my wake, but my life. The one I had and parted long ago. Will you take my soul or will just let me go? We'll meet in the next life, children of Summer, we'll long for the Fall to see our children tall, we'll conquer Winter and see ourselves even stronger and we'll find Spring attached to Summerland where my soul lingers, awaiting your divine touch again, Dana.

Land of bliss

Something in the air that tells me that you need me, something vanishing, something looking for home. Eternal closure upon the little human that dreamt of something more, never to find the darkness to assure him of his path nor the light to blind him safely into ethereal bliss. A cold night to heal his severed heart, a warm day to bring him back, to realise that green pastures are a pathway to the real dream. Unfair the life of another that passes by, you reach out a hand but you're held back by your own luck, afraid to bring prejudice and sorrow to your youth. And endlessly you run, seeking the freedom of a butterfly in the treasonous night. You've became the prey, nothing more to say, a silence corrupted by the fear of being, of living, of seeing the light of day. Shall the wounds heal? Will the wolves cry? And the sky brakes in two upon the arrival of rain, announcing the unforgiving winter. Feel the cold rush through your veins, rationality turns into animal instinct, you hunt and still there you do not succeed.
Scarlet life of another betrayal. The arrival of rain brought a new chapter of life. Borrow the soul of another, steal another person's happiness, beg for mercy in the face of Dana in the Summerland, you belong to the folk songs in the villages where people chose life and wine before money and swines. The curves that you swallow, the shadows you endure, the fly of the crows that rewind and take control of the wind take your smile away. Why and why do you bring the rain and the storm, the blood and the sour hearts to an empty table? Try to content and live with yourself, if you can't take the vanity, end your life. Your blood-filled life can't take more of the cuts that you bring upon yourself, your words are lies told to the lord of flies that escaped from Hell to see you commit suicide. Dare not touch his weakness, you shall pay life with life, lie with lie, naked words of truth and freedom for your soul. And ignorance will hunt your life, you won't reach happiness, all your life a complete void, demons will see to it. Adamant will conquer and destroy, the snake on your shoulder and not in your arm, they choke the blood out of you. And realise, it's time for a flower to bloom when you meet your doom.
The body reaches land, the speech is weak and meaningless, the greed took him too far, only vultures and vampires attend his wake. A walk of life between his human life and his pact with Satan is remembered and rejoiced by those who are to bring his rotten soul to Hell. Like the sound of glass, the flowers fill the ground and bloom, blessed doom of another fool. The eerie circles above the water come in the colours of Summerland, a vanishing existence never was celebrated before but the fall of another tyrant is always something to celebrate. Drink the wine, souls of mortals. You lose all the control, you never wanted the power, be corrupted by it, you've seen it all before. And the shape of the Earth reminds you that this life is a circle, many other came before you and many will come, tyrants rising above the clouds to destroy, plunder. You've seen it all before, you learned your lesson without a tear or blood to shed. Curiosity is mere causality in this land, happiness is bliss and everything sacred is what cannot be stolen. No false security, nothing to fall to, no false feelings to be pronounced. In this land, the bliss is given freely at birth and complete happiness to all.

Reino conquistado

As crianças que dormem,
Enquanto a sua mãe morre,
A inocência para ser julgada,
Enquanto eles não choram pelo sangue derramado.

As verdades que os ventos levem,
Lá fora o silêncio dorme,
A sua ignorância abandonada,
O seu reino prematuramente derrubado.

Certo dia descobriram a traição,
O amor de mãe deixou de ter significado,
Levaram a faca ao seu coração,
E o seu lugar como reis conquistado.

O seu hino cria medo na sua povoação,
Continuamente descontinuado,
Agora enraivecido, ele responde à sua provocação,
O filho caminha agora abandonado.

Sozinho por florestas que desconhece,
O frio e medo conquistam quando escurece,
O seu coração prematuramente atraiçoado,
Pela sua vontade de um reino conquistado.

Progress to the Heir

Her heart, a block of ice. In her purse, a dagger to fulfil the rawest desire. Her innocence, taken so long ago. In an angry heart, a rotten soul, the lack of judgement, to steal the life of another by an act of selfishness and pure human thought. No more feelings to be considered, no more doubts to brings us to endless bliss, her pain brought in a night where despair would give in to silence.
The alley was silent, the night was quiet, no cat would betray their shadow beneath such a weeping Moon. Her dress would dance to the sound of the wind, the girl would jump in an adorable bliss. Such were the ways of the old days, no tree or building could tell it in any other way. She walked, ignoring every alley, every sound, she knew her way home. She walked, almost endlessly, in such an ease, maybe sloth had taken over her, maybe she had the most relaxing day in her young life. Little she knew, her road was of decadence, her sin about to commit itself against her own will. But her strength was too little, she was an innocent girl, couldn't fight against such evil forms and desires. She had gone into the shadow, betrayed by her own ways. Forgive her...
The morning came like no other but her sleep was much too painful. Had weeks gone by, months in sheer terror spent in her bedroom, what was she to do. The images in her nightmares were recurrent, she couldn't forget those eyes, forgive those hands that so hardly made her bend, erase the blood shed. The memory was corrupted, the child was no longer young, the world wasn't a fair friend, the night would bring her sleepless torture. She had to go, she moved on to her fate, unwillingly meeting her future husband, he who was to receive her in the most kind neglect. She didn't believed in love, she lost her ideas of romanticism and fantasies about princes. She would resign to live a life of solitude and silence. Her eyes told the pain but the words couldn't come out. He was in the living room, the eyes of her nightmares, the hands of her despair, her lost virtue, bliss and innocent in his smile. And she heard on what he was to gain with her. Couldn't forgive him...
He so kindly took her hand, whispered a few words of compliment and moved on. She was a tool, he was a martyr, such a virtuous boy who no one but her knew of his dirty, evil secret. She started to cry, couldn't take any more, she fell on the floor and, has the light started to vanish from her eyes, she begged... for death. She woke up in her bed, alone, at night. No dreams in this sleep, no new life in front of her. She had woke up and continued her old life. More of the old and the words still wouldn't come out. Injustice, such a martyr to be told but her pain to be married. She had lost everything and when she thought that it was the end, there he stood, tall, happy, a liar and a thief that only her could see. Has if any hope she still had after that night, he took it all out again to end her miserable life with a ring. No soul, no possessions, no feelings. Only revenge. She travelled with a dagger in her purse from that they onward. Her kind husband would know her truth in the end, even if it meant to lose the title of Heir of the Throne.

Não consigo dormir. Deixei-me apaixonar pelo demónio no corpo de uma mulher. Não é que lhe tenha muito de beleza, a inteligência ainda é o que a safa mas é mesmo a maneira como ela me atura e fica comigo. Quando os tempos estão difíceis, elas faz-los mais difíceis e parece que tudo o resto fica mais fácil. Nos tempos fáceis, ela mantém-me alerta para as dificuldades que a vida ainda tem a oferecer. Há que relembrar que não digo isto muita vez, é-me impossível exprimir emoções com alguma realidade misturada, mas deixei-me mesmo cair. A minha rede de segurança tinha um buraco por onde ela passou. Ela já me viu todas as metades. Já me viu a chorar numa perfeita noite de decadência, já viu o meu lado lamechas porque lê tudo que por aqui passa, tem uma experiência do meu lado mau, insensível, frio e mais real todos os dias, quando falo com ela e já me viu indiferente ao mundo, à sua presença, à sua existência, até aos seus amigos. Divago pelas razões que me fazem escrever isto, se ela vai perceber que é para ela, se sou algum hipócrita por ainda há alguns dias atrás dizer a outra pessoa que gostava dessa pessoa. Divago ainda, com toda a razão, se isto é real e se tudo o que eu sinto não é apenas carência. Apenas uma coisa não divago, seria impossível fazê-la sentir. Nem mesmo agarrando numa montanha e colocando-a por cima dela e ameaça-la de que deixamos a montanha cair. Não estou a tentar movê-la da sua fortaleza de solidão, apenas quero encontrar uma fórmula "sagrada" para a verdade da confusão na minha cabeça. E então o tempo passa, as palavras são ditas, a verdade escapa ao segundo e não há muito mais que possa fazer ou dizer, não tenho sequer vontade de a ter. Se há conclusão para tudo isto? Não, nem por isso.

Já não sei porque escrevo. Aqui ou em qualquer outro sítio. Não tem objectivo, óbvio que me falta o sentimento. As palavras muitas vezes teimam em aparecer. E acima de tudo, aqui reina a ignorância. De um pouco de tudo. Também a preguiça de procurar, a inércia continua a vencer a batalha do dia-a-dia. Vou-me deixando ficar para trás, não há muito mais a fazer. Os minutos que passam, diariamente, repetidamente, vão-me levando à loucura pouco a pouco. A repetição da contagem faz-me desistir, parece tudo um espelho do que já aconteceu. E por tal prendo-me em casa, escondo-me por trás das paredes, para evitar os olhares, para fazer o que é real em mim resistir ao impulso de deixar de existir. Em silêncio aguardo o calor dos ventos do Verão.

Aquele que põe obstáculos à sua interacção com qualquer outro ser vivo está a pôr obstáculos entre si e a sua própria existência, assim como entre si e a sua felicidade

Sinceramente, Bruno

Definitivamente não era o que queria fazer. Pelo menos já tenho algo novo sobre o que escrever. A vez em que falhei, que não aguentei, a pressão esgotou-me a energia e a minha resistência cedeu. Pensei que me ia sentir melhor, que isto me ia aliviar de alguma forma e permitir-me seguir em frente. Por momentos resultou. Mas fi-la chorar outra vez, tal como originalmente pensei que ia fazer. Nunca pensei que fosse tão afectado por alguém, nem que lhe faria tanto mal simplesmente dizendo que não consegui seguir em frente como normalmente sigo. Mas tenho consciência. Acima de tudo de que sou uma má pessoa, com gosto, e de que só consigo seguir em frente se conseguir tratar-la mal, responder-lhe sarcasticamente. Aí sei que voltei à minha normalidade e que segui em frente. Por enquanto acho que me vou resumir a tentar evitar-la, a viver o que vivi, da forma que o vivi. E talvez, quem sabe, recuperar aquela minha vontade de me divertir, fazer o que é suposto fazer com a minha idade, sair todas as semanas, beber uns copos, conhecer umas miúdas necessitadas de carinho e aproveitar-me delas. Perspectivas de um 2010 com um início nada risonho.

1 ano depois, podes dizer-me, estou igual...