Mourning

Bloated on the words we wont tell
but we dont know how the feelings spell
i seemed to have gone down this road before
but this time i just cant take anymore

Sing to me! Sing your lovely lulaby
Train my eyes to learn to say goodbye

We get this feeling from time to time
on account of the memories gone by
and the filters to make us all rhyme
but somethings and no one can deny

Sing to me! Sing your lovely lulaby
Train my eyes to learn to say goodbye

I just feel so numb to the world so dumb
can i take a look around before i start to drown
I keep singing with my eye closed

Life and death are eternal in cosmos
thus i gift you a spiritless rose
to illustrate that our affection arose
as decay in mortis makes life engross.

May that rose sustain life and wither
side by side, adding to our growing endurance
in these lofty cages with no gate keeper
i will adore shadowing your essences semblance

devoided

why must we part ways
when the feeling resides,stays
i acknowledge we're both meant to grow
but time flies by, and it also flows slow

Fehkaktas

A foul smell permeates, it stinks of sorrow and death
all vacate this insurgent area to flee from the mist
the surrounding greenery presents itself in grey
as if time is frozen, no droplets fall no birds chirp.

This scene completely unfolds as I walk by...
all man made structures, as if melting, adopt a
goldish-brown color...
and then i see it....i dont know why but it is IT.

 A pillory, 4m high painted in dark crimson
marked with engravings to which the eye cannot perceive
at its top a seemingly grand bird cage lies
big enough to fit 2 or 3 people easily
this cage is colored from the emptiest and darkest
black there is, a block hole look alike so to speak.

As i draw closer and upon further inspection
its is clearly visible dat the cage remains
nonchalantly open and a bird by the same color as
the cage there remains.

Sensing the skulking in a instinct like move
it turns its head to face me revealing 2 very large
bulging fiery red eyes
it is at this moment that i realize, that this fog,
these buildings, this grass, this cage are all
my creation and i am the bird...
as ive ventured out but
relentlessly came back to my opened door prison

U can not free what was never shackled

yokai ilusions

with some keystrokes---
 closed heart holes.
amidst ignorance and viral vanity,
droplets of warm blood supposedly
circulate in these dormant souls ---

why do u keep - muddling - my senses
this -constant -binding- choke- hold
doesn't let our essences feel whole
making me irrational- at no expenses-

is this -a fleeting 3D - illusion?
in my head - just a protrusion?

i am a trough bearer of nonsense - for in this world,- reality-
 is not what you perceive with your five senses,
its what your allowed to perceive from others.

not, give and receive?
but let give and may you yet receive?

Haradatashī kitsune

Relentless your fear wove a cloaked timeline...
in which your features infatuate me wholeheartedly
a freak on a leash, drawn by smell so otherworldly;
yet kept at bay, successive tug and pull but on my lane
the rope wont break, no alter meaning no fate
this semblance is not up for debate
my pain and love will no abate

Ill be the the ying to your yang
the oxygen to each lung
the bass in ur life's rhythm
i just need u to solve my head's algorithm

Words

Once its spoken and after its heard
Once its typed and after its red
they seem harmless as wind
but can leave a ruckus in the mind.

Though it might seem obvious we all regret them,
think of any place in time, before paper and pen
what i spoke will be misunderstood
the remorse wont be withstood.

we are afraid, coward and resentful, regretful to move forward
ask not forgiveness, practice it don't let others feel that sword
the aging face, tear drop, hollow scream, chilly back prick
are markers of how they make us feel, assembled in brick;

Bring the down the all! Let the actions speak louder!

ask porter

Where are u now?

 so yet again i turn to words,...what seems  u can not receive... 

deeply ....immensely profound is what i felt feel and keep feeling for,...you hid your intentions, and projected your misconceptions... time wasnt of the essence, cause i was offering u my time, my life.

what i entrusted you with wasnt simply what u could fathom with ur seemingly narrow view, i dare not say if  u are more afraid of falling on the abyss than to reach the other side.

mistrusted or misjudged,...i never would never partake judging ur mistakes, ur errors...you would clutch on to mine to make me enclosed,....did i mind? i wanted to be smothered by you...

i just begged you for time,...as drops that swindled from a ever melting iceberg, with ur mudded and faulty judgment u spewed words of barricade and trenches, freezing me more sub zero with time

 its as if u hid in a battlefield in which i wanted ur warmth and u wanted to run,..run u did unbeknownst to my awareness, i before lacked on how to love, i was beginning to be thought by you, as of now im incapble of adoring and am also incapable of closure ..... i am still unaware of the why, but im hopeful of the when....
 ill never stop trying to reach u
as long as we both draw a breath from our shells may we meet,...
sincerely eagerly waiting to be yours

heist

I am not a machine not a robot,
u wove a spell, im not under lock
i see your feeders all day, in spite
my smile and patience u receive.
Endurance and patience despite
i still stand alone i believe?

just when i think im set, i see her

Agrides o meu tico, aniquilas o meu teco
és me uma devassa, sou te um badameco.
Do pescoço a boca, assim te remeto

com um olhar casto, és o caminho predilecto.

Adversa ao avanço, jogas na retranca
não tens fechadura, mas sim cadeado arrombado

Ludicrous

Cause it never stops, the screaming inside my head
Cause it never ends, echoing throughout my guts
conscious still drops, can i live inside that egg?
growing more fends in my skull, becoming nuts.

Limbo

Atitudes e morais recessivas
nestas palavras escondo que não esqueço

as facadas e adagas consecutivas,

ecos, gestos e protestos de arremesso.

Deambulando na marca de explosão

como um díodo, dínamo, absorvo

 as cicatrizes que não tem contenção

a mascara não cai, por ser um corvo

com sorriso de hiena, sempre opaco
não sou de vingança nem esperança

tempo urge, eu sobrevivo sem dar cavaco

resido entre a tempestade a a bonança.

Inverno

De humildade e frio nos dedos,
se faz olhar feroz e petrificado,
o sopro das assombrações é gélido
e temeroso criador de medos.

No firmamento uma escala de cinzento
sombras pálidas, dia obscuro
camadas e decoração de estilo opulento
uma índole quente, eu procuro

Sedutora

You love night and shade
your beauty isnt man-made
presented as god's bait
become sin number eight

para que aprenderem a primitivar
se não sabem o que é avançar(???)
da realidade percebem pevide
a anti comparencia como disse sam the kid

Compressed Maze

It has dim light
its something i cannot fase

Bashful Riots

Inhabitants of couches, bearers of nonsense
always being cooped up in trifle matters
we soak ourselves full of pretense
erratic, thought process often scatters.

Yet we are anxious and apprehensive,
what was once fangs is now our ego
a protection to use on the offensive
for footlights, or to remain incognito.

Oxymoron based creatures
a limited infinite of clearly misunderstood
happenings we live as vultures
of bashful riots.

Lombada

Julgar um livro pela capa é uma maldição que não se restringiu aos livros.....

 É ser o lápis azul em brilhantes epopeias, é não ter o discernimento entre um livro de um capitulo e uma série. Descurar um dicionário ou uma enciclopédia cheios de sapiência, a troco de publicações de estética apelativa.

Devemos agradecer pelas estantes cheias de livros preservados na sua intemporal espera? ou lamentar por estas narrativas ecossistémicas que esperam os olhos inquisidores dos seus leitores ausentes. Falamos de livros? de pessoas ? de animais até?
Ou talvez não falemos, daí "andarmos aos cucos" porque há livros com um recibo de compra velho, mas com uma lombada por quebrar.

Reflexos ciclicos

Uma posição irrequieta, uma vontade incongruente
a minha mente é um lugar deveras inconstante
Enquanto respiro, sou humano, defeituoso
nervoso por nada, ridículo por tudo, impetuoso.
Partir do nada, em busca do que não existe
ou estender-me ao céu para poder doar
ao meu receptáculo o que ainda persiste
de teimas e tramoias, sobre pedras ou ar.
Sou devoluto de sapiência, constituído apenas
por uma vontade de olhar, sentir e conhecer,
incauto remeto-me sob um vento de espairecer
em que quero as minhas vidas e chacinas, nesta constante deformação reformista.