Ancestral Blood
Almond Cut Eye
Nitroglicerin enthralling the burst into life
Completely out of the reach of the ordinary
Emotions that never cease to bleed out
Spilling their heartfelt tongues on the ark of craft
Tyrants under their pillows resting their guns
Resting their powered-motion to fight games of times forgotten with thrones
Aware of becoming a target as they targeted well
Living creatures with blood and tears to share for a chance at living.
Blinking eyes, with rapid lashes a wave,
Love rests on the single bed, pillow soaked in tears of an angel
Offering you a pleasant memory for the en-core of a last time;
Over the grounds of your salvation you shed down your past cries out to be
Devoured in the desperate gasps of that love you could have had...
Dei DisChord
Deities guiding their rivers of pain, our rivers of shame
Not to be ashamed with
For they have loved and they have died and killed for their love,
For their heart and soul
Under attack: a find of justice and mercy and healthy pride.
It’s all written down on your skin in ink of a pride broken
Giving you the movement you need to build and rebel, to fight and know well
The blazing treasure of the heart that mend and killed
For the pleasures of innocent guilt,
Blood spilling remorse and shame and lack of a poverty you admired as hell,
Hell was working for us, hell was working for you, hell was working
Like Doctor Jeckil l and Mr Hide, a hit
In Hyde and seek plays of a Jack Kill.
*”to the poor dead who didn’t have it all, they had it all...”
Soul CruSH
Sunsets come out of a shrilL
Hovering o’ sepals above a halO
Out looking for butsU
United skies with louD
Territories holding handS
We create our apologies every day
With every moment of a thought given,
Taken an idea and moved forward
For the sake of multiplication
Of our dearest instances!”
This is a collection of poetry and thoughts gathered in certain arrangements with different meanings; my purposes and the personal significance behind don’t have to be your own choice. I merely offer a perspective on these matters of encounters with the self, explorations of soul matters and needs of spiritual kind that reflects into obedience and rebellion of the flesh. Each reader has a mind of their own and a set of knowledge that may help them see things in their gifted fashion and grace.
The make-believe
The skies hold the please of a star,
The mountains of surreal clouds
Painted by the hands of a child
Sweet innocence and light
Under the canopy of which
The Shadows with their takers make believe.
Cosmic DNA
I have become a nobody
And that is not a shame,
That is an opportunity,
My opportunity to leave behind all the pain,
Rid myself of the burden or learn how to carry the load
With the ease of photons gliding on the rods of solar loom,
Explosions having sunlight pass through thick air,
Hit grounds and products of their existence-manifests,
Cast Shadows over surfaces exposed, Surf with the aliens, walk with the man,
With the moon and stars and planets a movement
Spiralling to expand the sheet of paper that’s a Universe asking to collide, intersect, take a glance at...
A parellel...
Our
Cosmic DNA
Contents
You were getting on my nerves (short version)
Well Meant _Heart mend (short version)
Arromercyfaithfulhardsoulselfia
Sorrow ass shaking and shaking
Shadows that can’t feel anymore
Blue the playful heart of stone
A laughter that means his endless cry (Ist version)
To the eyes that see... (Ist version)
Come now, End those Tears (You are an Angel)
Fa Si La - LockDown Memories _ I
You...! I hope you’ve got your password
The Lovely short but rich poem!
Cut! (this can get much better!)
Rear gear mirror reflection (Core I)
Rrriiing - Hello... - Just... Nothing
Active in the Bliss of our dreams
What famished souls can feed upon
Sparkling Hell party (II-nd version)
Well Meant _Heart mend (Full-version)
A laughter that means his endless cry
God
How much we can suffer for our souls!
It’s a soul take, soul give...
Maybe God can bless...
And maybe what we do is what will matter in the end.
In this house surprise
Of Sin and Sinners we have heard
It’s tired-some as sin is everything today...
I wish my heart and life quite clean.
I’m tired.
If you’re not cheating, lying well,
If you don’t go for what they stand
Too proud for...
‘Have tried, you know...
Now I can’t stand this anymore.
As they would
Then they wouldn’t do
What they are asking
Coming through
In ways you can accept
Then be
Upset and vexed,
Just how I’ d be.
But still, they would
Look for a way,
If you don’t take the examples there,
The best ones out there
For which you can stand
Too proud for...
I can stand proud for...
Alone
Together dreaming well,
A hide and seek play
Left in times that were
Forgettable...
Then war was on!
Of Sin and Sinners we have heard
I’m wasted, blighted heart and soul
Embracing ruins of the world you sacrificed us for
And cry for acts of love and hate,
Revenge and luminous embrace of peace,
Enjoy a time you left behind
Into the dark, into the light, into the passing grey
as sin is everything today...
I wish my heart and life quite clean
Of dirt that cannot sin, dirt cannot sin just right,
right, right...
holy this life!
Holy the life of sinners...
It’s getting tiresome.
And I tricked myself into being too grateful
for what set a belief and a wonder in my I...
Plato Tribe
It cleaves the heart
And tares the flesh apart, off bones soft splinters of lascerating joy,
This pleasure take engaging me into romantic current takes!
I sit, long watch into our heroes work,
Like Plato exploring the infinite of the unreachable,
And with myself a letter all alone is surfing
on waves of hissing farewell sea-words,
Sacred flesh, dry spoken a word lift
For blood spills all over the carpets and floors we simply adored...
“Ah, women! Will never try to be ignored
A taste anew in wonder!”
Tortured by need of thirsty grounds and famished brain cravings,
He wastes no time with enemies and friends he doesn’t know
But too weak to follow his enchanted rendering
Of tribes from which he takes the wit and wisdom looms.
“Haven’t I lost my soul already?
For you and your kind, my kind suffered well,
To be alive and take the chance at weaving
A coating whisper of tomorrow’s endings.”
Lost in a contemplation of pasts glorious,
Growing with day to day awareness in times present,
I gaze into the night of grounds I left for fantasies,
Looking the truth in his eyes: a multitude of sparkling Champagne wines
Expecting nothing but a smile... “Oh, I’ve done wrong, my child!”
Yet, truth feels tired with my lost desire to build homes,
“It’s only an illusion until it all becomes
Our new reality to take, embrace of part-takes...”
It doesn’t hurt the flesh when it’s just nothing,
It’s nothing but the light of knowledge, pure_
Only the beast is thirsty for a carnage, thirsty for a cry and gruesome kills
And I do seem to be the only one who’s trapped here,
Wasting away a fair future past to take into this present life to cherish,
Crying and hoping not, no more; I’m done with glaring into the maze of lost hopes
but I’m doing naught
While you go on minding your businesses.
(*a tribute brought to Plato as I was asking myself these other days _again?_ “Why would I want to live when death sounds so sweet and appealing?” _ “Oh, but what awaits in this silence, darling! What awaits was never more delightful to those who are still craving for a miracle...”)
Mosquito Salad (Ist version)
Good food for the brain,
Good food for the brain!
Little creatures looking for fun,
Mesmerized by the light,
Going for more and more at night,
It is always more than they can take
So they get either burned or temporarily crippled,
Turned into carcasses tattoos on our skins
Reflecting marvels of the universe in one drop of shameful defeat;
We show with merciless pride our kill and brag upon their death
Remembering to add a few words
To our mosquito salads.
K-Boom
I thought of killing you but then
I got distracted,
My missile redirected,
The bomb you’ve mistaken for my treasure chest
Going K-Boom on screens too many times,
Skeletons spread all around,
Past-time broken,
Heart-felt joke.
I got distracted
And couldn’t put an end to the whole world.
Then I tricked myself into believing
that you will be all too grateful for what I ...
(I am) Series I
I am too embarrassing for your might.
There‘s nothing to discuss with you.
Cleansing
I have poured rivers of tears,
and some miracles idea
To help me recover my faith...
But trust! Where to put it
With an interest pay doubled?
I have been putting back together
But evil and awfulness must go together
Just like love and hate,
Just like faith and the strong,
Faith and the bold,
Faith and the beautiful...
Just like... That!
TV shows:
For your filth I had to survive.
You will not love
And not because you’re ugly or too beautiful
But because the misery you made her out of...
Speaks Soap.
“The walking poems
preferred,
Each saying something.”
Origami Book
Tell me the story of that page you treasured more,
In that book of your life that didn’t mean but
A drop in the oceans of pages filled with words and tears,
What we used to call life,
Images to rest our souls with.
Tell me all that story of your youth, lost hours in words,
Feelings adorned with the explorations of shapes
Moving you on the abstract waves of games,
Thinking of that first page in the origamy-heart-book you designed
To impress a sad old child.
“As I wait for flowers to emerge,
out of the lovely piece of material imposed,
made of matters of importance,
Great
producers of laughter and tears...
I keep clowning.”
You may live
Out of my pride
I should be dead and working for the happily alive.
Don’t offer me your goods,
Stop telling me what to do,
I don’t want to live that normal life of yours,
Call it your sanity,
That’s you,
I am here to describe a moment or two,
Observed thousands of lives
For those who may...
They may...
And I just may...
You will never understand a heart too broken,
Too proud to live
A miserable thought or word
coming out of a mind that is too old
For that ink,
The Ink that loved and knew
no trauma.
“Chores need to be done,
Duty must be found
For material of basic importance
to be produced,
Dreams must be accomplished,
Comatted, loved and feared,
we defy laws and rules and the lack of it,
we embrace our own ways, as we like to think,
as we must be defying those who fight
Against our chosen existence.”
You were getting on my nerves (short version)
When the heart weeps
At the hour of tossed corpses into trunks,
Long drives to the ocean,
Clearing evidence,
Throwing bad memories into the lake next state,
Leaving the photograph I carried in my wallet somewhere in a cafe
(don’t worry, it was fancy, just like you)
...
Sorry, I had to kill you...
You were getting on my nerves.
“The inner stitches still hurt”...
War Field Frame
Atrocities
In times of war
We hunt and eat each other
Or fast and almost die of hunger,
We watch the ravens coming then
Tearing the flesh of carcasses,
Guiding the wolves and melting pain
Down with the blood
Atrocious sight
Painted.
Thank you.
Birds Timings
A bird, chewing gum
While fluttering wings of life
Spread over times bills
Can you imagine all the soap we need?
You and I
And I thought
But you thought first
Then I realised I thought best
In another life
Where I could find myself after some quest...
You didn’t!
No, you didn’t.
You didn’t make me feel embarrassed
With ‘my poor choices,
My little strength,
My little pesky sorrows,
Petty I am.
You didn’t!
No, you didn’t make me feel superior when I was only something I won’t name:
It is prohibited by my good common sense.
No, no, no.
You didn’t.
You didn’t make me feel embarrassed with getting born...
The story’s too long.
Let’s cut... You know...
No, no, no
You didn’ t make me feel upset with myself
And the whole world.
Oh, no, no,
You didn’t.
You didn’t.
You didn’t make me feel less than you need to be,
No, you didn’t.
Creators of something you must be...
Out of nothing the anger of the paradise you always lose
As your pride was greater.~
No, no, no.
I felt no embarrassment with your empowerment of others....
“Ta do shit! “
Please, look for the worthy,
I have nothing good for you.
“Oh, now you do remember me!”
Nothing but the impression of greatness to you.
No. You didn’t make me feel all too embarrassed compared to your chosen,
Chosen beloved, your wealthy doing great...
Only the very poor curse, the very poor for not being the elite.
I was too rich, now I was too poor... Perhaps now I know.
Only the very poor can make of the poor even poorer…
Help the cause of the devil...
Only the poor can make of a king a poor thing.
Teachers of today teaching others to stay poor, be poor and awful_nae.
Teachers teaching us lessons, great lessons...
On how to suffer and suffer and suffer to become just like them.
But are they just?
Teachers...
Teaching us a lesson, putting one there where they belong...
You didn’t!
No, you didn’t.
You didn’t make me feel embarrassed
With my poor choices,
My little strength,
My little pesky sorrows,
Petty I am.
Even, my choice to get out of the gutter and be okay was too poor.
Even my aspiration to real good,
Real beauty real love:
All petty and sorrowful,
Damnable a thing,
Something for you to kill...
It will kill... Don’t you worry.
My choices to fight: all too wrong for you.
My kindness, not mine.
My sorrow, not mine.
My everything not mine...
Nothing.... Mine, mine...
All of my choices so wrong...
So wrong that they were all right.
My aspiration to the good I want, I know I can be...
All Petty.
Oh, my poor choices, my poor wishes
Were too heavy for you
But it’s alright...
You’ll manage my ass goodbye.
It wasn’t too much for me too,
I didn’t feel all too embarrassed,
This world is too good to be true;
The fluke am I doing here?
“Exactly. Goddamn poor choice!”
No you didn’t make me feel okay! Their choice was losing me,
Making of me just another piece of a product I won’t name.
Whilst yours was to save...
I need my good common sense to be the Blame.
Oh, the honour!
I should feel great.
No, you didn’t make me feel embarrassed
with your choices for me...
You didn’t!
No, you didn’t make me feel superior when I was only something I won’t name:
It is prohibited by my good common sense.
No, no, no.
You didn’t.
You’ve chosen to lose me,
I chose to fight,
Feeling embarrassed that you had the strength to kill me,
Still for the best...
You didn’ t,
No, no, no.
You merciful creature!
Acceptable and to be appreciated
The many were perhaps too cruel.
Crude.
Only children see it as beautiful!
Only children can feel it this beautiful.
Because you didn’t ruin my life.
It’s probably this the answer,
their silent good filter off eyes,
One can scream and one can show,
And fingers can tell about a new flow
“What is the meaning of life and the purpose?
and why would I choose to live again?”
Fingers
What one can do?
Fist them and fight like a fool,
Fight like a gem, like a storm,
The cruel rose with thorns....
Show them!
Fight like a man,
Against a crime,
No crime divine;
I hope you can.
I can’t believe the man I sometimes am!
“If I’m not happy with you, guess what?
You won’t be happy with me.
So we both have to find our happiness...”
Looking back
Into a photograph I find
A memory I wouldn’t live again
But as a recomposition of my troubled broken self
(*The self centered series are always the most delightful)
The PB ode
If a pig said so I am going to commit suicide,
If a pig said so... I am going to end with my life
‘cause some pig said so
and a bitch arranged it all to happen!
Sure... If a pig and his bitch... Did and said so...
Everything for the pig and the bitch!
(*and I meant the pig and the bitch but those must be saved as we need pigs and bitches and ... love. Aspirations! They make things possible, love making miracles happen. You don’t believe me? Well, just look around you and inside you... Isn’t it a miracle how pigs can turn into lovly human beings and bitches get to become just adorable creatures, examples to be followed? I call this the miracle of life with the power of love._ Please, do not excuse this! It is absolutely reproachable an outburst.)
The only thing
The only thing that would please your eye
Would be me, lying in a gutter
All ashamed with what you arranged for me.
If one day out, the news would please your wounded heart:
Dead body, slayed in the most horrible fashion.
Gruesome scenery.
Attention!
Enjoy at your own mercy capacity!
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