Love can suck the glee from marry

WE GET IT!
I get it...
You insufferable prik!

You HATE all of it!

You hate your job...

(and somehow... 

that is my fault.)

You hate me...

You hate my family...

But it is Christmas.
Let us inferior
Optimistic fools
Have some joy for the day
And for God's sake
Get your glee sucking frenzy
Out of this place

And take your bitter taste with it. 

I shall open my door
to you
Any other day.

Winterfalls

Winter falls upon you
Like the icy morning dew
That freezes in your surface
A shield of unimportance.

Your back hurts from the frost
Bitten you ignore the sense at last
Shed from strain of polite games
Under that cover that is your age.

But the white fluf speckles that walse
On their labirintic ways to the grounds
Will turn grey as your hair and melt
Before you feel their Christmas sound.

You are free but so alone
In this unforgiving tone.



ps - Full disclosure Winterfalls is not my word.

Getting a feeling out

An actor pulls out a feeling
like a costume in a scenery.

When the tongue dries
and so do the eyes,
when I need to unclog
this lump in my throat stuck,
I pull out a music instead.

The correct bait
fishes that thought out,
that scared child that shies
from the street lights
hungry and angry
growing steadily.

Wiggling,
expanding,
folding
and rotating
owned by a ballads
sweet motion,
the sound of emotion
that ripples invading and releasing...

Healing.

Forgiving gift

She bounces once back twice forward
stiff, her feet on a stretched high rope
that swings teasingly with her weight
at each turn of her feline waist.

She had paved her way into this,
with a small fist full of mistakes
and the other of bad chances,
vanished return in the distance.

The frost of her disposition,
the sharp tongue used for ascension,
I knew the sting of its incision,
also the stake in her motion.

If I draw hand across her back,
a net will shape under her sight
free to fog in a damp release
granting her a steadier path.

Hardest is forgiveness, and yet
it is sweetest to the giver.

Friend don't despair - version poem

I have been fighting for the words to say,
anything that could push you the right way.
And I am disappointed to state
no text could heal your widow grief
so I didn't get that far anyway.

Here goes:

This sucks!
This isn't fair,
nor is it reasonable
and you have the right to hate
everything!...
right now.

Life's a devious bitch!
When you get a little air to breathe
it punches you right in the nuts
and knocks you senseless down
to taste the dust from the ground!

Love hurts!
Love is as hurtful
as living is deadly!
We weren't build to be treated this way,
our fragile existence
is torn into pieces
with the whims
of this treacherous adventure!

Please, please...though
don't forget
how much yesterday felt
worth it all.
Sit on your fingers for just a while,
gorge on chocolates
and as many indulgences
as you can find...
but remember
life will still be here
waiting for your return.
You count many people on your corner,
holding the towel and wincing with the punch
I know you can count on me,
when you decide to fight back.

Remember,
for every present
there was a past
and there will be a future,
and the laws of physics thus dictate
(due to the continuity of state)
that better days will come.

The mist nymph

Two glaucous lights
pierced the dense mist.
A breath of wind,
muffed a voice sing,
pushed violently
the naked branches of bistres
that caged out the moon
and alabaster rags
revealed in a pair.

The air shifted,
cutting icy at my face,
so did all branches,
the rags at me pointed
and I could distinguish:
"Hold him!"

My feet disobeyed
the ticker pumping
in angst to move away.
Down at my ankles
I saw dirt hands graspin'.
I looked up again
to stun at the approach
of this gleam of a ghost
towering over me
like a hologram
of a past unsealed.
"Hold him!"

Her voice brought tears
to my trembling knees.
Sweetened by a longing
that regret imprisons.
"Hold him!"

I heard of the tale
of a mist in February,
he had gotten out for wood
after a love ruffle
over the frost of the moon
and never was heard off
until this day.

She had lost her might
searching the next nights
until her body gave
still dressed in the gown
she wore back then.

Seems she searches today!

Her lanterns recognized
my understanding gaze.
With a sigh of relief
she crossed through me
leaving a taste
of daturas and moss.

In shivers I woke
and felt your warmth,
so I grabbed it tight,
cautious not
your dream to rob,
laced myself at its side
"I held you!"
while you are mine
to find.

The harpsichord

His snowy wings knelt, kiss the grassy ground,
fluttered so softly by his arms ballet,
flying fingers tipped out his light white gown,
pluck vertical strings that heavenly sway.

The sun pierced within clouds to peek at it.
Enlightened, laid it on hardwood casket
for a soulful resonance opened lid,
in a frame the thin players the keys beat.

Double echoed the harps glittering voice
spray of a waterfall, drop of Spring dew,
on wild flowers of a forgotten place.

Sits you shaded by violas' willow
with tea iced, berries, an epic romance
and a young child's love dream for a pillow.

Autumn wisdom

       Trees moult foliage
to withstand the pending wind
   but bloom stronger soon.

The poison of ignorance

Troubled with the news
of one scientific proof
  cited by deaf hopes.

Miss engineer

Her blue jeans flow into leader sneakers,
a nude fair face with wild hair ponytailed.
Her thin figure blends effortlessly thus
into the testosterone full fragrance.

Fortunate coincidence of features
with those promoted in trend magazines
freed her to intellectual ventures
and to snub the complying mannequins.

The random chromosomes combination
granted further stubborn intelligence
to pursue the defying vocation
most contrary to female convention.

Many stars aligned to tunnel her through
a ceiling she's better poised to fracture.

The crossroad end

There is a point unavoidably found
when although the view grows ever fonder
the dirt under your soles turns to stone
and the road promises splits no longer.

You're compelled to turn over heels to peek:
There is no way back yet extends on end;
You recognize each tree from root to peak
for the solace of shade they'd extend.

You can still count the rocks of tougher climb,
shiny ponds you filled with sweat, blood or salt,
or breezes that eased the steamiest time,
through those bulky barks that you groomed from sprout.

Either fills of treasure your breathing chest
or quicksands you into a hollowed step.

The monster mash

Dark shaded eyes on pale faces in black and white.
Sharp teeth and claws shine the hovering full moon light,
while onix capes and ivory gowns give gloom life
to the uncomprehended children of the night.

The milky gleam baptizes hairy howling hound,
the enchanting piercing focus of femme fatal,
the unseen, arms crossed, in shades is covered in cloth,
a thirsty count with capturing sight bares his fangs,
a gilled humanoid high-fives with long webbed fingers,
all wrapped in the musty stench of rotten corpses:
mummified, brought to life or assembled from parts.

This is the ancient unholy mash of monsters,
the welcoming post card to real Halloween,
may their emo flash mob sweeten your careless dreams.

Halloween Grinch

Knock... knock...

And I open the door.

What are all these masks for?

The night is fought
by candles and lanterns
carved from vegetables
in my front porch.
Loafs of pumpkin and spice
must reach the roads end,
the perfect bait!

A spider on a web over a face,
pale olive completion with hollow screws,
a surgeon holding a plastic saw and a brace
where dripping blood was reproduced.
All huge eyes and brightened teeth,
hands extended in gluttonous cheers
begging for candy and all sorts of treats.

A cold gulf of air freed through the frame
on queue I unfold my dark heavy cape
unleashing a flash bellow a bony square chin
curated with rice powder and gin.

With blood thirst in my ruby stare
petting my hissing black cat
with the lowest voice I can set
I tower over them and declare:

"Your costumes were bought!
You cannot contain your glee!
Take some paste for your tooth
that is all that it is worth here."

Before they could piss in their pants
I turn the door shut and echoed two laughs.
Well done Simba! Let's turn off the fans
check their picture and wait for their parents.

🍃 Autumn has come

That                                                                                                           
quiet                                                                                                 
whistle...                before the tempest,                               
a strand of hair lifted with stormy sent
advertising how time certainly went
without a signal or formal request.
| |
You recognize the Summer has nightfall
leaving fertile the ground for renewal,
where the spring seeded wild flowers were plucked
and first bronze tan burned leaves gently glided.
| |
Soon our feet will crack the crispy mantle,
lemon, carrot, cerise and chocolate,
colored sounds of the past paving our path
sedimented under frequent sun bath.
| |
Then, freezing cotton will carpet this earth,
we'll warm hands around hot beverages
from the plants we sprouted throughout these years,
covered in adventure collected cloths.
| |
But I'll mention Winter when I get there,
for now I need to garden...
| |
| |
_________________/ | \_________________
and                                     prepare!

Cosmic background radiation

Oh universe ye tellst to us thy tale,
thy megaphone part of a second old
fills all the vacuum in microwave
throughout the space ye darest to unfold.

So then more time passed than words might describe,
diverted by their dating with the stars
thy low cry was lost "electronics noise",
forgivest the limits of the species!

Fortune by their hunger of publishing
a profet's word of thy construct was found
the story of the beginning within
the silent global continuous sound.

The big bang of concept when theory
meets experience not scientist fear.

(inspired in 1/2 Nobel price in physics 2019)

The dangling bait

"Stop all this winning, wet nose drooling
pull yourself up, have any self-respect!"
(Slow cat walk, sit lick a paw and reflect.) 😼
"Though after your loss of grip, legs splitting,
kicks sowing and your eyes inflating,
the slide of the twister mutt off deck... 😹
Purr... wasn't my tail waving a bit direct?"
Small me, needs to be anticipating.😽

"If I throw a rope...meauw... redeeming,,
would your sharp teeth make my fur regret?
or would this benevolent saving
trump my mischievous nature in the end?
I'll gamble a life for a left wing."
"Thanks!" (Full face lick. yuck!) "I won't forget."

Italian Sonnet prompt by picture

Gentlehawk

Our bodies were carved
from the same ginger clay,
my dents match your protrusions
my lips yours, your fingers mine.

On a starless night
coupling to our desire
the watching moon
cursed our frail figures.

My eyes witnessed
you tossed, curled up
the ripping of your back's marble
and the snow feathers that erupted

Your olive orbs focused
on my glittering legs,
see I was revolving too
in the transforming pains.

See, we were build to fit
even more to complete,
I was sculpted to fall in
the deepest of your chest.

But life grew me gills
and you hollow bones
so I am letting you fly,
refined argil of mine.

We glimpse during twilight
that we used to hold tight.
Oh, just as I was set to fall in.

(inspired by the "Massive attack" psyche and the movie of Ladyhawk)

The shell pendant

The shell hangs on a golden string
asymmetric lines curved together
in the valley that roots my neck
a picture inside I keep on holding.

Cheap cloths on a public beach,
the young us playing catch,
a moment in colors of chess,
caught by a since lost lens.

It holds all those stormy nights
I came to sleep by your side,
all the "how was your day"s
of the greening of the leaves.

The cold of the suns that set
shed of that and other salt
and dried, pressured into pulp
holds the bones in a pole.

Me, a flag to the wind of time
tight to it gaze the reviewer,
it is that shell of once upon
my compass to where I've been.

But the tide keeps at my ankles
resigned to rob under my feet
the desert that there stood
steady as the clock's beat.

The day will come it will win
when of this shell I lose grip
and holding on to a gem
won't brace me for the slip.

Because it is your history
the concrete ground
the future is built upon.

inspired in : 

Your thorn brought in the world

I was hidden inside a cocoon,
color wouldn't breach in
all I saw were the shades
the world made on the walls.

Curious you shook the whole,
as a child would Christmas morn,
a muffled dead echo was all,
but got you to kiss my skin.
Your pointy curved thorn
rubbed my projection screen
and freed me from the gloom
teared the fabric off scene.

My wings liberated to spread
made your eyes bloom.
I cannot understand why
but I filled your blue sky.

All the while your kiss,
it still brings me to tears
as it is ever more dense
with the wet grass scent...
the fountain water splash,
the sparrow wing sound,
the moist of the breeze
from this roses ground.

You bloom in me ever more
more than I thought would fit,
and which is stranger of all
started with a kiss from a rose.

Inspired by:

Oh gravity, ye shapeth my universe.

Oh, treacherous pull of endless floor
under our light inconsequential trample,
in equal measure, the feather is won
cursed by thee, to its inevitable fall.

Thy naked invisible attraction
sways the seas in moonlight dates,
holds north and south feet kissin',
and has us visiting the sun from west!

Force that collects from all distance
a grip the scale takes the measure,
I miss ye largely drifting in space.

Ye are a tango between bodies,
from a bang that predates time,
sculpting atomic dust into planets.

A day I'll remember

Ten years past, as if it were today.
You waited in that open hallway.
A timid February sun lit the hotel
that morning almost a shell,
offering your hourglass navy blue figure
a center to its stage.

My parents met your planted feet,
hands resting in the side openings
of your fathers thick tailored suit
slightly wider approaching the ground
hints of when disco was in town,
eyes unwavering from my blush
while you x-rayed my resolve,
so they took the lift to the attic.

"Shouldn't you have waited
upstairs with our family?"
I had called to say I was coming.
"Thought we were going together."
A laughter sneaked out my nose
releasing my back bones.

The planning details included a rose
one for each lady with ruby petals
three in my hands with white speckles,
testing of cloths a hundreds,
tasting of foods of wonders,
the white heart shaped cake
with red hearts of almond
but we hadn't discussed
nor had the thought crossed
how we'd behave here after.

Not that it could matter,
I just wanted to dive in
your water green eyes
and anchor there forever.

We took to the hovering box
hand in hand on our own
with that ambient jazz
talking as if we hadn't
about who did what
to get us in there
and all the rushing.
Fitting we'd stand together!

He steadied my hand
as I now trust him to
glittering in sweet anticipation
his turquoises locked my sapphires
and we synched our breathes
in time to hear the arriving ping.

The metal doors opened
a live came this large room
framed by long windows
the salt taste from east
where the waves hit the beach
occupied most of one side,
while small houses and pine
filled the rest and the other.

Lots of chairs were rowed
to witness a table for three
centered by dozen scarlet roses
and with a white paper at hand
an official asked "what would it be?"
we said we'd order a life together
with a side of love and devotion
also adventure to drink
and little was then left to speak.

So on this day of lovers
we tangled our hands
with gold finger bands
and words to hold on forever,
starting a tale written by two.

God paradox

Here is what I cannot fathom:
If god is all and evermore
why would he follow
any treasured church?

Why would you
love a god to fear?
trust a god indifferent?
or be guided in his whispers?

If he is and has been
source and architect
why assume he means
a plan that is for us?

I conclude he either:
is bright and refuses the altar;
smites hence deserves no power;
or is not but our will to follow.

In any case, I am free
to be the best version of me
for the sole purpose
of earning my sleep.

A star is born

When huge amounts of mass
are so tightly compressed
becomes so dense
that it starts to burst.

Heat reaches values such
that the flames possess
the ability to generate
new elements from scratch.

Years of light traveled
to all corners of the universe
will delight our sight
in a simple shiny dot.

A child reaches up
pointing to the black veil
where a new spot
brightens the night.

"Look a star."
Then runs to measure
its height and angle
the color and texture.

She blinks back
nice to meet you too.

She has a back bone like none

(Allpoetry image prompt) 

We have all been scarred by life.

Some wear these in plain sight,
they display them in soft sobs
feed them as spicy cookie crosses
and blame them for the tortuous
ways of the lines in their hands.

Some cover them with colorful tunics,
the playful patterns dwell over raw meet
skinned by this melodic charade
of gardens of puppies and kittens
and over sweetened honey teas.

Some stick hard to the bones,
like vines on the worked stone
of an abandoned Victorian house,
the body grows mapping its grooves,
a Gardner's Siamese surgery.

She?

Before the first air stole her cry
her mother shirked at her hold,
what demon had tricked her whom?
The mother drowned in apocalypse now
while her first step got her closer to the door.

Her words as she took to it:
"there is no space in tight shoes
for feet to grow."
And she planted them on her own
on the hardest ground she knew.

She wore now the tattoo on her back,
an uneven waterfall of lumps
that jumped rope her spine childish,
as a testimony to the sturdy scalpels
and the coaching overload of nerves.

The story it told as I traced her naked lines
made all other women shrink
to barbie dolls in dream houses
and her lips had to teach mine to breathe
just to keep me from crying.

Lion heart meets its match

Pussy here owns the place!
From the front window frames
to the corners of the garage,
the floors kiss his pillow paws
in his slick sleepy parades.

Between the gate and the ground
where little light squeezes down to
greet Lion-heart with the birth of day,
an intruder crawled in today.

Filled with the size of his name,
forward his shoulders rolled
like only a hunter may.
But as he closed the space
to face he who stole the sun,
slower got his steady pace
for light could breach again
hitting the slender silhouette.

His crown would not allow
a second guessing of his step,
the long curvy trespasser
should have to slither back.

The snake full bellied
by larger a mammal
blinked once and twice,
but it gave no surrender sign.
She had to analyze the insanity
that made it try tower over her.

And as the reptile's head
lifted in the magic of its ways
above the tall held cat
she could distinguish sweat
breaking behind its gaze,
so she kissed its tiny nose in truce
for she witnessed a lion's heart.

Goodbye fleeting river (version2)

A carcass of your touch,
with fresh mint pop gum
A shadow adrift of a cloth
used on the floor hanging to dry.

You came back! Knee on
the stone step of this front porch
as last night on my pillow, vowing...
to stay for good, to make it better.

But... You left!
My thoughts drifted to when you did,
that salted dam released my burden,
I felt the air enclosed in no more.

At last,
my tongue gained ghostly words, its last:
"I am sorry, but I can't... let you in.
I'd love to trust your word, but... I... don't.?!"

So my hand closed
the heavy door of wood
and after facing it motionless
I too... left.

He wants it too.

His eyes widen bright holding the dam,

his lips tremble overlaid plumed of red,

his arms cross a bumper to his chest

and his foot strikes the floor ever louder.

- I have heard you and the answer is no!

His body splashes to the floor

waves of arms and legs

mopping the rivers he breaks in.

I breathe so,

stretching my lungs

to knock on my brains

to wake me from this scene.

He wouldn't even care

if only she hadn't gotten one,

but what was I to do?

She earned hers

and he could have too.

The most terrible beast

You hear at both ends
of simultaneous conversations.
Your mind splits
cut by the the pounding of their voices.
The vibrations
slowly turn the key
to the lock of the beast.

The nails at the end of its fingers
scratch your throat from within
with a deafening screeching
as it presses its way up.

Raises pine needles
alert behind your neck
and that is how you know!

You growl,
try to hold it down.

But it jumps out!

Like vomit,
kicking you back,
claws drawn,
roaring thunder,
of fur naked.

Its scales
color the floor of holes
scatter light by the edges
drawing its slithering silhouette.

Before you straighten
from its rejoiced punt
your eyes see through its.

The eye-leads,
those rarely lock dark blood
surrounding a deep pit
from the sides.

In those instants
you try to pull it back in,
but it's been shaded too long,
it hungers for the sun
and it almost eats it whole
for he is a black hole.

The voices stop,
recoiled glares instead,
that it is immune to,
won't stop its rage.

My rage!

And its name.

For there is not a most terrible beast
than the one I cannot tame within.

The color that stirs my blood

There you sit!
At the corner outlet,
you fashionista,
of few years late.

Holding a palette,
a disheveled brush,
a blue denim skirt
and a black beret.

Matching your outfit,
you paint all fabric
that surrounds you
with deep sea water.

You play with tones,
from sky to treetops
in gradient terms
you feed my sight.

A monument's roof top
rain rendered verdigris,
the shell of unborn robins,
a gemstone for fortune.

No wonder I vowed
to stare your colored eyes,
given a mouth of smart
and a sweetest heart.

I smile, swing a hand
across my pale forehead
then quicken my step
to horde your pieces.

Please dress me with
the meating of oceans,
where packed sea water
feast on the other colors.

Reflecting only you,
and me too.

The balance is one to nurture.

The balance is one to nurture.
The inside compass tips the scale
towards our insignificant survival
but it is faced eyes locked,
with jets of heat exhaled,
and pointy horns ahead
digging our hooves on the sand.

As if we could overpower nature.

In its indifference it laughs.
Earth shaped by volcanoes,
and the drifting land and seas,
carved by the feet of dinosaurs,
embraced by the roots of trees,
are but a dot on the cosmos.
The secrets of their years in rings
are but a tick of the clock.

As if nature need us.

It will draw a new path
grow new pets and sleep
an infant's game.

We on the other hand,
need the measure of the grain,
can't breath with less oxygen,
would burn with one degree more
and freeze with a single less.
We are the center of this mess
but we also own its consequence.

"Stars cannot shine without darkness"
is romance of fiction,
and not the reason they parade
thousands light-years away.
We are the ones that cannot
gaze into their bright eyes
during our specific day
or point at when they shy behind
the shade of our burning sun.
Wonder, would they mind
if we were to be blind?
or would we alone complain
our starless turn of days?

We for ourselves must maintain
our advantage in the game,
listen to the rumors inside the brain
built in chips of evolutionary gain,
so we don't become the fossils
getting brushed off layers of soils
by historian pawns of a new board
making assumptions over today.

The goddess in each

Where her heels lift,
with the ground kiss,
there bloom wild daisies.

When her lips open,
birds ruffle bloatin'
and prepare to chorus.

What crossed her touch
left the larva to wings
and discovered its reach.

She carries a wand,
blossoms to give life,
to song birds and men.

Women are left to wonder
what makes her brighter
as if it were to see.

Men are left in wonder
over their own measure
and why that'd be.

She is but the owner
of her own breeze
design and rhythmic steps.

Will measure to none,
while nodding to praise,
and ignoring the knifes.

No contour is fairer
nor is it more than skin
we are all born with.

The goddess in each
howling to be unleashed
from the mirror we perceive.

Wave of relieve

Tension cascades down the neck
shoulders all through heavy legs,
avalanche of a sand that has been
weighing me down with burden.

Vacuum replaces this drop
in an after echo of the shock,
legs deflated by stress of blood
are left without structure to hold.

Balloon head floats a migraine,
aimlessly it drifts ruler of none
in conflict duplicity of the outcome.

Celebrate the thick skin of endurance
or repudiate unseen extent of damage,
thus pick the numb wine to pour tonight.


par 3 of "Stages of stress":

• Fear of anticipation 
• Adrenaline shot
• Wave of relieve

Adrenaline shot

Feel the compression rising
on my combusting engine,
like a turbo button pressed
by the current happening.

The brain then fireworks
into chaotic overdrive,
kick that drops me almost
face down on rushing ground.

In that split of a second
that lasts a horrid century,
I force back the reins.

Focusing this flood of energy
into the eminent task ahead
that assaulted my head.

par 2 of "Stages of stress":

• Fear of anticipation 
• Adrenaline shot
• Wave of relieve

Fear of anticipation

Apprehensively extend unsteady fingers
confirm externalization of the beat I hear.
Heat waves tighten my lungs in hollow breaths
and quick sanded is the lock on my knees.

The moment approaches with inescapable aura
trapped on my own irrevocable stubbornness
my body ignored in the ambition to tame
this frightened drum that sounds the rhythm of life.

I focus on the increasingly distant instant
in which I look back at this nonsensical state
and laugh at my disproportionate frail disgrace.

Eyes travel to fruitful ground of conquest
that requires dominance over this, a test
which is the control of our spirits vehicle.

par 1 of "Stages of stress":

• Fear of anticipation 
• Adrenaline shot
• Wave of relieve

Quantum

Imagine, as they nowadays do,
that matter is actually
not in one place precisely,
that when the quantity
is really really small
and speed is rather high,
(so no cat, nor box, nor standing still)
matter becomes light
and light matter alike,
E=mc^2 and all that.

At this quantum scale
if you measure a particle's place
you know exactly where it stood
but not when it did so.
During that moment
it is not spread over all
in a probability wave
or a distribution of matter.

Yet funny things happen!
Like, passing instead
one single particle
through two holes,
this unequivocally shows
it not in any one place
but spread in a wave
from it you get time,
(take my word for it)
but not space.

So is the puzzle,
of quantum!

Portuguese blog

I have been writing poems in Portuguese since I was 10. I have decided to start a new blog with my Portuguese poems.
If you can understand the language, please enjoy:
palavras ao vento. 

Morning - as published

A muffled sound,
alarmed my ears
sharpening the senses.

My feet found the ground
before I could ask,
hands risen avoid shadows.

I tiptoed my way
through the dark corridor
anxious to find the door.

It was closed,
but I could hear feet
bouncing on the bars.

First placed my hand
on the cold knob
trying my best to relax.

Though the pounding
of a heart echoed
through my brain.

I opened it wide
as silently as
I could tremble.

A dim light escaped
filling the small room
with a eerie gloom.

Her head shot up
her eyes widened
with unspoken relief.

Her hands held
towards me in
completely vulnerable.

She could see me,
knew help had come
to set her free.

Soon released a giggle,
no words yet
just infantile drivel.

The beautiful sound
of a magical morning
in all daily glory.


 - as published in 2019 Havik - Las Positas College

Vacuum of recognition 📜🖋️

I got published, hurray!

As soon as I knew I flew
these news
to all of those
I keep so close
in white doves
of slick wings
with confetti on their beaks.

I love you so
I had to, you know?      

And thus I could rejoice
in your breading pride.
I could celebrate
more than I meant
or tried
or the occasion required.

But what of the deed?
Dead in deaf ears!

Not even the stamp
of a honorable judge
could tickle your thirst
for fruits of my stand
for lilies of my gardens
for sketches of my pen
for words of mine.

Who am I?
I am a concept.

To you measures of glory
are as flighty 'n' abstract
as scores in a game
that we play
and I am but the sum
and I am but a name
on a digital scale.

Happiness leads
thus to dismay:
As I understand
how vulgar  the collection,
as I comprehend
how hollow the victories
and cheap the dances;

As I bare defeat:
how tiny I am,
no one cared to check?

Henceforward shall I:
let this uptight life flee,
embrace the time
needn't be mine
and walk proud
of my own rhyme.

Is that not the stride
of the poet?

💙 Be my valentine 💕

Yes, I know it is all a ruse
a cynical scheduled snooze
of our daily growing bruise
before yet another noose.

But take my unsteady hand
lock your bright eyes in mine
I need this medicinal hot wine
numbing pause in our ever fight.

Let our worries thus dive
in tomorrow's certain strives
give me the now as prize.

Fill me again, your vessel,
of all for which we duel
let passion flow me through.

Chronic pains

My eyes flooded rivers of pain
that just wouldn't settle in
that would not dry
that would just not end.

Cut by papers a million
words whispered the wind.
I broke, I fell
and scraped it all
more times than I recall.
My heart has burned to ash
while compressed lungs
brought acid to my mouth
just to phoenix to a mess.

I wish I could weep today,
I can feel the bottling
the raising of the level
the silent build up of strain
small things altogether.

I crack and burst easily,
waves rush from my chest
lava eruption of fears
as I roar wildness of despair.

I stutter and shy
I find myself lashing
cowardly at a child
at a tiny heart of mine.

How could I?
What is wrong with me?
My brain tries to decide,
but what if it does not?
What could even justify?
Wait do not... don't cry.

His eyes focus wide
in the deepest of mine.
He knows this sound too well
he recons I'd rather not yell.
But what is he learning?
From my lack of restrain?
How much damage
am I ultimately making
and where does it begin?
where will it end?

I wish to find the possession
the source of this pressure,
and rip it out this time.
My ego finds only excuses
they are too light to blame.
What should I?
or what can I do?
What does it mean?
To me and to you?

My heart torches inside,
with the agony of my sight
in his tiny shiny huge eyes...
I need help! I need it soon!
Like lungs filling with water...
like tides need the moon...
like all else shouldn't matter...
His heart needs me full.

I need to meet this demon,
reach it in the darkest pit
of my cold hidden structure
pull it by horns of its,
bring it to the lights
of this glued smoked
faint heart of mine,
to answer for its crimes.

But much as I try
all I could find
is empty echo in the black
no end to pull or grab.
Am I so broken assured
I cannot save child I owe
from these explosive spurts?
And to the dark I return!

🌷 Flower revolution

It has been 50 years
to this very day
that captains dressed
the streets of jungle green
to cluster other colors,
no asphalt to be seen.

Coordinated by a tune
passed on the radio
that sang of fraternity
and power of the people.

These peeked fearful
behind heavy curtains
left their caged houses
to fight for their homes.

An old lady brought
vivid red carnations
a wicker basked of those.
Like a plea for peace
she filled with one
the cold hollow tube
of a solders shotgun.


In this coast forgotten land,
bathed by sea, warmed by sun,
gentle a mood, sweeter a wine,
that saw world wars from afar,
soon all of the guns,
man, woman and child
waved the red-blood blooms:
Enough to death and fight!
Enough to fear and prison!
Were part of the demands.


By hand of a flower,
they took back their lives
their spirits and brothers
from preaching, ruling,
patronizing institution
that shadowed their lands.

Together we are
then, today and forever
to join in this tune.

"Grandola vila morena" - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4X0zLfq8Bbs

Tear drops 💦

Salted water released
like an elastic band
loose my ribs cage
finally allowin' air in.

Roll down cheeks
turn at the jaw
trace down the neck
caress my armor.

When all else is pain
this human reflex
revives the senses
makes me feel again.

Let slide, wash away
like soul rain
brighten the grey
bring back sun-rays.

Oh, please let it begin.
What I wouldn't give,
in this moment I'm in,
for my dry eyes to spill.

Published "Morning"

A poem by yours truly was accepted in Havik Anthology - Las Positas College.
The title is "Morning" and it describes the thrill of a mother's waking up.
I hope you get a chance to read it and enjoy.

If I am taken before, know!

If I leave this earth
robed of the chance
to ease doubtful soul
of the grace you meant.
Stubbornly deaf
to my long rhymes,
uncertain of the truth
within my mood tides.

I try yet once
it is worthy sense
in these humble lines
that you disregard.

I lived no regret
nor dismay of step
and collect no dept
thus leave quite set.
I awaited this day
sweat releasing fay
not meeting halfway
but greeting its say.

I try once more
it is worth for sure
in these honest lines
that you inspired.

Know, when troubled
I found always peace,
your embrace shielded
from out and within.
Not once did you fail
to cast light to my gloom.
Never leveled by feat
to another in the room.

I try once again
it is worth to mend
in these plain lines
that you'll require.

You were an anchor
to this simple bliss
that has been breath
while breath-taking.
You were ever more
than I could sigh for.
You were ever there
whenever I could care.

I try once anew
it is worth, so true,
in these easy lines
that you deserve.

If I part content,
in swift a blink
or in pain extent,
and trust me, I do.
The size of heart
dreams and the path,
are then owing to you
and the seeds we grew.

Who'd I wanna be?

People always asked me:
Who'd you wanna be?
A fire-woman! Policewoman!...
Dancer! Singer! .... then nothing.

My father always told me:
Find your one true dream,
something of purpose to follow
to push to strive and prosper.

I didn't, I couldn't, still won't.
Yet endless crafts learned,
overshadowing the studied one.

I can today with certainty state,
from this humble panoramic corner,
that I am successfully complete.

Ultimatum

You punched deep!
You knew you would
you aimed at it to
and you struck me.

You wanted change!
Desperate for hope
that together fate
'd be in your stroke.

So much we made,
So much triumph,
So much we shared.
Did it mean the same?
You casually chattered
the illusion of cheer.
As if what mattered
was piercing my ear.

You wouldn't  bother
considering the bruises.
And you didn't offer
any solution or truces.

You would reduce
all we've been through
to waist and sewer
because it didn't fill you.

Years I've invest
in me and you.
Years I've given
all that I could.

Since, we've been
flammable and fragile.
So we're in a tantrum,
impossible to handle.

I don't want to lose
my perfect man,
I just don't own
happiness for both.

So I will follow you
to where you decide,
I will change our life
according to your cries.

But I will not stay
becoming your pain,
we will not be reason
to your dreams failure.

We cannot be enough!
Of that you were clear.
Never intended we'd be
but feed your spirit.

If you can't depend on us
to improve your days
there's nothing to do
we are but through.

Ain't asier being me

Yes I was lucky,
that doesn't mean
it was easy being me.

Yes, my eyes are rare,
my skin is fair
long wavy hair,
and I am curvy
born in a society
that praised that.
But that doesn't mean
it is easier being me.

Yes, I haven't had
a serious beating
or real threat.
Yes, great parents,
never wanted
while growing up.
But that doesn't mean
it was easier being me.

Yes I've studied,
and never pay for it,
even chose freely.
Good in math matters,
known for my wits
and emotional grasp.
But that doesn't mean
it was easier being me.

Yes, I've married,
I have kids and a job.
Yes, I do carry
pictures on my phone.
I even got to chose
an expensive one.
But that doesn't mean
it was easier being me.

No, I don't know
how hard it was for you.
That is precisely
my expressed idea.
I do know thought
that neither you could,
from your complains
and your bitter vents.
 
I ain't complaining.
Truly, I am fortunate
for all that I am and
know to be thankful.
So stop judging, see,
you don't know me!
And this doesn't mean
it was easier being me.

(Music to be added to the lyrics.)

👶 Strolling lullaby 👶

Your littl'hands in mine,
one at each side,
balancing forth n back
in a gentle tide.

Hum this simple sound,
join in your voice,
for moments as these
will forever bound.


Blue is the sky
warm sunny light.
Green is the grass
that lets us pass.
Yellow is her dress
hand to my right.
Red is his shirt
on my left side.

Pick up a swift pace,
giggle as we race,
to meat nowhere
and no one chase.

No need for a point
no reason to curve
nonsense is plane
magic just burst.

Blue is the sky
warm sunny light.
Green is the grass
that lets's pass.
Yellow is her dress
hand to my right.
Red is his shirt
on my left side.

How could I
've ever thought
you'd bring me
so much color?

As you hold
my hands tight,
dazzling smile...
This is the life!

Gentle depression

Light was the pain
I felt today.
Slight was also
that of yesterday.

It climbs my walls
and clings to its sides.
It dulls the light
and blurs the sight.

Rooted within
like part of the gene
it won't let me be...

A pale cloud
hovers overall,
caught in its claws.

Hand your sister a bead

- Mommy, she's at it again!
- What is she doing then?
- She is breaking it,
always ruins everything!
- Oh sweet boy, how to make
you see long beyond
these testing days?
Past learning to chew
her hands and toys
to when she is your closest.
Through thick and thin,
she'll know you best.

- Hand her one bead.
She only wants to be
part of her amazing
Bubba's fantasy,
she won't care how big
her part is in it.

You'll miss these days
she can't help but stare
in wonder and awe
of her big brother.
When she is grown
and no longer a fan
she will then frown
and you won't idol.
Keep her hand near
your voice in her ear
help her develop
and forever be there.

If you don't resist,
you will find she is,
to you, and you to her,
my ultimate gift.

Citizen of EU

Undervalued in my own country
I traveled for further studying
loving here I kept staying
never deciding, just wavering.

With time the welcome resented
my inability to learn the language,
in a daily struggle to manage,
and the longing for my heritage.

Friends everywhere judge
absence and failure to adapt
as if life gave me the chance.

No longer a familiar home
in either side of this wold,
falling between EU cracks.

True valentine

It is a time to celebrate
hang heart shaped balloons
bake strawberry-choco cakes
behave as love drunk fools.

To collect all these years
of dedication to another
draw out fanciest ornaments
praises to our accomplishments.

To overlook all the pain
involved in compromising
and contemplate faith.

Faith in you and us, that
tomorrow will better today
as yesterday wanted still.

Ten years of marriage ⚭

Ten years of marriage.

Dreamed by your side, woken laid you by,
cried to your face,
puke and fesses
left me no grace.

Blessed were we twice,
ugly divine creation.
Fortunate even more times
than we dare to mention.

We built on as hard a rock
as we could phantom.
We collected springs
and winters in measure.

Faced as unity would
dreadful pranks of fate,
unshakable in embrace.

Felt your sour rage
felt the sourest rage
as despair and disgrace.

Knowing to trust
our devotion to us
made our love prevail.


Not that love of poetry
but that of every day,
tougher and truer.

Science spell

The voices of angles
drawn out in dreams
to read out new angles
of these endless streams.

The grasping of nature,
goddess of the truth.
Her unwavering rule
divine pass our youth.

Complex threading
of entwined calculations
to aspire comprehension.

All a glimpse at perfection
and its resemblance
to the cosmos balance.

Scientific cycle

State of the art engineering
in groundbreaking experiments
to collect data researching
revolutionary hypotheses.

Refuted or corroborated it's
used to advance the ability
to develop innovative tests
for its renewed boundaries.

Imprisoned in insatiable cycle,
euphoric thesis are confronted
incessantly with discovery.

With passionate conviction,
to comprehend the universe,
mostly gain the vastness' notion.

Science 🧪🔭🔬

When knowledge allows
with certainty to determine
from the past the future
pride in the mastery swells.

The next scale is reachable
now feasible experiments
brave discovery movements
from advance to dispute.

Questioning its foundations
determined only by solutions
the key to its developments.

Science! Curse and addiction
you're nature's devious parody
mastering you is the mission.

dyslexic expression

When the rest is lesser
and your brain gets slower
slower than your mouth
unwanted soundssstumble out.

When the stress is higher
and your mind races wilder
wilder birth of abstract idea
failed redundantly to voice.

Your complete sentences
unrecognized by own senses
betray considered reasons.

Fail to read without notice
bypassing, repeating, switching.
Fail to state the obvious.