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.