London before midnight

"Broken frames
Shattered glass
Like a monochrome film"
Burial place of souls
Back alleys crowded
Salty sand and soul dissolves
Out of control

Ask your senses
It's all over your broken body
Ask your sense
It's the same lies London runs

Out of focus
Blood and rythm
"As solid as a liquid monument"
Dark clouds
Promises of never coming rain

On the tied frame of a corpe

Technology
Machinery
Humanity it's all the same
Steam punk mice


Ask your senses
It's all over your broken body
Ask your sense
It's the same lies London runs

Night and day
What's the difference
Night and age
Based upon the same
Random order
Contorted, distorted
Doesn't make any difference at all

A figment, a fragment
Angular, circular
It's all the same

Ask your senses
It's all over your broken body
Ask your sense
It's the same lies London runs

Ask your senses; ask your inner, common sense.

Looking out of my window

[incomplete]

Strong winds up on the stratosphere
touches not the world below
touches not the filth of the human living
scratches the clouds into shreds
allowing for a waning moon to peek
to witnesss the death of the senses
the depravation of the heart
the putrefaction of a dead hope.

Halls of the blind

Since my last poem sucked, I wrote an old poem for old friends.

I can see what you see not,
visions milky then eyes rot.
When you turn they will be gone,
whispering their hidden song.
Then you see what you cannot be,
shadows move where light should be.
Out of darkness, out of mind,
cast down into the halls of the blind

Global unwarming

Red sun sets over the cemetery grounds
dying sun lighting the black with red hues
lighting the dried blood with healing fire
See the oceans rising blue
with silver lining drowning you
your living corpse
of heartless desire

It hurts even more to be alive and awake
Wondering the world with a sun ever present
That burns you but will not take you in it's fire
In a sea that won't let you drown
among tides of pain and doubt
In this silent tide We're driftwood passing by...

Hear the faint ticking of the heart
Under the sun, burning on an open chest
Ticking, the sound of life itself
whispering with a desire for death

And the world keeps being torn asunder
From the abandonment
From the ones that refuse to learn
From the ones that care nothing

The beating heart at the tearing asunder
The beating from a heart of stone
Watching us die all around, drink the blood
to fuel the loss of your divinity

Back in business

Oh yeah, ye cunts. I'll start publishing my poetry as soon as I get the exams a med school over with...

Thank you Keilantra, Herr Wulf and Mark Tyrell for the support. *drinks another shot of black Vodka* I FUCKING LOVE YOU, MAAAAAAAN!

Religion

I found out what my true religion is. A variation of budhism that doesn't for me to be singlely vegetarian. That believes in the spirit/force that makes everything come together and that unites everything. That sustains the survival of out spirit as energy, and that it can leave our body, for it belongs to the universe. Tha tells us that vices are bad, and the only way to fight them is to accept them, like budha taught us...

I'm a JEDI!

Politics

If you wanna know the politics of hell... ask the devil.

Questioning life and time with friends...

Of course it seems that I'm with Aimee for longer, far longer.
I, myself, have been going out with her since the begining of times! Or possibly since last week, it's hard to keep track, because the passion is all there, I need her every second of my life. Since ever and for ever! It feels like forever and yet not enough.
Because how are you supposed to measure time with the woman that you want to spend the rest of your life(s) with? What would make sense? Light years? Centuries? Nanoseconds? Miles? Parsecs?

Beloved Princess from the Alder Grove

I am lying, dreaming...
dreaming of your caresses
turning this winter of longing
into a perfect spring,
where, seating in the edge of the sea,
we touch each other, happily, eternaly
with the single satisfied soul we share.

I am lying, dreaming...
It rains outside, and sense doesn't exist.
The rain is the trunk
where I write your name
with the impossibity of our encounter.

I am lying, dreaming...
dreaming about your silhouette
and to the nature proclaiming
that the river of my love
has no end, has no mouth, has no delta,
and that everything comes together in a fire
that changed a me and a you
for the soft constancy of an us.

No furacão

Dá-me um carinho de partir pedra
Dá-me asas para voar
Garras para te docemente tocar

Clivar o vácuo intemporal num microsegundo perfeito
Deixa-me beber chá neste furacão

Quero partir montanhas sem as magoar
Quero explodir num único ponto
Quero rebentar com o universo
Num aso de amor universal

Clivagem e fusão de estrelas
Quero beber cá no olho do furacão.


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