I just put out a cigar
I grab a pen and
start writing words and
I'm listening to a song and
I'm sitting at my desk but
I'm not here and I don't
know where I am. My mind
has drifted and this pen
gained life of some sort.
Brilliant!
Just brilliant. I feel light and
I feel some sort of gravity in the tip of my fingers. I'm not in control but I'm in control.
Words are spilled and
thoughts are unscrambled
and apparent random phrases
are made and I make a full stop.
I read it,
I think it's a piece of ****
But am I right?
I just don't care and keep writing words and I'm still listening to a song and I'm lying down in a warm beach with dark waters and glass instead of sand and I see the moon, so big and so bright, as I look up and I saw only a ceiling, so big and so bright as the moon, and tears running down the walls and the beat of the song continues and the pen writes at it's own rythm, faster and faster as the song moves on and as the world moves on. Wars are made and wars are ended, revolutions are made and revolutions are ended, empires rise and empires fall, words are chosen and words are discarded, but what makes it art?
HONESTY.
If I said everything
what I think about
every second,
People would think
that I'm insane.
Sep 21, 2014
Sep 21, 2014 at 3:46 PM UTC
Now
you see me
now you see me
and
my heart
and mind
now you
hear the sound
the sound
of my pulsating heart
while art
is being made
in a drowned
reality
while grenades
of liberality
and of triviality
and of unreality
and mortality
are being made
sanatorium sings
and you see me
as the truth of
reality is
smooth and cruel
let's say
as a poet
or
as a ghoul
on church school
as the players plays
as the thinkers think
as the rulers rule
as the free free
i just light
another cigar
But the right
are still right
Sep 21, 2014
Sep 21, 2014 at 3:37 PM UTC
We all want something
We all crave something
We all lust for something
We all believe that when
We get “that”:
We will be happy
But the truth is: You will get “that” and
You will want something else
You will crave something else
You will lust for something else
Thus you'll never be truly “happy”
So, live day by day
Moment by moment
enjoy the ride of life
Fear, frustration, dissatisfaction
Will end
Accept that you'll never be truly “happy”
and all that remains it's actually the thing
We all crave for.
Mar 18, 2014
Mar 18, 2014 at 4:42 PM UTC
I just put out a cigar.
I grab a pen and
start writing words and
I'm listening to a song and
I'm sitting at my desk but
I'm not here and I don't
know where I am. My mind
has drifted and this pen
gained life of some sort.
Brilliant!
Just brilliant. I feel light
and I feel some sort of gravity in the tip of my fingers. I'm not in control
but I am in control.
Words are spilled and
thoughts are unscrambled
and apparent random phrases
are made and I make a full stop.
I read it,
I think it's a piece of ****
But am I right?
I just don't care and keep writing words and I'm still listening to a song and I'm lying down in a warm beach with dark waters and glass instead of sand and I see the moon, so big and so bright, as I look up and I saw only a ceiling, so big and so bright as the moon and tears running down the walls and the beat of the song continues and the pen writes at it's rythm, faster and faster as the song moves on and as the world moves on.
Wars are made and wars are ended,
revolutions are made and revolutions are ended,
empires rise and empires fall,
words are chosen and words are discarded,
but what makes it art? Honesty.
If I said everything
what I think about
every second,
People would think
that I'm insane.
Mar 12, 2014
Mar 12, 2014 at 5:02 PM UTC
To do magic I’ve to believe in magic
Even knowing that’s not real
This Inconsistency deceive is tragic
Is it real? Is it surreal? But
The mask blurs my vision
Since I get up until I lay down to sleep
I can’t find the appeal
It’s an incision that will never heal
And, oh yes, it is deep and
It’s hard to keep but harder to tell
So, I live breath by breath
In an almost constant, state of restless
The air I breed makes a dance of death
Great and honest for my eyes to see
Since I get up until I lay down to sleep
I want, and I can, but I won’t?
Freedom costs,
The weight weights,
A man gasps
And I? I just breed
With an heavyweight core
To whom I want to play a trick
To untangle myself from this burden
Cause if I wasn’t I
Maybe he wouldn’t write
Or maybe he wouldn’t be alive
If I wasn’t I
I wouldn’t be me
It’s actually funny how the universe works
The randomness or not
The most minuscule single variation
Could affect everything or nothing
Could mean the difference between life and death
Between me, he, or you.
Magic could even exist!
Nov 4, 2013
Nov 4, 2013 at 6:41 PM UTC
I randomly exist to be
to touch the spectrum in braille
like a mad alchemist who see
through the veil
It is both a blessing and a curse
to see the world with my own eyes
makes everything seems like a rehearse
everyone tries and everyone dies
but what I do, is not a science
To live is an art
'cause if we really live
everything we do is a piece of art
even a gone passion in an artificial world
or artists with eyes of dead artists
all whirled up in fear
as instead of using it as a premiere
chance to give the eye inside
a chance to see through the veil
to be untied and alive
Nov 3, 2013
Nov 3, 2013 at 2:12 PM UTC
*On the top of rationality
Remains an abyss to insanity
That I persist to climb
Until I reach my prime
Until I grasp all the rains in my veins
Until I rein the reins
As I contemplate all the plains
Of grayish fate, thru trees of clocks
Leaves of wish and apples of Eve
Thru rocks weightless as chants
And thru ants and doves verging chess
Hazy mortals with gloves of hate
Lazy and crazy mortals,
In such rare lands of bliss,
Obliterating the glow...
**So, I knead the canvas with my bare hands
And threw myself into the abyss.***
Nov 2, 2013
Nov 2, 2013 at 7:17 PM UTC
The world can be dark, but
where is darkness, there's also light
The world can be harsh, but
where is cruelty, there's also exquisitness
where is selfishness, there's also kindness
where is evilness, there's also virtuous and moral goodness
There's night and day
Death and Birth
Walls that rise and walls that fall
Capitalists and anarchists
Empires of slavery and places of Love
Scientists and poets
and scientists of poetry
and poets of science
There's the Yin and the Yang
There's the black and the white and also the grey
There are demons and angels
In this ball
An eternal dance inside of us all
Sep 29, 2012
Sep 29, 2012 at 1:40 PM UTC
*I want to grow back younger
to feel free once again
to scream
naively with no hunger
but the whole thing is nothing but a dream
from i keep awakening ´
wrapped in chains
inside my brain*
Sep 29, 2012
Sep 29, 2012 at 1:33 PM UTC
I lay down and I sink in bed
As the impression of departure of an airplane
That leaves the heart and guts behind, and body ahead
As I were in an endless looping of a rollercoaster but soar
Pushing all my blood to my core in vain
My epicenter of gravity increases
Sinking me more, my eyelids are heavy
And the strength to keep them open decreases,
I’m melting, I’m dipping, I’m merging, and I’m heavy
My sheets are my skin, (my skins!)
No heart, no guts, no body, only black
…and so the dream begins
May 11, 2012
May 11, 2012 at 10:06 PM UTC