Traversing fields of ice and barren lands
Accursed woods so dark and torrid sands
Returned have I, with nothing on my hands
To nothing more than simply make amends

I kept on following the brightest star
Up there it shined undimmed like a cigar
Across those mountains I have ventured far
The struggle, with my strength was not on par

I've faced the cold, I've been through hell and back
I've been so close to have an heart attack
These wounds around my arms, my legs, and neck
Have dripped along, they left this ****** track

Tendeth thee my ailing ills?
I have all lost my way and will
Yet in me lies a passion still
Some fast heart thumps that I can feel
Perhaps desire or the thrill
To happiness in me fulfill


*Of Hope and Failure by João Massada is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.

The wood and it's ashes
Suspended into the atmosphere
Embraced the fog and the curled up cat
Who purred
And drifted into her dream
While the old watchman
Watched the fire go out
Reflecting upon his bifocals.

Drunken boys
Walked with a drunken walk
Into their houses
Also
Drifted off to sleep
Wishing they woke up
To lust and money
That came from nowhere.

The homeless
Slipped into their rags and papers
Wanting to wake up
To, oh well,just another day
With promised food.
While rats re-scavenged
On the scavanged morsels

The women sang songs
Of elves to their newly born
Who understood none
Yet slipped into a world
Of ambiguity
Till the dawn

The day slept
Within the blanket of darkness
And a moon
Full of cheese and a rabbit within
Made of a whole bunch of craters
That soaked up
Hunger,thirst,failure and fatigue
Of the day

Love
Falling in and out of people
And tears
That only fell out
Whispered into the ears of tomorrow
To be better
To be less deceitful.

Lost in the city lights
Are small palms
Are little feet
Are muddy faces
Of children of a thousand unknown names
Those palms holding a bunch of 5 rupee roses.
And feet scurrying about amongst the traffic signals
Selling their future to wipe your car's windows
And muddy faces serve you
While their childhood
Brews in your cup of chai.