you talk about flowers;
i want to shoot myself in the head

you talk about the sky;
i want to slit my throat and go to sleep

wanna' talk about the love gone sour
or how hard are whispers to breathe ?

gonna' talk about kings and cowards
and how them wolves wear the sheep ?

how about the sad things by a lonely hour
ghosts and tears they bleed

doused in flames of ink and its power
where the emptiness sleeps

beyond the everglades

so when are you gonna' dig deep
and turn to a different page

like back in second grade when
everybody made the same mountains,
a triangle, with river maybe a beach

when are you gonna' pretend
you're in a spaceship not on an
old ugly *** wooden seat ?

like all them other poets
too broken to weep

open your mind
there's an ocean to blind

and dead lines to complete

no hurt or violence to teach
happy childhood so good
got no stories to preach

only apples and peach
deep down where your sugar coated
hands cannot reach

don't understand a thing that
comes out of your tame mouth
your ******* doubts out loud
creep the **** me out
and i'm about to pick a creed

maybe we're just a generation of creeps
too eager to swim and hardwired to speak
too tired to think we're machines
metal and fire we're only wired to repeat

not go out of way down the road
with bag full of ale and smoke
enough to make a pained man choke
they say tragedy is comedy plus grief

in dark i know one cannot read
only the owls
but it's clear that you cannot tell
if it is a wolf that howls

clear blue skies from hell
when hounds prowl

what it's like to spell
when you're filled with nothing
but a void and a voice with two hearts
and halves of syrup and bleach

and yet you're so full of salt
and then you fill yourself with walls
mannequins and statues and dolls
watching the dead space
as the dead pace in empty halls

as the head breed


for gods sake there's so much
to hate and to forsake
the happy times cannot even compete

stories can never be complete
they take a life of its own
monsters and demons only reap
where they are sown

the mind can only lead thus far
every heart has a mind of its own
eyes that only read at the dusk hour
right before a new sun is born

and you want to talk about flowers ?

nor a fox not wise
with claws and pipes

a forests breath
with death ripe


just a day in paradise,
that's all i pray.


no fool for a price
nor a herd for a prize

malfunctioning slight
chocked with parasites


just a day in paradise,
if it wasn't for today.


spoiled thoughts
and foiled spite

caught then boxed
with no air to bite

lost and left,
kept for the nights

in transparent red
herein painted quiet


just a day in paradise,
for the one who pays.


in a stranger's head
with debt of dice

where heaven lays
and the dead shall rise

seven solemn days
that'll never come twice

mourning for prey
by a mornings pride


just a day in paradise,
for a day in paradise

if it wasn't for today.


kissed by the fire
shut with wire

no word nor desire
and made in ice


broken prism's charm
in arms of a lover
born away and in white

doused in hope
and not a dime to pay
no dream nor life


just a day in paradise,
and it'll never go away.


where beauty slays
and inferno hides

dante's meal
and a mountains might

where a valley bleeds
from a pelters diet

melting the stones
and people alike


just a day in paradise,
that's all there's to say.


whence scars bleed
opened far wide

and the hour sleeps
in fear and fright

where words fail
to tell and describe

rotten and stale
fighting the lights


just a day in paradise,
for the one who stayed.


nor a fox not wise
with claws and pipes

a forest's breath
with death ripe


just a day in paradise,
and that's all i pray.

i loved her and sometimes she loved me too
and all i ever was, too scared to lose her to another.

i miss her and i know sometimes she'll miss me too,
but not the way i have and certainly not the way i do.

only if there was a way to love someone
even more perhaps we'd made it through


and so i loved her and sometimes our love felt so true,
but you never know why when sometimes the feelings just die

and why the truly bless'd are so few.


now when i hate her at times i blame myself for having loved her true
but she was never mine and all we ever had is now lost to the time,

and i can't tame the bleeding blues.


i loved her and
sometimes she loved me too


and i try to find meaning in words
of the great Pablo,
but there's no healing only this
mutual satisfaction of knowing,

that he felt the same way as i  do.

even though we're not the same
nobody can tell anybody else's pain
though it's just one hell
and we'll never find each other again

at the very end
the only man in the mirror
is lonely you

but i loved her
and i know sometimes she loved me too.

bad kids don't die young and
tomorrow's just another day we fail

bad kids don't buy guns but
they swallow bullets as they wail

sad kid don't be shy, son;
they'll take you away just like the winds

look at that sad kid,
he don't - won't have none

still he wants to play
with them shells and ale


mad kids don't break them,
there's this jail with no walls and doors

bad kid - but he don't hate pen
swords and blades don't cut it anymore

sad kid don't be shy, son;
they'll take you away just like the winds

hey, mad kid - why don't you try some,
three's a crowd, fives a doubt and six a sin.

hey, sad kid - why don't you buy some,
take it in and they'll fix your grin.

hey, bad kid - you won't die young, and
they'll take you away just like the winds.

just a moment more
please hold on tight

been livin' in torment
but i'll be home alright

nothing for me to forget
don't have no words to hide

been livin' my regrets
but i'll be home tonight




i watch the sun set
and watch the moon rise

dreaming of tomorrow
in love with the moonlight

so tell me your sorrow
fill my hollow with your sight

have no stories to tell
and got no enemies to fight

no roads to learn and follow
wasting away miles and the life

got so many pills to swallow
i'd rather **** away all the lights





just a moment more
please hold on tight

been livin' in torment
but i'll be home alright

nothing for me to forget
don't have no words to hide

been livin' my regrets
but i'll be home tonight




nothing for me to say
you say my dream's too bright

i tried but you didn't stay
now i've got no bones to bite

no gloom for me to pay
the man in the mirror has died

no room for me to pray
got no demons for me to oblige




just a moment more
please hold on tight

been livin' in torment
but i'll be home alright

nothing for me to forget
don't have no words to hide

been livin' my regrets
but yes, i'll be home tonight.

I can write the saddest poem of all tonight.

Write, for instance: "The night is full of stars,
and the stars, blue, shiver in the distance."

The night wind whirls in the sky and sings.

I can write the saddest poem of all tonight.
I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too.

On nights like this, I held her in my arms.
I kissed her so many times under the infinite sky.

She loved me, sometimes I loved her.
How could I not have loved her large, still eyes?

I can write the saddest poem of all tonight.
To think I don't have her. To feel that I've lost her.

To hear the immense night, more immense without her.
And the poem falls to the soul as dew to grass.

What does it matter that my love couldn't keep her.
The night is full of stars and she is not with me.

That's all. Far away, someone sings. Far away.
My soul is lost without her.

As if to bring her near, my eyes search for her.
My heart searches for her and she is not with me.

The same night that whitens the same trees.
We, we who were, we are the same no longer.

I no longer love her, true, but how much I loved her.
My voice searched the wind to touch her ear.

Someone else's. She will be someone else's. As she once
belonged to my kisses.
Her voice, her light body. Her infinite eyes.

I no longer love her, true, but perhaps I love her.
Love is so short and oblivion so long.

Because on nights like this I held her in my arms,
my soul is lost without her.

Although this may be the last pain she causes me,
and this may be the last poem I write for her.

why do men die for other men ?
what compels them to give up their lives for the lives of their fellow men ?

is it love ? is it duty ? or is it just plain madness ? is it that bond of blood ? or a promise to be better ? or is it simply what being a human is ?


the same men capable of destroying a million lives in pursuit of their own ideology ? the same men who for the purpose of their own greed and need can ignore the very definitions of civility and liberty and justice.


can we still call them men ?


what is happening at this hour in this nation, a nation which is thousands of years old and in making; isn't different from what has happened in the past and unfortunately that is going to happen in the unsuspecting future.

people are turning to an ideology that not only imprisons the free bird in the sky, but also retaliates if it so chooses to lay on a different branch.

diversity isn't celebrated anymore, but rather is frowned upon by the masses, who believe that past holds no relevance over the future.

acceptance, and the very creed upon which the great men who came before us, and made us who we are today - their legacy and wisdom is being demolished, like cards in the winds; and just like the structures of the ancient, for they no longer are painted with the colours we are familiar with today.


sheep and wolves alike, are being chased by the blood hounds, cornering every whisper with words of the system, a system that has been diseased from the inside, infecting the very veins of this great nation that has stood the test of age and it's many a poisons for millennia and more.


bit by bit the great walls of knowledge and of the enlightened spirits are being razed down by a mere fool in different costumes, performing in a circus build upon the ashes of the innocent and the innocence of the communities that now long for blood.


the very nature of this great and grave divide, is unnatural, passed down by the same set of hands that once pulled the chains and carried with them - forcefully, a plight of millions, suppressed and then set aside fanatically, all in the name of a devotional creed.

lizards in boxes pretending to be voices of the free and humane, casting their spells on the fragile and a blind audience, numb by all the back and forth between the gods, and as always, only the peasant suffers.


how many more homes must vanish before we realise there's no magic in the disappearing of colours, and the despairing remains of the one's gone, painted across the streets in black and white, begging for somebody to give them their proper funeral.

it is men who take life, animals don't **** for their sins, they never have, for they don't know what it's like to be tamed by fire.

they'd rather burn, than become more like us.

maybe that tells it all, and maybe that is why, the devil may have horns and hoofs, but it never haunts and hunts the wild.


we are what we love, but we become who we hate, always - in the end, until something worse comes around to make things better.