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Poetae Opus May 2017
What else can I do
If you still deny your true nature?

What else can I say
If you're still stabbing to yourself?

Not in vain,
The Grace is covering us,
In which the false kiss is getting naked,
For submerging us
Into the abyss.

Let's revive the Old Divinity!
Let's awake the New Tablets!

The Patience is just a helmet
Whereas we're accustomed to feel
The same heaviness;

And words only serve
To announce a sweet pain.

How I'd like to scrub my heart
To succumb around the superfluous religion!

How I'd like to shake my spirit
To procreate a new god!

The Earth does not call to the ones who are ghosts.

I have walked along centuries ago,
To know that the divine isn't gotten
By repressing the Beauty;

And also to be sure that,

If Spirituality has no direction to follow up;
It will become in Madness.
Poetae Opus May 2017
I was trying,
To get drowned,
Into my red well;

Just a reminder of Faith could,
Take me away;

I don't live to leak,
A broken mirror anymore;

I only die to have,
Another Guide!

If Death could kiss my soul,
I'd rather become a ghost,
For it is not fair,
To stab myself,
With the same sword;

Just a deep breath can restore me,
To the normal range;

In which the air is still polluted,
By the same madness;

Just my vision can write a prophecy,
In which your arms build a temple,
To reborn within the purple love;


So I will not see sirens of flesh anymore!


Along many lives,
I have cried,
The loss of my golden rose;

And many other lives would take me,
To awake,
A new beginning again.
Poetae Opus May 2017
Let me swim through the fire river!
Your lips are sweeter than the honey!

Let's dance to the Arabian music's rhythm!
Our heartbeats claim for a naked ritual!

Even in a hidden temple,
The Gods will be willing to come along,
And sing an old Psalm;

Whereas through my blue prophesy,
Your eyes will shine under the pale moonlight.

May my whisper be your guide,
May my sword be your strength;

Not in vain,
Your red angel requests you a loving smile,
To succumb before your sadness.
Poetae Opus Jul 2018
It’s a dark sign that,
Your eyes draw a breeze,
Which is encircled
In the spasm,
Of my wrath;

It’s a dark sign that,
Your body makes my blood dance,
In the middle,
Of a volcanic torrent;

Faith & Desire cover up my flesh,
And nine-inch nails caress my face,
Whereas Time & Dust are never enough
To fill up such a Blast;

Despite of we are strangers,
To each other;

I’m still being the Storm,
That arises The New Sun,

Whereas thistles & wires will
Never set on
My footstool;

Despite of your image reflects
The absinthe,
In which,
My soul gets his thirst satisfied;

I’m still being the Thunder,
That gets rid of any appearance,

Whereas mud & ashes are
The final result,
Of your assault;

Backbones crawl
Over shallow waters,
And feel a bit of humanity,
By kissing each other,
As slow as they can;

Just a smile of mine can
Reveal such a red Truth,
On the left side!
Poetae Opus May 2017
I only feel hunger for the stones and the wind;
Never an inspiration is more than enough,
And the senses are much alive when
The night is crying with anyone's wrath.

I'm walking over thorns and blood
In which the pleasure is just a song
For an eternal dance;

Fire and earth are the nourishment
For the stolen innocence;

I'm feeling some presence behind me;
The ghosts are warning me about.

This sensation makes me feel like a shadow in the sunlight,
And I want to scrub the heaven
For all the Hell given to me
As a blessing.

On this day,
Any belief could keep me alive;

I just know that I need to survive;

It's a human voice,
It's telling me I'm not cursed,
It keeps me breathing,
In spite of I kissed the Death;

What it's a Sin for some ones,
Is a Miracle for others;

There will be a shadow that wants me
To sing along,
So I will never say that Life is a torture;

She is the Red Whip that takes shape
On my naked arms.
Poetae Opus May 2017
I have come to swim
In your red veins again;

The song is silent
Among the twisted shadows.

Do not try to disturb the intensity
By following the common sounds;

The love will be more honest
If you let your feelings go.

A god's mirror is made to be reborn
In which a goblet's fire isn't enough
To change your soul!

Words may fly
Around the dark crowd,

But the feather that writes the truth
Will give you the pleasure to live
A joyful night like this!
Poetae Opus Jun 2017
How I wish
To let you sway
Through the red mountain!

An image of yours is not enough,
To get inspired!

And many doves sing
An ancient praise,
Whereas the roses blossom,
To get you crowned!

How I wish,
Calling my dark caress,
To invite you,
To the last banquet!

No more desires will occur,
Before the Great Throne,
And Sensuality will be a psalmist when,
She meets Love;

The beginning of the end is
A promise,
To be someone new,

In which,
Nails and ashes are gotten rid of;

However,

The pleasure will be transformed
In a given when,

Our eyes are willing
To make a tear dance.
Poetae Opus Jul 2017
I only think of the Heat and the Death;

Even in silence,
I can picture such purple eyes,
Whose pupils are too big,
To disarm my mask;

I only accept a caress,
If it is worthy,
To get unveiled;

There are too many blind thugs,
Seeking for a golden hole;

I only feel pleasure when,
My spirit dances
In the sunrise;

Not even the blue sky is willing,
To move his clouds to know,
If the mankind is still being
The same race;

Crisis are everywhere,
And no one is able,
To visualize the end;

I only remain,
Between the sun and the wind,
To sing along;

The Truth cannot be believed,
Unless we are living in.
Poetae Opus Apr 2018
Such Coldness of mine,
Abides me,
To unleash my laugh!

What a barrier,
I unconsciously create,
To restrain my prophetic reign!

Golden pillars and purple banners are,
The vision entitled,
To announce such reality,

In which the sky gives,
His farewell,
To the mournful sun;

There is no way to start a journey,
With a blindfold on,
Which will drag me,
Into a mental precipice,
After all;

There is no way to share any wisdom,
If I’m not the first follower,
Of my thought.
Poetae Opus Sep 2017
I only live to be myself;
I only smile to be happy;
Why should I make more efforts,
Except to know when,
My Divinity is coming?

One life can lead us to the abyss,
Or it can reveal our hope,
But it depends on us,
To choose one of those;

No matter if the scourge is intense,
For it’s Faith that determines
Our true Strength;
No matter if your being decays,
For your Faith will lift you up again;

Doubt can ****,
And Fear can become you a slave,
It may take your entire life,
To let them be on your back;

Just forget who you are,
Think: I no longer want that,
And let the Divinity within you,
Be on your side!
Poetae Opus Sep 2017
How many times
Have we fallen
On the ground
While we tried
To walk on?

Did we ever stay
On the ground,
And cry over our failure,
Or did we stand
On our feet,
And continue trying
To walk on perfectly?

In the same way;
In search of our fate;

We will stumble
Over and over again;

However,

Our perseverance will determine
Our strength,
To stand on our own
And still going on!
Poetae Opus Jan 2018
No more tears,
I'll weep,
To conciliate my Destiny,

For my Scepter is not,
Made of glass;

No more rebukes,
I will attach,
To remind my Duty,

For my Evolution does not,
Reside on Hatred;

Fire never extinguishes fire,
And ***** water is never drunk up,

For no one is able to smell,
The blood of their failure;

I can only arise,
Between my laugh and my dance;

Life becomes hard when,
My own perceives so,

And Time is only an excuse,
To believe I'm worthy;

Even following a constant routine is
Willing to be seen,
As a temple within;

I cannot die again;
I cannot whisper another oath,
To feel the same blade;

The wound keeps bleeding,
If Roughness persists on,

And I wanna be ready,
To crush black petals,
On a red soil;

I'm willing to awake,
A new dawn!

For my ears are already listening,
To the rise of a singing night!

Behold the mankind's eyes,
The Flame burns it all up,
For the Spirit is able,
To open up Hearts.
Poetae Opus May 2020
My blood has been restored,
To its numinous swaying;

In my bedroom,
I hear a nymph's whisper,
Succumbing,
Before my thinness,

And there isn't any stone,
Getting into my shoe,
To make me walk lamely,
Towards an abandoned house;

A mouth tastes a hieroglyphic elixir,
In which the Pontifex writes his prophecy,
To pink kores,
And the Moon bathes herself,
In such a blue oil;

The body has been made,
To express a God's delights,

In which my ears draw,
A violet warmth,
To reflect my anima's words;

How much longer will we still crash our faces,
Into a drying lake? .-

For denying our inner song is,
Like scratching off a golden coin.
Poetae Opus Aug 2018
I let myself sway,
On your steps,
In which your eyes reveal
My life without fatigue;

Sweat & blood mark
Our survival’s story,
In which a smile can
Relieve us,
From such a mournful glory;

No one can give up a bone when,
Her world needs,
To get nourished;

Broken words emulate
A future’s tear,
Which is about
To become,
A shadow’s nurturer;

I will not give in;
I will not let my hand sleep,
In a numbness without a dream;

From the sunlight,
I hear your voice claiming
For another shift,
In which your feet and mine could
Cross each other,
And dance a golden sea’s melody,
We’ll always hope,
To find out;

From the silence,
I dream of your breath whispering
For a miracle,
In which your fate could
Unmask such a hidden love,
Which has been forgotten
For a long while,
And build a path,
You will never go back;

Strength & patience manifest,
The Eternity in one minute,
Whereas Good & Evil find themselves as lovers,

So,
Let Emptiness smooth your sores;
Let the water refresh such a shady throat.
Poetae Opus May 2017
I don't feel any blood
Running through my veins;

The pleasure is so embracing that
I could get rid of myself.

There are no more tears running down from my eyes;
Even in sweet times,
I can be dishonest with my life.

I do not try to catch the fire with my fingers;
My soul would be so weak
If the heat burns me up.

I will never die among plastic sirens;
I have wandered centuries ago to know that,

Love can be twisted
If we drink up from the wrong cup,

And a kiss can be betrayed
If we don't learn how to observe
With our heart.
Poetae Opus Nov 2019
Now,

My wish is
To become the Wind,

For
On this flesh of mine,
A shadow dancer arises,
To be such a purge
For my eyes;

I only feel Thirst
For the Purest and the Naked,
For my body doesn't
Reclaim
The wisdom,
Of any new religion;

A Maid aspires to be a Kore;
A Kore aspires to be a Mother;
A Mother aspires to be the World;

Even the slightest tardiness
Demands
To be aware of by,

As well as a single coin
Craves
To be deep-felt within;

There isn't any materialistic meaning,
Except the one that,
Everyone puts on,

For the Circle turns around,
To let the sun arise,
To make any Conscience waking up.
Poetae Opus Apr 2018
Surrounded by the sunrise,
I can think,
Of nothing else;

Just a hidden emotion tries,
To get manifested,
But syllables are not enough,
To describe,
Such a gap;

Just the green color stands
Before me,
And smiles,
Like saying:

“It’s never too late,
To reveal yourself;
Life doesn’t reside
On being bombastic,
But to be free,
From all kind of chills”


Now on the sunset,
Words are unnecessary,
To sing along;

Just an inner peace is
Reigning,
Over me,

Like an orange breeze,
Setting
On the sunshine’s sleep.
Poetae Opus Jun 2017
I'm living around the purple darkness;
The illusion comes up in many ways.

I'm living among green ropes;
My field is still afar from me.

It's easy to try being different when,
We keep smiling at the same wall,
On which nails and sand were erased,
From my heart.

Flesh and diamond are filling out the temple,

But the wisdom is still unknown,
Among the thorny caresses.

Right now,
I don't wanna keep living,
With the laughing blindfold anymore;

I just expect to die until,
My soul will be seen,
In the splendor of the Great Noon.

As our image is reflected in the mirror;
Our heart will be cast in our actions.
Poetae Opus Apr 2020
I have foreseen my Oracle,
In which The Lover displays,
Such a boisterous spear,

And The Priestess rests
On her altar,
To attract new lightings;

Water & air are,
Such a hand,
That grabs a chalice,
To put it
On the right Ark,

And my flesh is,
Like a dancer who
Summons the intermezzo,
Between Dark & Light;

No more nails are spread,
Across the land,
For The Hunter still waits,
To cut off his prey's head;

No more words are lost,
In the twilight,
For the rain does not cry,
To see how plants die;

The Sky is about to pronounce,
His last syllables,
To let us all know,
How a true Balance works.
Poetae Opus Apr 2020
In the temple's corridor,

I see how a red light flashes,

And covers all over;



Its luminosity distillates a fragrance,

Resembling

A marble god's advent,



And the shadow projected on the floor

Shows

His fulfilled prophecy,

Which is written on air and warmth;



Like a flesh-and-blood spirit that walks

On silver crowns and purple orchids;



My hand is able to grasp a sword of His,

And slash the ether,

To make the sun scream.
Poetae Opus Jun 2017
I'm still dancing on red plastic;
The Moon is so generous,
To offer her goblet to me.

I don't try to let myself go;
The repression is too dishonest when,
I summon my blue nature.

Sometimes,
It's easy to set the desires free,
In order to get a good communion with the earth;

The pleasure has been rooted centuries ago,

So it's not new that our psalms contemplate,
The purity of our flesh.
Poetae Opus Nov 2019
Have I nailed,
The Heart of Lust,
In which your eyes glow,
Like a gem
On a rock?

Have I crucified,
My reckless flesh,
In order to attain your smile,
And to make your fame,
Dance on square?

Neither the wind,
Nor the sand
Are able to harsh,
Such a big chance,

In which Fortune sings her Canto,
To awake future Saints;

However,
Let's pretend you know not me;
Let's assume you want profits only;
Let's believe you just need a fire within;

For Desire opens up her Mysteries,
To the Ones who are about to shine.
Poetae Opus Jul 2020
I have come,
To provide a heaven;


Rather than giving
Such a metallic seed,
And make believe,
There would be a tree;

I have seen you,
Singing in the temple,
Whereas no one enters,
Unless their mask would be stripped off;

A purple orchid and an orange torch,
Can easily spare some Beauty,
Among Gentiles,
If they're willing to survive one night,
By giving up their crimes;

In which I smell incense no more,
For the air is full of lame coins;

Nevertheless,
I do believe,
There is a light,
At the end of the corridor,
In which,
Your eyes and mine shall create,
A Tower,
Whereas the Blind can find,
An ambrosial Sign.
Poetae Opus May 2018
I find no evolution when,
My hand slides over my stomach,
And tries to reach a Heaven,
Followed by
A Dumbness instead;

I find myself
Caught in a wire when,
My throat claims
To be the Queen of the Air,
And bestows her *****,
In order to be admired,

For Plants smile at her,
And say:
“You are the one who,
Make us aspire,
To a better realm”

So much Patience,
I have worked out,

But such a red shadow surrounds me still,
For I can beat up myself,
Against the same wall,
And never uplift my eyes,
To a new world;

So much Fever,
I have embraced,

But there is no worst illness,
Than the one carried on our soul,

Whereas ****** & Songs aren’t enough,
To fill up such a Hole;

However,
I’m still being the Ocean,
Every Galleon sails out,

For my Future won’t change my Past,
But my Present will set up my nails,
If I get concentrated well;

Everyday a new life is born,
So the chance to start over
Always remains open,

In which I’ll never fall
Into my old abyss,

For Thorns & Tears are singing
A black psalm,
Awaiting for anyone to be down
And becoming them part of the Choir,
By the illusion
To make them feel Pride.
Poetae Opus Jun 2017
I know,
I can navigate,
On the ocean's quietness;

On these blue waters,
I only see your face,
Through dark waves;

The next shore is still afar,
From my reach,

And I swear that,
One day,
I will arrive there;

Many navigators aspire,
To swim in the ocean,

But they ignore,
How deep it is,

For it's unwise to get,
Rather than seeing;

And my soul is still finding,
His own reign,

But the Blindness still persists,
Like a sweet honey,
Ready to eat;

How much long,
Might I still wait,
For I realize,
About my way?
Poetae Opus Apr 2018
On the dance of my senses,
I can visualize,
The Hymn of the future;

No novelty will ever be born,
Unless we all acquire a deep knowledge,
Of our own;

No fashion will ever start,
If we’re not happy,
With our clothes, salary, house,
Or suchlike;

There is no worst prison,
Than the one carried on,
Our mind;

In which a taboo is a barrier,
That impedes,
The growth of our soul,

And goes against,
The beauty of life,
We all are led,
To make it bright;

Only my laugh can take me
To the unknown!

Whereas Purity is the Spirit’s Honesty,
To get rid of its thorns,

And wants to break free,
By being alive
And enjoying such a gift!
Poetae Opus Jun 2017
So I've started to go
Through your well-shaped curls,

Whereas your smile is the doorway,
To amiable encounters;

I believe,
My going-under will help me,
To understand your love,

And also to reveal me that,
My pathway is already established;

So I'll keep going on my search!

Wherever I find the red torch,
I will transform it
Into a flesh hand,

In which,
Not even the wise will be able to deny,
How to build a temple,
Among the bedclothes;

A love prophecy will be written
On a lover's skin,
Whereas many doves will soar
To the new land,
And make a statue
With the seed of pleasure;

A dance is whispering in my ears,
And on your blood,

The swaying rose is opening her petals.
Poetae Opus Jun 2020
On the seashore,
I see how,
An auspicious eggshell
Opens itself,
And manifests
Its multicolor pamphlets,
Along the smiling Naiad who
Holds a silver scepter;

A flying kiss emerges,
From her mouth,
And hands me,
A purple scroll,
Containing the story,
Of our most sacred Joy;

Like a Conqueror who's got,
A Cross imprinted on his forehead;

The wind & the sun
Welcome my steps,
Before the blue waves,

And the sand awakes some statues,
To show me her new saints.
Poetae Opus Nov 2018
Not a black hole,
But a horn will
Fulfill my oath,
Along this scorching road;

Inspired by such carefree eyes,
I arise my voice,
Through a silence that'll
Set free my word,
Across this colorful sea;

How many times do we
Strike to follow,
Such a promised land,
That is still afar?

How many time do we
Break our spine,
To get such a reward,
That's never enough?

Is it possible to look
Inside of us,
And find such a key,
That will open,
The gates of our treasure?

So peacefully, the life goes on,
Awaiting for someone to awake,
To their true fate;

So calmly, the hours pass on,
Whereas every minute symbolizes,
Everyone's desire;

In which no more tears are able,
To be wept,

And a laugh & a song are willing,
To console,
A grievous thorn.
Poetae Opus Jul 2017
If I'm still swimming over blue flames;
If I'm still feeling such a red desire that,
Will never stop,
To grasp my heart;

How may I not transform,
The wickedness into Purity?

If I'm still having joy,
Among the children of God,
In order to nourish my spirit,
For I'm called to fly,
Through new lands;

How may I not write
A new omen,
In the warm air?

If I have already acquired
A new revelation for the Invisible,
And all that is holy and beautiful within;

How may I not dance
On old graves,
As well as,
On ruined churches?

I  know,
I will never give up on Eternity,

For I'm not another creature,
That lives to die alone;

Along many lives,
I have gone on ,
To realize that,

It's not a sin to have joy for beauty,
But instead,
It is a sin to pervert it.
Poetae Opus Jul 2018
A myriad of dreams flows,
Upon my future,

But I’m still reluctant,
To take such a prize,
That has been set up;

Is it such a resistance,
To acknowledge my true self,
I would rather hide
In my sloth?

Is it such a pressure,
To get it all done that,
I know not when,
Will it be the next post?

Unfortunately,
What my body can conceal is,
The present of a dreadful night,

In which,
Purple ghosts gamble
On my room’s table,
And figure out what task would
Come next;

Unfortunately,
My sweat is of a thirsty worker,
Whose hands compress,
The labor of a better life,

In which,
Salt & water give birth
Another minute for,
A nostalgia,
That is written
On a dusty scroll;

Yet God remains on his Throne,
Expecting me to find,
The key of the Light;

He longs to make some music thereof,
Whereas,
If he could dance,
Everyone would be a believer.
Poetae Opus Dec 2017
I feel surrounded,
By a weeping frame;

I no longer lust,
Any dripping blast;

The night is coming up,
And her kisses drag me,
Upon crawling dreams,
I no longer wanna live,

But,
Being on balance is,
The key of Evolution,

In which,
Written by the sweat of my soul,
My senses will be reborn,
In the rise of a purple storm.
Poetae Opus Nov 2018
Let the mystery dance,
At the top of your breast!

Whereas the angels roar,
And the cross leans on your soul!

Let the moon awake,
On you head!

Whereas your eyes glow,
And your skin shapes your sword!

Even the slightest needle would
Go across your fingers,
And write a prophecy,
On the walls of your bedroom,

In which no disciple will blaspheme,
To the storm;

May Temptation be your servant when,
Every day becomes red;

May your tears be your salvation when,
Every song gets,
Your priesthood's grace,

For a caress cannot be revealed,
If it does not cleanse,
The wind's dirt!
Poetae Opus May 2018
Overlooked by a red Goddess,
I’ve been invited
To reveal such a sun,
Which is hidden
In my purple veins;

What a wild dance,
Shaking off an angel’s oath!

What a freaking wolf,
Howling in the ******
Of a Dionysian Festival!

Whereas all bodies join
Their fragrance,
Through their blue sweat!

And the blood becomes
One with the Whole,

Which gives birth
A soft laughter,

So Love cannot be deceived,
By oneself’s chastity;

What would be more pleasant,
Than any dream come true?

What would be more liberating,
Than any emotion break free,

In which not even a hero will resist,
To look over his scratching reflection?

So patient,
My heart remains,
To nourish the fantasies,
This world pertains,

Whereas no longer a wasp will
Be able to spread
Her poisonous sting,
Among the herd;

So calm,
My eyes foresee
The future,

And they remind me,
That even the smallest creature represents
A life,
Which is about
To become,

So Destiny is not
A mere Choice,
We all make up;

It is the life itself,
We all choose,
To dwell,

Whereas flesh and bones nurture
Our Own.
Poetae Opus Jul 2019
Standing on an endless- motion field;

I abide the hour,
In which the Old Mother will
Break free,
From her melancholy;

How many tears has she cried,
While seeing her children,
Running blind,
Through the Forest,
Of the Wild!

How many kisses has she spread,
For new heroes to come,
While the old ones remain slothful,
And lack all kind,
Of warlike honor!

Patience is a lullaby,
Among white souls,

In which my time holds every minute,
To disappear among blue roses,

For everyday,
A new life is born,
To take shape,
In everyone's legs.
Poetae Opus May 2018
What a jubilant wind,
Giving birth
A three-head creature,

In which her eyes get
The Divine naked!

What a rough kiss,
Setting
On her pale skin,

In which the Sweetness
Of her mouth
Becomes a Hymn
Of an intense Desire!

A red song rules
Over her soul,
And no one is willing
To rest,
Until the last chorus is finished,
And the crescendo spared!

For Creation does reside
On Pleasure,
And they both know,
How to sway,
And be loved;

On the road to my Fate,
I can only survive
By recalling,
I’m still part
Of such a dance;

The rain gets everyone wet,
But the water sprinkled is what,
This earth requires,
To get swelled,

Whereas all fragrances become,
The air that is breathed,

And the necessity to be satisfied when,
We need it.
Poetae Opus Jun 2017
Behold your eyes,
I only draw a smile,
That will remain,
In your heart

Behold my steps,
I only draw a present,
That will create,
My fate;

An inspiration will never be enough,
To unveil,
The beauty secrets,

And how I wish
To get God naked!

May the world be,
The conquest field when,

A hidden emperor manifests
His wisdom,
Upon the common;

May an unshaken love be,
The golden anchor when,

My eyes penetrate,
A plastic armor's seal

Even along the daily routine,

The holiness will survive,
If we know how,
To cleanse our mind;

Whereas,
From fire to fire,

Death will only be,
A dancer in the wind.
Poetae Opus Jan 2018
Dragging myself,
Upon my thorns,
Crying blood was all,
That I've done;

Such Eagerness of mine,
To create,
Some Excitement in life
Led me,
How to be reborn,
By enjoying my spoil!

I know the opposites are necessary,
But being inclined on one side is
Like an abyss,
We choose to fall down;

In which,
My past is still haunting me,
Like a snake surrounding my neck;

I'm able to change it all;
Such an Energy given to me is
A gift that will never cease,
To lift me up;

Whereas being at peace is,
My key to exist;

Only my eyes will reveal,
Such a spirit that's behind
Every deed!

For I will never end up,
Among fragile desires!
Poetae Opus Mar 2018
I’m jumping over brakes and wheels,
In which Betrayal is a reminder,
To forget a Warning;

I’m dancing over yellow glasses,
In which a mistake has been replaced,
By such a Grace;

There isn’t any commitment able,
To run over empty dreams,

And no flower blossoms,
On a scattered ground;

I can only survive when,
I’m between the wind and the sun,

Whereas my senses are more aware of disguises,
And my inner voice assembles a new future,

So I’ll never be broken down,
By any worm-soul,

For Life isn’t a torture,
I conceive to live in;

It is a Fate that goes,
Beyond my own,

In which my body joins,
With the breeze of the All.
Poetae Opus Sep 2017
Through the dance of your caress,
I only contemplate,
Your need to be loved;

The paradise that appears,
Between your flesh and your soul,
Is like a call of life,
Which is able to sway,
Upon my heart;

One step will be enough,
To start such a new dance,
Whereas my senses are already alive,
To feel you inside!

But I want this communion being mutual,
For it is not fair,
To create a new life,
Without a spark!
Poetae Opus Jul 2017
I awake to a new dawn,
In which,
A siren's smile is the bridgeway
Of my dance;

How I crave,
To fulfill my fate!

Between a caress and a dagger,
I can only die,
Among my ashes;

Between a candlelight and a shade,
I can only draw the flesh,
That is nourished,
By my body;

The hatred comes up when,
There are better ways,
To soar the sky,

In which,
The being gets linked
With the red goddess,
In order to initiate
A ritual;

And now,

Just an herald will be able to shout,

The new Heaven's pathway.
Poetae Opus Dec 2019
On the stairs,
Of the Altar,
I only see one Hope,
Rising up,
To an unmoving Wheel;

Behold,
Statues smile,
At the unfaithful Clown,

For his grinning is not enough,
To shake the dust off his nose;

Behold,
Six candles illuminate
The Devotion,
Everyone wishes,
To get,

And Silence pronounces a yellow whisper,
To open up devotees' eyes,
And to make them look after
Their strongest science;

Meanwhile,
I'm still sit right here,
And enjoying the company,
Of a purple breeze.
Poetae Opus May 2017
Mountain of Flesh,
Breath of Spirit;

Even in celibacy,
I cannot forget such dancing
Around my skin.

Even in dreams,
I cannot sing the Psalm of Grace,
In which the thorn is swept aside
To give birth
A new love in my heart.

Could I contemplate your glory,
And not desiring
Whichever my mouth eats?

Could I get caressed by your hand,
And do not long
My demon devours you?

Just a smile can draw a destiny
Which is marked by two living islands;

Just a blood drop can restore a wasted life
Which was lived among acid and poison ivy.

Sometimes,
It's better to get drowned
Into the Well of Serpents to know that,

Living in the body is not the way,
To become exceptional,

And also to realize that,
The arrogance is like an ape
Pretending to be a god.

The pleasure will be embracing such a way,
Our vision Is transforming our souls.
Poetae Opus Aug 2019
Let my body swim,
Across the white lake,
Whereas the waters smile,
And the fish spoil themselves!

Let my soul be unveiled,
By the Earth's dance,
And the trees' mess!

For a nymph cannot be seduced,
By a poet's unworthiness,

So no song will be performed,
Until the sky becomes red,
And the air knocks out my shame!
Poetae Opus Jan 2019
May the dance keep moving,
For endless pleasure flows,
In the gain of Wisdom!

On a smiling air's caress,
Sweaty bodies display their love,

And the song they perform is,
The hymn to a Goddess,
Giving birth,
On their skins,

May Selfishness not interfere,
In such process of being shaped;

May Laugh smooth,
Such a mystery of Intimacy,

For Human Spirit gets,
Its true appearance when,
It builds a Temple,
In a four-wall bedroom;

So may the Instinct awake,
In the ritual
Of a red shade!
Poetae Opus Mar 2020
Let's lay on the Altar,
To submerge our breaths,
In the mist,
Of our atmosphere!

Let's praise Glory,
For delivering herself,
Onto a melting body!

The rise of Life
Dances
On a singing soul,

To show others that,
Even a broken rose
Can be fixed
By a swinging tongue;

Let's awake the Alchemy within!
Whereas a storm and a thunder join each other,
To create a green field;

Evolution resides on,
Make Trinity contemplate,
The arousal of swaying!
Poetae Opus Jun 2017
On the silence,
My heart is shouting;

Perhaps a new inspiration is,
A new picture,
Of my existence;

I'm still desiring,
A new sword,
To make my Fate,

But I still need to know when,
Should I throw my golden seeds;

I won't create,
Angels of plastic,
Anymore;

The voice that surrounds my body,
Doesn't make any difference,
Between Beauty and Spirit;


The blood that makes,
My soul dancing,
Does not create a barrier,
Between the gods and the poets;

Just an illusion can get me,
A unique style,
To waste it,
Among the herd,

But my eyes are still smiling,
For now I know that,
Everyone is able,
To find their way,

And yet to see changes,
Across from them;

So now on,

The wisdom is singing,
Among the flowers.
Poetae Opus May 2017
On the silence,
My heart is shouting loudly;

Perhaps a new inspiration is a new picture,
Of my existence;

I'm still desiring a new sword,
To make my Fate,

But I still need to know when,
Should I throw my golden seeds;

I won't create angels of plastic anymore;

The voice that surrounds my body,
Doesn't make any difference,
Between Beauty and Spirit;

The blood that makes my soul dancing,
Does not create a barrier,
Between the Gods and the Poets;

Just an illusion can get me a unique style,
To waste it among the herd,

But my eyes are still smiling,
For now I know,
That everyone is able to find their way;

And yet to see,
The changes across from them;

So now on,
The wisdom is singing among the flowers.

— The End —