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Douglas Oliveira May 2013
No,
You would never dare
Pull that trigg...
Douglas Oliveira May 2013
Just
LIKE me
And I
will love you
Douglas Oliveira May 2013
There is no more reason for tears,
The fight is over.
The flames cannot burn on the ashes.
The volcano is dead
It succumbed to the heat from its own lava,
Melted from inside and then
Evaporated into the air,
Like a man who loves and dies.
Like me and you.

But there is a war, I know.
A war without battle,
Without fight,
With no winners
And no  loosers,
A war with neither "rights" nor "wrongs".
A war drifted by the waves of  time
On a battlefield where everybody
And everything which exist
Simply dance
And dance,
Composing this eternal motion
Where nothing is either absolute
Or obsolete
But merely an purely
Beautiful.
Douglas Oliveira May 2013
London is inside his house
London is white,
He is white, and blond, and has beautiful pair of blue eyes.
London love himself,
Love thinking about himself
And see his reflection on the mirror.
But London hardly never looks through the window
And when he does he hates what sees,
And he sees London,
And London is completely different from him,
He has black hair, and black skin, and dark eyes,
And this is enough to London conclude that London stinks.

But, outside, London knows he doesn't stink
And he couldn't care less about London's blond hair, white skin and blue eyes,
He doesn't like those eyes
He says they are ugly
Because they judge through what they see.
But, infact, he doesn't think they are ugly
Deep in his mind he thinks they stink
Stink for nothing else but for being different.

So London is not really better than London
Because London hates London,
But London hates London in the same way,
So they are the same
They think they are different,
But they are exactly the same;
And they  look at each other
But they can only see themselves,
Because all their lives are about themselves;
And if they can see only themselves
They can only say that themselves stink.

And that is what they do
All the time

But London is not only black and white
And neither as gray as people think,
London has the seven colours of the rainbow
Plus brown and some kind of reddish greenish aeneous colour
Which  doesn't even have a name.
And London has many sizes too
So it's very difficult to fit London inside London
Because London is larger on the  inside than the outside.
Others even say that London is inside out,
That London is too old to be fashion,
But London laughs
And replies innovating
And saying that he has never being inside out;
Maybe, in his most, a little bit outside in.

Definitely, London is not affraid of anyone,
He knows his history is not just in the past
Because London makes history as he goes.
And London is good,
And London  receives everybody from anywhere with his open arms,
Because the rain has never forbidden London from being warm
And if in some places the sun shines everyday
In London the sun shines at night
Because London doesn't sleep.
Never sleeps.

But, unfortunately, not everybody is like London,
And while London is so kind and human,
London is completely opposite.
London was born in London
And think London belong only to himself.
London doesn't like those who come from overseas,
London dislike anything which comes from abroad.
London hates curry,
London even hates the smell of curry
But he eats curry anyway,
because he doesn't have his own food.
And London is powerful
And he doesn't want to see anyone stealing his job,
Polluting his city,
Breathing his air.
So one day London simply decide that London must go
So London  makes up rules to send London away,
And now London are not allowed to work anymore.
But London doesn't want to go,
So London hide from London in the inner of London
And in there he survives,
Sometimes using of ilegal papers in legal jobs,
Others doing ilegal jobs without any papers.
But London survives,
Survives to hate London and all his power,
Survives to sell drugs,
To sell his body,
To sell other's people body,
To **** and steal.
Indeed, London has his own reasons to hate London;
For long years he had being  bullied and harassed,
And for more than one decade he had to hide like a rat for being chased like a rat.
More than one decade of humiliation.
Definitely, that wasn't the pain London wanted  to feel,
That was the pain London wanted to spread,
Like  he used to do when he was in his own country
And like he will do again
As soon as he hide from London long enough to be part of him,
Part of all his power
Part of his ideology and intolerance.

And this is going to happen,
Inevitably it is going to happen,
Soon or later;
Because London is not so different from London,
Actually they are the same.
They are London,
We are London,
Its walls and as well his flesh,
And, inside London,
For London
We fight London;
And it is a beautiful fight,
Because London has strength,
Because London wins,
London always wins
And if we don't see his victory
It is just because the fight is still not over.
Because London reborns from ashes
Like we know happened before.

So here I stand,
Watching the fighter of the fog
Unveiling the art of his movements
In this epic  battle
For an empty cause.
Here I stand with tears in my eyes,
Waiting for the moment in which London
Will choke on the champagne of his victory,
Because I know London will win.
Because London  always win,
But now, for the first time,
London will also loose.
Douglas Oliveira May 2013
Everybody
Needs
Help
Douglas Oliveira May 2013
Silence
Is not aloud.
Douglas Oliveira May 2013
.  
.    
And
Unwritten
Douglas Oliveira May 2013
I can't believe you are here now,
Reading my verses.
You, Writer, who looks skeptically at anything
Which doesn't come from you.
You, Writer, who can appreciate only the words
That come from your own pen
Or from the pen of the dead.
While you adore corpses
Your brothers and sisters
Stay here
Unreaded,
Despised
For you
And for me,
Because I am not better than you.
But maybe together
We can be better
And give to ours friends
More than merely "likes"
In theirs shortest verses,
Because is what our lazyness
Allowed is to read.
Maybe together we can strength
Our verses
Our hearts
And-hour by hour-
All the world.

— The End —