#victor
You pinned my moment
with crafted thought and wisdom,
and I left my work undone.
I felt a kiss
from an invisible mouth
that questioned no one.
Feb 15
Feb 15, 2026 at 2:09 PM UTC
O Testamento do Xisto e da Vide
Em memória de António Alexandre Marques
No anfiteatro de pedra, onde o tempo se demora,
O sol, monarca de brasa, se deita e cora;
Amadurece o bago, inflama-se o horizonte,
Enquanto o passado murmura na água da fonte.
Sou herdeiro do gesto, do suor e da lida,
Onde a vide é o mastro que sustenta a vida.
Subo socalcos, degraus para o céu,
Rasgando a névoa que o Douro faz véu.
Revejo as mãos de meu pai calos de memória,
E o rasto do avô gravado na história.
Não plantaram apenas bagos na terra agreste:
Semearam raízes no xisto celeste.
Nas veias do rio, onde o xisto é senhor,
Consagro o meu passo, herdeiro da dor.
De um pai que foi tronco, de um avô que foi feliz,
Num reino de Baco que o silêncio bendiz.
António Alexandre, no plano invisível,
Vigia o lagar num zelo indizível.
Oitenta e dois faria, se o fado deixasse,
Mas vive no vinho que em mim renasce.
O frio do granito acolhe o meu passo,
No ventre da adega, em terno abraço.
Onde o bago se rompe, o mistério se expande:
Não há força humana que ali não comande.
Pisa-se a uva, esmaga-se o medo,
Extraindo da casca o mais íntimo segredo.
E as flores da encosta, no odor do engaço,
Dão alma ao perfume que marca o meu traço.
Assisto ao milagre: a vide que chora,
Lágrima pura que a terra devora.
É o sangue dos velhos, místico e profundo,
Que pulsa no centro secreto do mundo.
Não guio apenas a pena ou o arado,
Sou eco vivente de um tempo sagrado.
Se o pai partiu num Setembro de luz,
Cada Novembro o meu verso o traduz.
Sou o Vigneron, o bardo da vinha,
Buscando na terra a rima divina.
O passado é lume, o presente é a lenha,
O futuro é a marca que o Douro desenha.
Nada se apaga no reino do pai:
Onde a vida se colhe, a morte se esvai.
Neste império sagrado de pedra e de fé,
O que foi Alexandre... Victor ainda o é.
Victor Marques
Feb 13
Feb 13, 2026 at 8:02 AM UTC
Dizem que o Douro é uma paisagem moldada pelo homem, mas quem lá nasce sabe a verdade: é o Douro que nos molda a nós.
Eu não olho para estes socalcos como quem vê um postal. Eu vejo-os como quem lê as cicatrizes na palma da própria mão. Nasci a 27 de novembro sob o signo do rigor e da entrega, e desde então o meu sangue corre no mesmo ritmo que o rio.
Ser Vigneron aqui não é um cargo, é um destino. É saber que o vinho que hoje corre no copo começou a ser desenhado há muitos anos atrás, no suor dos animais, no apito do comboio que levava os nossos rapazes e no peso heróico dos cestos de verga. O mundo lá fora corre, grita e muda. Mas aqui, entre a videira e o rio, o tempo tem outro compasso.
Escrevi estas palavras porque o vinho tem voz, mas às vezes precisa que alguém lhe empreste os pulmões. O que vão ouvir não é apenas um poema... é o eco de uma ferradura que ainda bate no meu peito.
Sou Xisto, Sou Vinho
Não sou apenas homem sou raiz e sou pedra,
Nascido no socalco onde o silêncio medra.
O meu olhar não vê só a videira a brotar,
Vê séculos de brio que a montanha quis guardar.
O Douro é um livro com páginas de xisto,
Onde escrevo, com a poda, o que ainda não foi dito.
Vi aldeias vibrantes, o pulsar da vida inteira,
Quando a mão era o compasso e a única medida.
Lembro o comboio o apito a rasgar o vale,
Levando o rapaz, o seu sotaque banal.
E o bater dos cascos ferro vivo contra o chão,
Música antiga de força, suor e devoção.
Nas fontes velhas, o bicho matava o cansaço,
Enquanto o sol, no horizonte, se partia em pedaço.
Machos e mulas, o dorso em pura tensão,
Abriam sulcos de esperança na face da nação.
O cesto às costas? Era o peso do destino,
Levado por homens de passo firme e divino.
Muitos anos passaram, o mundo ali acelerou,
Mas o vinho que eu faço... esse nunca mudou.
Porque no meu copo vive a velha ferradura,
O frescor da fonte e a da minha doçura.
Sou Vigneron, guardião desta memória antiga,
Transformo o passado no vinho que me abriga.
Victor Marques
Douro
Portugal
Feb 1
Feb 1, 2026 at 4:11 AM UTC
May Putin be crushed and his nuclear threat exposed an empty bluff
May Russians see themselves the true Nazis
And in true need of salvation than Ukrainians ever were
May the shattered save the mighty and the mighty serve the victor
Apr 25, 2022
Apr 25, 2022 at 11:39 PM UTC
Divine might through hinesight.
Unsure of what I could've done to make it right.
Mistakes, tragedies, my past is a blight.
Struggles, suffering.
I did my best to win the fight.
Hope, happiness, all lost in the dust.
Memories scrambled, diluted with lust.
All of my efforts corrupted with rust.
All in all, my life is a bust.
Looking back now, my faith has been lost.
My hopes and dreams have been trampled and tossed.
What do you do when all lines have been crossed?
Tell me now, where do I stand?
The truth, the answers are what I demand.
I've fallen so far, so where will I land?
Lord, reach out. Let me fall in your hand.
Get it together. Its all in the past.
Your trials and tribulations are not going to last.
Your burdens and heartbreak need to be cast.
Do not dawdle, you need to act fast.
You know your purpose.
You know your role.
Your faith and your power aren't defeated.
They have not become null.
You know, you've seen.
The light that's within.
You know the truth.
You know who will win.
You are the victor
over your sin.
Take action, be strong and take part.
Its not a game, its a demonstration, an art.
Show them your power, you're not foolish, you're smart.
Aim at the bullseye and unleash your dart.
Oct 21, 2020
Oct 21, 2020 at 7:56 AM UTC
Abundant Blessings Continue,
Descending Endlessly From God.
Happy Is Jesus, King Like Melchizedek,
Nary Other Potentate, Qualified Ransom,
Savior Triumphant, Universal Victor.
Wholeheartedly Express Your Zeal!
Oct 28, 2019
Oct 28, 2019 at 9:21 PM UTC
the battle was
and yes i saw
a tempest
to tell to all
not a victor here
nor a conquered
just a soul not dead
Zeus was called upon
and failed
the Titans were called upon
and failed
men fought unaided
as always
Jul 8, 2019
Jul 8, 2019 at 3:58 AM UTC
There isn’t a day I didn’t hope
To come out of the delusions
The world has thrown at me.
Every day has been a struggle
For something more than just survival
More than just success
And it was to be loved.
I’ve given my all in every situation
To come out victorious as well as good
Yet here I am
Still feeling as miserable as ever
Breathing less and less freely
Surrounded by success
That had the stench of darkness
Which strengthened with every surmounted endeavor of my life
For no matter how hard I’ve been trying
To be a good guy
I still feel like
I’m living in a delusional world
Where I’ll forever be the one
Everybody
Loves to hate
Hugs to steal
Talks to trick
Touches to taint
And possibly do much more
Than my eyes can make out.
I have no clue as to why
I can’t overcome this growing feeling
That is evolving into a severe reality
With each passing day.
But after so many years of pain
I think I finally know the answer.
Not all success stories can be treasured
Only the ones that hearts feel affection for.
Though I’ve changed a lot
Maybe I’m still wanting to be
Loved or hugged too hard
Talked or touched too much
And maybe it’s time
For me to stop trying to be good
And start trying to be who I am.
May 18, 2019
May 18, 2019 at 3:03 AM UTC
I don't know who this is for,
Who's address I would put on the envelope.
I have a few people in mind,
But I don't know if sending this to them would be the best idea.
I guess it's an open letter to my younger self.
My 15 year old self who was thrown into chaos,
Who walked into a crowd of scheming, malicious friends.
Friends? You ask.
Yes they were my friends,
And they fought,
And stole,
And clawed their way to the top of a power structure,
Just to have it all tumbling down.
I was there the entire time.
Never clawing,
Or climbing,
Just trying to hold everyone together,
Keep everyone' s peace of mind,
While I lost my own.
What they never realized,
What I barely realized,
Was that as they played the game,
Learned the rules,
Learned to win and lose,
I forgot those rules.
Forgot is too nice,
I ignored them.
I lost my head making sure everyone kept theirs,
And when the dust settled,
When everyone took off their masks and assessed the damage,
I was there.
At the top
Alone.
No one noticed,
They were to busy pointing fingers.
While they were busy throwing metaphorical stones and spears,
I was placing land mines,
And trip wires.
At the end of the day,
When the battle was over,
It was me and me alone at the top.
The victor,
The one who had amassed all the power and influence my friends were desperately trying to hold on to.
I am still here,
Pondering my morality,
Pondering how ******* lonely it is.
Because while they built the pedestal,
Put me on top of it,
And surrendered without even realizing it,
They also isolated themselves from me.
And me from them.
And they have yet to realize the war they have lost.
While they were busy throwing insults,
Calling each other monsters,
They never even looked at me,
Or noticed me.
I sat there,
The most power hungry,
Conniving,
And ambitious one of all.
I sat at the top,
And no one even noticed.
So to my 15 year old self,
Who was thrown into the fire,
And learned to lie,
And cheat,
And steal,
Who learned to not only survive,
But conquer them all-
I notice you.
And I fear the day you get to show your true colors again.
Apr 4, 2019
Apr 4, 2019 at 3:04 PM UTC
Stop trying to be the hero in someone else’s story.
Be your own **** hero in your beautifully messy story.
Jan 17, 2019
Jan 17, 2019 at 9:07 PM UTC
Masakit na nakaraan,
tayo'y kapwa mayroon.
Syang dahilan ng ating takot,
Huwag ng balikan, bagkus
Sa isa't isa halina't kumuha
ng bagong lakas,
ng bagong simula,
at ng bagong pag ibig.
Tila sinadya ng tadhana,
Tayo'y sinaktan at tinuruan muna,
Upang sa araw ng pagtatagpo,
Kapwa tayong nakahanda.
May dahilan ang lahat, ika nga.
Ilang sulok na ba ng mundo,
Ang ating nilakbay?
Ilang tao na ba ang sinubukan
kilalanin at sinugalan?
Gaano karaming luha na ba,
ang pumatak at naubos?
Ilang beses na ba?
At ilang beses pa ba?
Nandito na ako, hindi ba?
Nandito ka na rin,
Nandito na tayo,
Palalagpasin pa ba?
Sa malayuan, mananalangin na lang ba?
Sa malayo, mangangarap na lang ba?
Aasa na lang ba sa malayo?
Magmamahal na lang ba sa malayo?
Hanggang sa malayo na lang ba ang lahat?
Humawak ka lang sa akin,
Pangako, hindi kita bibitawan.
Buksan mo ang iyong mata,
ang ganda ng bagong pagkakataon,
pangako, ipapakita ko sayo.
Maaari ka rin pumikit,
Damahin mo ang aking haplos,
pangako, ikaw lang ang mamahalin
pangako, sa iyo, ako'y tapat.
Huwag ka ng matakot, mahal ko.
Tayo'y magtiwala sa Diyos,
Sapagkat Siya ang may akda,
Ng istorya ng ating pagtatagpo,
Ng kwento ng ating pagmamahalan.
Huwag kang sumuko, mahal ko.
Huwag tayong susuko, mahal kita.
Feb 3, 2018
Feb 3, 2018 at 8:44 AM UTC
Every day and every night were the same,
sunshine and street lamps, I see them lame,
people and places, frozen in one lane,
That was life before Victor came.
Alone, no more I was.
Eyes, mine sparkled on a bliss.
Love, driven me joyfully insane,
That was life when Victor came.
So distant we may seem to be,
Patience is ours to befriend,
as Faith is ours to possess,
for the situation’s never a game.
I lost you by then,
heart was broken to the power of ten.
Prayer was my refuge,
Tears as sanctuary, they became.
Realizations invaded my insanity,
lessons learned returned me to sanity.
Grateful to have loved a man such way,
such person, ever since Victor came.
Oct 27, 2015
Oct 27, 2015 at 9:12 PM UTC
Smoothing out my imperfections
Lessons learned from past rejections
How can he develop, when it hurt so bad
To reflect upon the times, he fell
And he knows
That he doesn't know where to go
He knows where he's been
Forgiven his sins
Now is time to begin,
Anew
A mistake in progress
An object to forget
Trying to improve
But not done yet
Despite the hate,
A tidal wave
Gasping for air
It's just not the same
Now he must start, again
Rinse and repeat
March in defeat
He's learnt time and again
There's no substitute for the mentor
Called pain
Jan 30, 2017
Jan 30, 2017 at 1:45 AM UTC
You've been away, a while
I didn't miss you
You promised to stay
But I didn't kiss you
You held my hand
and my neck too
Hello again, you return every while
Why do you?
After all the lows
You've put me through
You still think you'll win
You have no clue!
I listen to my heart
But to my mind too
I listen to my soul
To ME, not to you
Jan 10, 2017
Jan 10, 2017 at 1:39 PM UTC
He sleeps. An enigma, his life bereft -
He lived then died once his angel had left.
It happened as simply as anything might,
As from day there follows the coming of night.
Jan 9, 2017
Jan 9, 2017 at 12:22 PM UTC
I'm used to being loved and ignored
But I never experienced being hated
Perhaps you receive what you give
Hating someone is out of my league
'Cos I believe respect must live
But then again
No one can escape judgment from other people
And that's (not) okay
People will jugde and hurt you,
Over and over again
You'll be the gist of their fun
Their game made of insecurities,
lack of knowledge,
a bottle of pride,
and an empty box of respect.
Never give in.
Let them play their game
But never ever play with them.
**** them with silence.
And by that;
You will always be the victor.
Nov 20, 2016
Nov 20, 2016 at 8:26 AM UTC
It's a tale of revolution and dread
Where most characters wind up dead
Some end up insane
Some end up in the Seine
And all of this over some bread
May 12, 2016
May 12, 2016 at 6:01 PM UTC
The wind is blowing tirelessly,
Delicate flowers are falling,
Branches are all shaking vigorously,
And I learn something from them,
No matter how hard the wind may blow,
They only move,
They don't change their shapes and colours,
The flowers may fall but at some point they allow the same wind to blow them into the sky and make them fly.
So I learn that hard situations shouldn't change who we are,
We only need to adjust our attitudes,
Struggles are there to make you a victor,
Like the flower being made to fly by what brought it down,
You let your struggles elevate you.
Oct 17, 2015
Oct 17, 2015 at 12:29 AM UTC
Demain, dès l’aube, à l’heure où blanchit la campagne,
Je partirai. Vois-tu, je sais que tu m’attends.
J’irai par la forêt, j’irai par la montagne.
Je ne puis demeurer **** de toi plus longtemps.
Je marcherai les yeux fixés sur mes pensées,
Sans rien voir au dehors, sans entendre aucun bruit,
Seul, inconnu, le dos courbé, les mains croisées,
Triste, et le jour pour moi sera comme la nuit.
Je ne regarderai ni l’or du soir qui tombe,
Ni les voiles au **** descendant vers Harfleur,
Et quand j’arriverai, je mettrai sur ta tombe
Un bouquet de houx vert et de bruyère en fleur.
Sep 23, 2015
Sep 23, 2015 at 7:42 PM UTC
Skin as pale as lilies,
now livid with interrupted bloom.
Bruises as dark as that Irish lake,
five of them, of a brutish nightshade hue.
Body as limp as the towel they used to rub you warm to no avail,
dotted over with dirt, your shirt torn through.
Eyes as vacant as the echo in a tomb,
once blue before, now glazed over with vitreous dew.
Oh Clerval, how I have forsaken you.
Feb 17, 2015
Feb 17, 2015 at 5:33 PM UTC
(Inspired by my great grandfather)
Capt: Albert Victor Champion RHA
Children of the Somme, men of mud and water
killed by lead and steel, for them no last supper
no last meal. Children of the Somme, consumed
by mud and water, sent in there thousands
to their slaughter.
Nerves that were shattered,breath that was shallow
felled in fields that were lifeless and fallow.
Hearts that were pounding, bodies that trembled
as in the trenches men assembled.
like an order from god they awaited there place,
to go over the top and stare death in the face.
Men of all nations men of all ages; condemned
to there death and the history books pages.
Lest we forget..................... Remember them.
Jan 22, 2015
Jan 22, 2015 at 9:50 AM UTC
I am science, I am fiction,
Victorian youth, ***** addiction,
I am addicted, no rest for the wicked,
I am not what these glorious stories depicted,
I prayed for my mother, I asked for a saviour,
But scarlet’s a varlet and I couldn’t save her,
Faith laughed at my pleading but science was pliable,
Boundaries were broken, I made fact unreliable,
Doctor! Doctor! Blood’s beginning to boil,
As you work by the light of the Tesla coil,
You’re polite, once contrite, not particularly odd,
Now you’re trapped in your lab and you’re playing at God,
You were robbed of a woman, held hands with her breath,
Your disillusion excluded you, so you made life out of death,
And the blood and the ****** and the bruises on throats,
And the ghost of a sibling that grasps at my coat,
And I strived for ‘it’s alive’ but that’s a misquote,
It was never alive, that was not what I wrote!
It was pale and abhorrent, thread unraveled it’s head,
It’s lips moved but I knew it was made from parts of the dead,
Graves invaded, made empty, just so it could rise,
My shovels were broken, decriminalised,
My secrets unspoken were hard to ignore,
And it was only myself, since there was no Igor,
And my brother was gone, my father, my wife,
So if you seek to threaten me, be it with life,
Nothing left, I fear no death, in fact I seek it with vigour,
But I am no mad scientist B-List horror movie figure,
I am bigger, I am bloodless, I am the lightening’s whine,
I am all that befalls the name of Frankenstein,
I’m disturbed, I’m depraved, afflicted with my plan,
But above all I am only a conflicted young man,
And I cannot compete with tainted world’s so dark and neat,
So call me Victor as I retreat,
I am the monster I must complete.
Dec 20, 2014
Dec 20, 2014 at 3:24 PM UTC