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Fernanda Lyra Nov 2019
We all want so badly to keep eternal
holding memories of loss inside of us
but this violence surrounding us
made even traces of love immoral

We all want to keep fresh faces
inside the voids of our pill minds
remember all the ones we embraced
but the fog will swallow then inside

We all want to have beloved ones
inside the pictures, recorded files
and may distance can seem unreal
but in this divided world of surreal
this memories will punish our smiles
Fernanda Lyra Nov 2019
Family is a sick metaphor
wherever I go they are
inside of my lungs and more
still alone I'll wander poor

When with the mother
her rage eyes were upon me
watching the sickness of a father
the frustrated artist or the silence

When with the father
his rage screams upon me
calling the nickname of a mother
like I was the end of a love in defiance

Memories of violence swallows me
The anguish of escaping this solace
Watching the cracks of being
thrown in around it

Memories of violence swallows me
and whenever I look I can't hide it
from this anguish puzzles inside of it
this endless wicked metaphor of
family
Fernanda Lyra Oct 2019
Samhaim the brightest night who will raise all of our fears
Samhaim our last goodbye to the souls we buried here

We will build our temples on the stone to remember those who leave, we will build our chambers on our own to erase old memories.

We'll fly to fields of dandelion thorns decorating flowers near and remember that away of tombs there are mountains high and deep

Samhaim, the fire bright in the woods of those who see
Samhaim, the stars will rise from Scorpio's dust and breeze
Samhaim the brightest night who will raise all of our fears
Samhaim our last goodbye to the souls we buried here

We will free our heads upon the weight that stands beneath the wind, in the night the cry of souls will sing for those allow to hear

Samhaim, the fire bright in the woods of those who see
Samhaim, the stars will rise from Scorpio's dust and breeze
Samhaim the brightest night who will raise all of our fears
Samhaim our last goodbye to the souls we buried here
Fernanda Lyra Oct 2019
Death surrounding each path
shadows in the back, howling
I see the black cat coming in
and the souls leaving again
once and then for samhaim.
Fernanda Lyra Oct 2019
Cada neto tinha nome de flor
as vezes assustava ao dizer
sempre com amor um nome morto,
ali referindo-se a flor que descansa

Cada sorriso e queda ela sorria
da vida breve era a ladra nata
mas da vida só roubara vasos
variados de plantas tantas

Cada ano se erguia sempre
com sua pitula de cachaça
ria até da desgraça, a velha
doce de fala leve e mansa

Agora descansa ali no céu
a sorrir das plêiades lança
da morte ao subir ao monte
outras sementes do barco
de Caronte
Fernanda Lyra Oct 2019
Ó Deusa vestida de espumas
cuja pele traz a leveza de plumas
transbordando pelos poros cas-
catas e inundas de prazer

Ó Afrodite de múltipla alma e ser
és teu parecer a explosão calma
quando teu corpo naufraga mare-
sias ao entardecer

Devotos entregam maçãs e ostras
conchas, flores tantas nos votos
eternos epítetos e formas canta-
rolam ao mar teus fogos

Ó amor que aceita a todos
seja nos ritos, mortais ou monstros
de mulheres e homens lava os cora-
ções aflitos e mudos

Ó Cípria e Safo, elevarão o amor que há em tudo


[inspirada na métrica do fragmento 2d. de Sappho]
Fernanda Lyra Oct 2019
You cannot shatter me with my naked flesh, for so many try it. Still one glance at those anxious words of failure and fire could break me entire, if deeper were the eyes to spy it, to see the wounds behind it, those wounds that built a painless ****** in the flesh, a bruise mess, older in myself than shame or desire.
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