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Pen Lux Jun 2013
my skin is splintered,
it's not the wood inside of me.
maybe's are seeping through
my heart holes.
all form is out to play, I'm on
the 19th hole of destruction.
E por hoje dizer-te não é banal

Estive atento e discretamente olhei o teu doce olhar,
Passei noites ao luar, descrevendo as estrelas de bonitas,
Mas bonitas mesmo são tuas pétalas, flor de esplendor!
Tua sensibilidade e visão de mulher, a mim das nas vistas!

A certeza no destino, é como lotaria no caminho,
Onde te encontrei, no meio de tantas eu te vi sozinho!
Há muito tempo mesmo, que teimou em não passar,
Suspirei, me cansei, tirei todas, para agora te inflamar!

Sinto perto o carinho, da pessoa, minha amiga e mulher,
Te chamei e falei ao coração, para te agarrar e poder amar,
És tu hoje, em quem eu pego e petisco, com qualquer colher,
Porque muito ou pouco que nela couber, te saboreio ao petiscar!

És refeição completa para mim, como sangue vivo, ao coração,
Tuas doses tão prudentes de afecto, é outro nível neste patamar,
Orgulho de te cuidar, porque de mim, cuidas tu, como a terra do seu mar!

Se eu hoje respiro vida, ao querer cada hora do dia, desde o levantar,
Devo-te muito a ti e as palavras que escrevo não são hoje fantasias,
Porque cuidas de mim, como terra do seu vazo, da planta, de encantar,
Encanta meu sorriso, pelo teu cuidar, nas coisas que fazes e me dizias!

Não é falso nem é mentira, acredito na realidade que tu me trazes,
Não finjo, não mudo, não acredito que precises tu princesa, de mudar!
Olhei-te do chão, mirei-te, e tu com teu jeito doce, levantas-te meu olhar,
E eu confie-te nos braços tudo, na hora me deitar, pelo que tu me fazes!

A falta de carinho não a sinto hoje, porque a não tenho,
A ti te darei respeito, pela dama e senhora que te achei,
Encontro-te a ti a cada dia, no meu leito, e no meu cardanho!
Porque ele é gíria de tudo aquilo que tenho e em ti encontrei!

Autor: António Benigno
Código de autor: 2013.09.09.02.20
Victor Marques Aug 2010
Penso em ti

Noite mal dormida sem sono nem vontade,
Calor do teu beijo dá felicidade,
Açucena flor campestre florida,
Estrela do céu esquecida.


Tu tens magia sem censura,
Pinceladas nos teus olhos,
Boca sem sede com eterna brancura,
Candeia acesa na noite escura.


Pareces uma onda sem espuma,
Uma borboleta e até coisa alguma?
Um horizonte que não se abraça,
Uma nuvem que nunca passa.


Tu tens a melodia eterna,
Pureza de água cristalina,
A serenidade de uma donzela enfeitiçada,
Fazes parte de mim e da minha caminhada.

Victor Marques
VS Sep 2014
Tuas parcas impressões não me comovem
Irrito-me a cada interrupção gentil que tu fazes e
Devoro a mim mesmo em lúgubre fome,
A lamentar o que de bom poderia ter feito
Se e se

Mas

Às três da tarde
Apodreço numa cadeira áspera
Quase tão fétido quanto a fruta do vômito
Passada do ponto de colheita

Às cinco da tarde
Eu já sou molho estragado
Setenta por cento aglomerado literal de leucócitos degenerados
Pus integral

Ao cair do sol,
Sou um alface hidropônico
Pronto para ser vendido, lavado e comido por ti
Interruptor imbecil.

Voltar-me-ei ao mar
Ao esgoto
Num estado de paz surda

A solidão é um inspirar sufocado
Sufoca
Oxida as ideias
É tortura comodamente induzida

Se hoje fervilho, é sorte
Pura boa-aventurança;
Pois do profundo cócito
Fui e voltei

E cá estou
Inteiro
Longe dos dentes de Deus.
When a man meets a woman
there's some kind of spark
No time to lose, seize that chance
When a woman meets a man
There's some fire igniting in your very soul
What do you say to your lover?

I love you
Ti amo
Je t'aime
Ich liebe dich
Te Quiero
Jag älskar dig


Time passes for nobody but love itself
That blooming passion just stays there
All alone at a moment's notice
You never know what happens
unless you say

I love you
Ti amo
Je t'aime
Ich liebe dich
Te Quiero
Jag älskar dig


Cash that love check
Time's afleeting and you don't know what to say
turn back the clock
cupid's right there by your side waiting for you to
say those magical words

I love you
Ti amo
Je t'aime
Ich liebe dich
Te Quiero
Jag älskar dig

Tender spoken word of love
Just fazes you and takes that breath away
From your velvet lips
You just don't know when that moment passes by
Unless you say it out loud
to your family, your friends, random strangers and your lovers........

I love you
Ti amo
Je t'aime
Ich liebe dich
Te Quiero
Jag älskar dig
I love you
Ti amo
Je t'aime
Ich liebe dich
Te Quiero
Jag älskar dig

I love you..
I love you..
I love you.........


Steven B. Craig  08/05/2009
2009/08/05
sleeplessnxghts Nov 2013
For so long while the rushing rivers broke through the dams resting below the bridge where we used to share the secrets that flowed out like blood oozing from your aggressive heart
I laid myself in a grave with the dirt covering my body but leaving my mouth to gasp the air that you controlled and seemed to restrict me from living
I've beaten my angry mind, trying relentlessly to compel myself that our memories together are ephemeral
But as often as the sun rises and as accurate as the tides roll up on shore
You are the moon dragging them there, a forcible action corrupting the truth to exist in a fabricated manor, overbearing, inescapable, we shared a time lapse I can no longer deflect from my remembrances
It was you who sent the raven to my window, perched up on the ledge, opening it's beak to formulate the sound that would entail a long and arduous torture of being in love with someone who could hardly provide me with so much as a smile
Instead a laundry list of tears flowed out of the machines, overflowing the surfaces with salty indications of an unhappy relationship
But evasive behaviors were your M/O
A constant recurrence of neglect, I watch the raven fly away leaving the chill breeze to ruffle my hair and scramble my thoughts
How could I breathe with the perpetual exhalation of carbon dioxide collecting within my lungs
The very breath you sent in through your imminent kiss that tore my lips apart?
The broken dam shelters all of the lost love and all of the mutual secrets that fled your lips and right into the ears of hungry souls begging for a reason to shatter me into pieces
Sleepless nights and dreamless awakenings
I cannot house these emotions any longer, but you won't leave, you found the key and the open door never fazes you
Why do I find you resting in my bed and smoking your daily cigarette on my porch?
Your hazardous fumes are encircling my already dazed confusion, filling my lungs with your cancerous habits
My thoughts grow as stale as the ***** I douse myself in, highly flammable, as you hold the lighter
You would much rather see me suffer in the memories than burn me to the ground and relieve my inner pain
You sadist.
Raven Feels Apr 2021
DEAR PENPAL PEOPLE, my heart aches for the wounds:\


is it when a matter is in the faults???

the puts of the words and the spits of the secrets

moon I swore the hells to I would never say loud

it's like the repressed in her

in her stashes

her hidden ashes dancing in the rests

fearing of the miss

of the outs of the mists

too much of bliss or not

deprivation an official ****

when my chest aches

blessed with the silence

cursed with those disgusting chaos of a waste

transforms to the addicting

an incredulous taste

menaced to me on her fazes she spills

psychotic on the egos what is this???

drown me in an ocean of misery

won't matter as much of the mockery


                                                       ­                       ------ravenfeels
Michael W Noland Apr 2013
Intrepidly neglected, of my lessened reasoning, I am dissected, of my insurrection, from the blessed beens of yesteryear's glints, dancing, parading, and burning, in layers, stages, and fazes, fading, and melting, the plastic faces into the smelting heap, that has come so far, just to inspire me.

Always.

Always you unto me, spiraling, indefinitely into the deep, where ceased is the times, with bloodied hands, and laugh lines, laughing one last time, while glancing toward my watch, under setting suns, and rising stars, smiling faces, and in tearful goodbyes, i realise

The sky's limitlessness

And in all the glory, and all the bliss, the eloquent stories, and the gentle drifts, my imagination uplifts, in wisps of gentleness, where i submit to reason.

Bless-ed be, the one who garners to my support, from a vortex of euphoric antidotes, of mindless quotes, and animated emotes, pulsed, from straight faces, and lost hope.

Ill tell the truth, you can go with nope, in whispered breaths of gun smoke, lathered in lith-dope.

Just trying to cope with the flow, until i crash upon the shores of nevermore, and, explore these holes in my soul intent, ascending from the contempt of bent perspectives, and twisted concepts, letting the blood of the peasant from my arms of harmony, trembling blankly to sleep.

To you a *****, to me tranquility, as i sink, into the world i knew, so that it may be seen, casing the well being, of all the things, and pixelated dreams, from a thieves keep.

Deep, down, below me, in obscurity, i seep, through the soil of my turmoil, until my hand reaches out, from beyond my doubts, and clambers from the shadows, outside of myself.

I am born, of mud, of muck, of the stuff, you're afraid of, and all i bare is love, love to shrug the shams astray, vacating the placation, and dichotomies, unifying light, into one me, shining in the rainy streets, of my deletion

Until my completion
Completely
Erases me.
Michael W Noland Dec 2012
Ambiguously, he was boggled, beguiled by garbled goggles while giggling out the squiggles, to wiggle the signals free.

Deliberately dallying in the Plato piety of proprietary philosophies, he, dastardly deemed, disaster to be, damaging, to the laughter in the chatter of the baggage handlers to another plane.

Manhandler of a plastered paradise, partly in slices, of silly little vices of sacrifices, that shall suffice with vice grips on the lips of the negative with the spices of nicety.

Lavished in lividly living uP the misgivings of lesserly lessons, blessing the blasphemy, in passionate tuck ins, snuck in, upon drunken hunkering in the bunkers of spunkier spiels.

Languid longevity's of luscious lettering, lest will we, count our kills, never ever to leave a life festering in lectured structuring, besting the busy debuts, of flukless frugality, lucidly, counting the calories of calamity, and randomly rhyming without reason in season-less rain clouds, only allowed to put the umbrella away, and fade in play to the part, where we impart patience on the persona from the coma of commonality.

Immaculately conceived, perceived as a ***** who adores hollow hearts, as we, haphazardly heap on the hilarity, in hepatidal waves, through fazes of the common wealth.

Smile in stealth, love no one else, but self and end up in health, at a lonely age in staged stimuli, reminding me why i'm alive, and not allowed to die, while on rewind through the hard times, to smile on the last lines of laser driven lifelines, laughing at the fragile signs on the finer wines, as they break on the bowes of holy boats in bouts against the sea.

Spewing randomly, he, finds satisfactory solutions to the strengthening of his constitution in loosened blue spells, to dispel his ruthless tendrils from your ears.

The fears fueling the finality in his fractured mentality of maniacal travesties laughing at me.

Its just me, unjustly adjusting for the combustion of the build.

Its lovely here.

Laughing in the lashes.

Signing my entrapment's.

Lapsing out the masses and forming from the ashes of smashed happiness, as it unclasps before my eyes.

Sometimes

It just feels right to be alive.
Victor Marques Jan 2011
Prece a Deus

Meu Deus, a espiritualidade me faz pensar em ti.
Ser melhor e rezar como intuito simples.
A fé dá razão a quem vive com gratidão,
Amor a Deus e plena comunhão.

Meu Deus do amor eterno e infinito,
Trovão que ressoa teu grito.
Me fazes viver com amor e coração,
De joelhos pedindo com devoção .


Meu Deus perene e consensual,
Único e Universal.
Louvores te damos e te pedimos na oração,
Saúde e pedacinhos de pão.

Cordiais Cumprimentos.
Victor Marques
Michael W Noland Apr 2013
Ambiguously, he was boggled, beguiled by garbled goggles while giggling out the squiggles, to wiggle the signals free.

Deliberately dallying in the Plato piety of proprietary philosophies, he, dastardly deemed, disaster to be, damaging, to the laughter in the chatter of the baggage handlers to another plane.

Manhandler of a plastered paradise, partly in slices, of silly little vices of sacrifices, that shall suffice with vice grips on the lips of the negative with the spices of nicety.

Lavished in lividly living uP the misgivings of lesserly lessons, blessing the blasphemy, in passionate tuck ins, snuck in, upon drunken hunkering in the bunkers of spunkier spiels.

Languid longevity's of luscious lettering, lest will we, count our kills, never ever to leave a life festering in lectured structuring, besting the busy debuts, of flukless frugality, lucidly, counting the calories of calamity, and randomly rhyming without reason in season-less rain clouds, only allowed to put the umbrella away, and fade in play to the part, where we impart patience on the persona from the coma of commonality.

Immaculately conceived, perceived as a ***** who adores hollow hearts, as we, haphazardly heap on the hilarity, in hepatidal waves, through fazes of the common wealth.

Smile in stealth, love no one else, but self and end up in health, at a lonely age in staged stimuli, reminding me why i'm alive, and not allowed to die, while on rewind through the hard times, to smile on the last lines of laser driven lifelines, laughing at the fragile signs on the finer wines, as they break on the bowes of holy boats in bouts against the sea.

Spewing randomly, he, finds satisfactory solutions to the strengthening of his constitution in loosened blue spells, to dispel his ruthless tendrils from your ears.

The fears fueling the finality in his fractured mentality of maniacal travesties laughing at me.

Its just me, unjustly adjusting for the combustion of the build.

Its lovely here.

Laughing in the lashes.

Signing my entrapment's.

Lapsing out the masses and forming from the ashes of smashed happiness, as it unclasps before my eyes.

Sometimes

It just feels right to be alive.
Hoje enquanto dormia, sonhei que num jardim vivia,
Ouvia os pássaros, cantar lindas canções, com ternura,
Sentia-se a água da chuva correr sem sua armadura,
As flores eram verdes, como os sonhos, de pura lixivia!

Lavaram-se as vestes, lavaram-se as mãos, enquanto sonhava
Quando acordei pela manha do costume cheia de sonhos,
Percebi que se tinha tornado uma rotina ser feliz e eu amava,
Amava incansavelmente seus olhos, via o coração aos quadradinhos!

Quadros pintados nas paredes de casa cheio de nossas recordações,
Hoje, era senão mais um dia, onde pintava na tela nossas emoções,
Aquilo que começou num passeio descalço junto da lagoa vazia,
Formava agora na parede de casa retractos de uma família que crescia!

Peguei depois na espátula da minha vida, peguei-a de nova na mão,
Olhei-a nos olhos, senti-lhe as formas e apertei-a ali junto ao coração,
Em tempos atrás deixei-te fugir, deixei-te viver e crescer longe de mim,
Mas hoje, e agora, para sempre, te quero ter aqui, até aquilo que é o fim!

Quando à noite me for deitar, só quero acordar para te olhar o rosto,
Porque os sonhos, por mais belos e lindos, mesmo de nos encantar,
Não se comparam sequer a tudo aquilo que tu na vida me fazes amar!

Autor: António Benigno
Código de autor: 2013.08.29.02.17
Lexi Nov 2017
Being unwanted isn't new to me. Infact I was shocked to find myself on the verge of tears when I found out you don't want nor care about me. I hate what you do to me. I hate that you're my weakness and you don't give a ****. I hate that nothing I do fazes you. I hate you.
But you see.. I can never hate you. Because I still love you.
Victor Marques Apr 2013
Diz me quem és tu….

Suave com temperamento tempestivo,
Doce como a noite á rebeldia,
Terna como a luz do dia,
És chama para quem suspiro e vivo.

Insatisfeita com tua beleza,
Fazes o céu ser teu pretendente,
A lua teu amante,
E eu perdido no amor á natureza.

Amas teus pais com laços,
Ao acaso dás e pedes abraços,
Tens sentimentos só teus e muitos ternos,
Te perdes nos serões secos e amenos.

Gestos simples de quem é devota,
Amar a flor que sempre brota,
Quem és tu melodia erudita,
Água pura que purifica…

Victor Marques
d n Sep 2012
i sink through fields of red crimson cord, strewn across my own mindspace
synapse detached through joint stimulating electron particle repulsion
soul and heart and hearth and home
dissolved in a soup of blind, driven, unREMORSEFUL feeling

bleeding blood that appears not as blood, trailing in stream(er)s from a decorated float
appearing through veiled social distance, bleeding through to dark spots on the jeans i haven't washed since last week
appearing as an image, mirrored reflection with just a
hint
of deception
(as though i'm not really here, i'm not who you think i am you will me to be,
i disappeared when you last left me here, last left to chase your own sun
i disappeared slowly, as if melting, dissolving, being swept away, dust filled
i disappeared in the wake of the last tornado to sweep through this yawning town
this blip on my radar
this phase that fazes me not as i walk jaded, unfeeling, uncaring, unmoved
i disappeared and now there's no trace of me left to answer)

i retain my poker face from guys' night out, though now i don't have to tell you that tonight i need to be alone, no,
tonight i
w h i s p e r
it
as if you're still listening
9/24/2012
Blink Aug 2014
Your calm gentle gaze
Hits me harder and fazes me
More than a laser beam
Can’t those gorgeous eyes
Decipher why I am
Reacting so extreme?
I am holding your head
In my arms as your blood
Begins to slowly stream
The fear in my heart
Will leave a permanent mark
So I start to dream
Although naively, that
Love, not this tragedy
Would be our theme
Brent Kincaid Oct 2016
He lives in a world
Of never and always
Even though there is
No such land.
You could explain
All the facts to him
But he would fail to
Grasp them or understand.

It’s all about opinion
And how he feels
And the way he thinks
About what he sees.
Nothing fazes him
Nothing teaches him
And no hint of reality
Brings him to his knees.

He only cares about
What he wants to have
Or what he wants
To make you believe.
He doesn’t love anyone
He hates almost everyone
He only gets upset
But he never grieves.

He looks into the mirror
And only sees himself
Because in his universe
There is nobody else.
You are just something
That is here to be used.
If he badly wants to do it
He is allowed to abuse.

After all, sun and moon
Revolve, rise and set on him.
In his solar system one star shines
Everything else is very dim.
Since he is rich, and can afford it
He keeps paid companions close.
He can stand free thinkers
Only by the miniature dose.
Victor Marques Jan 2017
Quando cansado da noite e do singelo dia,
Do uivar do lobo e cantar da cotovia.
Ousar amar,  contemplar a luz que nos guia.
Quando alguém te perguntar  donde vens,
Deixa de ser tu , de ser ninguém ,
Mas responde com um sorriso de tua MÃE.

Quando a vida te parecer  que já não existe,
Quando o alegre anda sempre triste.
E tu fazes perguntas sem nunca ter resposta,
O amor que temos por tudo se  desvanece.
Mas alguém te pergunta donde vens,
Caminhas num horizonte que nos exorta.
Responde com o amor de tua  Mae  ...  


E neste mundo em que seres te perguntam  com curiosidade,
Diz que alguém pensa e escreve com alma e pluralidade,
Que  vive no mundo sem tempo , nem idade,
Mas a sua escrita fica para a posterioridade.
E Se alguém te perguntar donde és e o que tens ,
Responde com o calor e amor  de tua Mae .

Victor Marques
mãe, mundo, escrita , poesia
O Vento que passa por mim leva todo o ar que existe nos meus pulmões. Faz o meu coração parar de tanta tristeza e amargura que carrega, faz com que o meu emocional seja triste e seco.
Sem razão nenhuma para me torturar, o Vento continua a fazê-lo, isto fá-lo feliz. Não lhe dói, mas como me dói a mim, é uma alegria. Acho que já estou habituada a esta dor. Fui destinada a tê-la, e agora, mereço-a.
Oh meu amor, porque me fazes sofrer tanto, meu querido Vento? Que dor infernal sinto eu por culpa tua, seu bicho horrendo que tanto amo.
Por favor, faz com que eu pare de te amar, por favor, por favor. O ar que levas contigo não te chega? Tens que tirar de mim o pouco que falta para me sentir viva e sem remorsos?
Oh meu amor, oh meu querido Vento, meu feio e horrendo bicho que mais odeio por te amar.
Faz com que pare, por favor, por favor.
Mia Apr 2013
I can't tell if we are friends,
I can't tell if we are more.
You hold my hand and walk me home.
You don't hug or kiss me goodnight.
the hours build up to a crescendo
Where am with you.
I long to be with you more.
You text me goodnight,
And it stretches out to hours.
Where none wants to let go.
I study you when you're not looking.
Does he secretly want more?
Should i cross the threshold?
But you go on taking midnight walks with me,
And talking into the wee hours.
You keep your distance,
Nothing fazes you.
You asked me today,
What i wanted in a guy.
Am still rewriting that.
Mateuš Conrad Sep 2016
i once had two sessions with a west end
psychologist - a woman in her 50s or 60s...
she brewed chamomile tea (cha cha cha?
or cat? this aesthetic is a real burden for
some people - too many particulars to
remember - i blame the missing diacritical
marks, inviting the monopoly of
phonetic encoding, which put off the
people who are famous, because they never
wrote anything) - we spoke the first time
within the designated time-frame, a session
of an hour... i told her about a dream i had:
i am sitting with a boy in my room,
a hellish figure, gluttonous and burnt walks
in, behind him an artist's representation of
schizophrenia - the sole medical condition
that's abused by politics - shame really...
it means there's an authentic loss of understanding
what was once known as premature dementia -
long gone the ancient days of old age being
equated with melancholy - come forth the modern
age and old age being demented - as if to say
nothing was ever accomplished in the first place,
come old age: still no melancholy concerning
fulfilled accomplishments - i'm guessing 100
crosswords later, you'd get that...
about the same time when people are drawn away
from political language, and invited to play
games... bad move... whoever invented language
games never cared for the crucible of language's
essential purpose - to elevate, to elevate...
so this second session lasted well over 4 hours...
she really became a leech -
i told her about that dream, about those two
hellish figures, the boy sitting next to me just said:
this is Allah... so who the **** is this ***
accompanying him? i heard the story that Allah
has no accomplices... who's that?!
the rarity of a dream... so we talked for 4 hours about
this that and the other sipping chamomile tea...
buttery tea i call it...
                                    i'd eat a tonne of grass
to epitomise the muscles of horses, just to get
the right picture... then all the world went to ****...
quiet distinctly the memory of leaving one
of the two sessions, walking in the humid air of
west London, a woman dragging her caravan of
shopping bags... almost started weeping while
i passed her...
                         but what curiosity came when
psychologist said something encrypted in her sway
away from dogmatism -
                     she said to me: the police are looking
for a Greek...
                         i swear to god, i sometimes don't know
what people are talking about, it just fazes me,
fizzes in my insides and comes out as merely: huh?
the police are looking for a Greek.
        who's the Greek? do i know him?
  you sure they're not looking for a Roman?
         i used to do this trick when i reached the body
image zenith of finger down my throat,
and regurgitate chocolate - by the end i trained
my esophagus to the point where i was regurgitating
like if i were at a Roman food ****...
               it just came naturally...
  well, then i thought: **** it... can't be bothered,
i'm not getting any *****, and i'm putting all that work in...
  it's not worth it... let me get back into shape
with a lamb's torso... it really wasn't worth it...
still, the session was supposed to last an hour,
we started talking for 4... she got the money,
i just begat dim... and the light-bulb moment never came...
it's funny, because i was actually hiding a very simple
answer... but i did inspect the whole psychological spectrum...
didn't leave the practice any smarter,
i actually became smarter having experienced the rich boy's
treatment: psychology...          and the poor boy's treatment:
  psychiatry...            but i didn't leave the two
any wiser...           they really weren't that different
from zoological studies...
                         rich boy treatment didn't involve pills...
    poor boy's treatment did...
              my treatment just involved a drug of my choice
(a sleeping pill), alcohol - because i'd be raving mad
if i did have some sort of outlet - and a painkiller -
perfect night's sleep - and no Freudian ******* about
dreams having meaning - i need sleep,
   i don't need exploration of meaning that life designates
into some ******-pharmacological revision of the 1960s -
if you take acid wide-awake, there you are,
obstacles everywhere, nowhere is safe...
               dreams are like taking l.s.d. but in a controlled
environment: the unconscious...
               it's safe: the police are looking for a Greek?
what's that about? well, i guess 4 hours spent talking with
me is enough to produce such a random expression -
subsequently i have been profiled by the police:
one time lamenting in my garden,
          another time ******* in an alley,
     another time drinking beer on a bench in the centre of town,
  another time finishing a can of beer outside a shop
           in the outer-suburbia -
oh right, another time being driven home in one of their cars,
   those vans with cages, after being poisoned by warm
***** in a club and getting a Vladimir Klitschko handshake
to the cheek - stepped off the bus and landed face down
on the pavement - warm ***** is horrid enough,
           warm ***** that's spiked? that's another.
i'm wondering: do these people even know *******
someone, or am i experiencing one murderous ******
after another? it's just getting silly... it's like they're testing
the grounds for something shocking to jellyfish their *****
straight up to the moon: whizz-kids my ****.
but here i am, after all that - and i've picked up
essential Kierkegaard - you know... i think he's the first
man to create novels out of philosophy, he's actually
the first philosophical novelist... swear to god,
Nietzsche is nothing by comparison, i too could utter
maxim after maxim and later an aphorism or two...
but to write philosophy like a novel, Kierkegaard if your
man, your safest bet...
                                  he writes philosophy like a novel,
it just flows and flows out of him, if Nietzsche
is a poet-philosopher, then Kierkegaard is a novelist /
philosopher (yep, Zeus' lightning rod slash is just
as important as the hyphen compound -
                   which means the latter received all the appeal
that poetic hearts retain the most abhorred shadows:
that of women... horrid stuff) -
he was a true philosophical novelist.
              i guess the other thing to point out:
   i'll be known as the corrupter of old age -
        have no idea why children, animals and esp. old
people approach me while i'm minding my own business
     on park benches, smoking and drinking a beer -
but as it's said about western society: they simply
don't know how to drink *****! they haven't the foggiest!
ice cold, ice cold! warm ***** is horrid!
        this isn't whiskey, that wheat perfume...
you don't lounge with *****... ice cold... shot after shot
in between nibbles...
                                  and the drinking culture is even
worse, come to think about it in England...
                   no hot food, nibbles, crisps,
      chocolate... who... the... ****... drinks... alcohol...
of... that... calibre... and... nibbles... on... chocolate?!
              meat... meat, meat!
                           ah but wait...
   this country never experienced a Mongolian horde...
they're keen on the 19th century *******...
    the days when now wearing a hat was considered
a mental illness...
                                   they barely translated Descartes
into: he's not proving his existence,
             he's saying something akin to:
                         how thinking waterfalls' cascades into
either being, or non-being:
             hence the one side bravado and chauvinism,
and the other side shy sacred creature -
                  if you're conscious of thought
you won't shy away from it -
                                                       with so much sensual /
empirical ******* it's hard not to think,
         and the more it's easier to think, the harder it is
to be -                                  so we have the apples
and pears                    of Jacob -
               or as some old geezer once said (and rightly):
all the idiots have the confidence, while
                       the intelligentsia has all the doubts -
          guess that leaves the politicians as having
   all the necessary denials: primarily?
the denial of not lying.
Rui Serra Feb 2014
Momento efémero
Ondas de oiro
Suave no toque
Leveza insustentável
Quimera
Noite
Sangue de veludo
Ocultas-te
Para te poderes encontrar
E fazes de um não o valor da vida
Marco Raimondi Jul 2017
Fim, desdita é tua demora;
Que é amarga, no entanto,
Tua certeza de avigora
Ao século qual pare teu pranto

Fim, conta-me teu segredo;
Que fazes neste mundo alucinado?
Que eras? Trazes-me medo!
Tens fé em um crepúsculo gelado?

Fim, por tua espera, quantas almas emudeceram?
És arcanjo dos gritos irreais!
Quantas mágoas míseras no vazio colheram,
As velas apagadas, as páginas finais?
Joana Jul 2014
O Vento que passa por mim leva todo o ar que existe nos meus pulmões. Faz o meu coração parar de tanta tristeza e amargura que carrega, faz com que o meu emocional seja triste e seco.
Sem razão nenhuma para me torturar, o Vento continua a fazê-lo, isto fá-lo feliz. Não lhe dói, mas como me dói a mim, é uma alegria. Acho que já estou habituada a esta dor. Fui destinada a tê-la, e agora, mereço-a.
Oh meu amor, porque me fazes sofrer tanto, meu querido Vento? Que dor infernal sinto eu por culpa tua, seu bicho horrendo que tanto amo.
Por favor, faz com que eu pare de te amar, por favor, por favor. O ar que levas contigo não te chega? Tens que tirar de mim o pouco que falta para me sentir viva e sem remorsos?
Oh meu amor, oh meu querido Vento, meu feio e horrendo bicho que mais odeio por te amar.
Faz com que pare, por favor, por favor.
Este texto estava publicado na minha outra conta.
Through the eye of the needle where necessity lies
and the horizon's a point somewhere off,
someone dies.
On the grains where the sand shifts the mountains away, where the land ***** crab sideways to gather their prey or the fields where the crops dust off MDMA,
I drop,
intellect fades
the night fazes in on sharpened steel blades.
daphne Feb 2021
i chew on the shards
of my broken heart
wearing out my enamels
bleeding out my gums
devouring the pain
slitting down my throat
you tower over keenly
i craned my neck beaming
doubtful eyes swept over
discoloured lips
crimson stained teeth
but a smile is flattering
so please don't fret
you can trust me
i am fine i am okay
the pain no longer fazes me
Juliet R Jun 2014
Bebe os  segredos proibídos dos meus lábios
Como se de uma confissão se tratasse
Arruína-me esta vontade inquieta
Destrói-me este desejo de ser livre
E concretiza a vontade de pertencer
Perdoa-me qualquer avanço suave e brusco
Não tenciono deixar-te ir no sentido contrário
Sorri cada vez que este vermelho surge no meu rosto
É a consequência deste sentimento que me provocas
Tu fazes para me relembrar quão bom é ter-te aqui
Porque apesar de os sonhos que me inquetam durante a noite
Serem os mais puros desejos concretizados fantasiosamente
Não passam disso, fantasias inconcretizadas
Há espera de serem materializadas
Exigo levemente mas afintadamente que não partirás sem mim
Ajuda esta mente inquieta a suavizar estes incontrolos
Completamente ansiosos cansados de ansiar por mais
Incontrolos inteiramente controlados pelo consciente
Com o inconsciente gritando para se descontrolarem
In portuguese. Inspiration of the day.
Ry-el Nov 2011
lie in the place
truth belongs where there is no backspace

i have done so wrong
because the right hasnt been the bulk of what i say

cut out all of my words
and paste what i havnt said

you would get a beautiful image
but this isnt the picture my words paint

static fazes for so long
but clarity must remain.
Thisisacatmeow Mar 2014
I see dusty fog,
stirring,
within the walls of the room that confines
both you and my
punctured conscience.

This space,
lacquered with distraught splatters
of *****-yellow paint
peeling off
like plaster to old ceilings;
it reminds you of refuge,
it reminds you of home.

I see the blood
of more than your own
pulsing through your
lithe frame, made up of a network
of veins that are just
a little more tangled up than the average person's;
mixed up like one cocktail
too many;
this deadly concoction I see boiling--
the steam being what makes up
the breath you breathe out
when you sigh.

I see a Contradiction,
something so rigid it never fazes
something so fragile
it'd crumble under a glassblower's breath
the shell like that of a pistachio
enclosing insides of cotton candy
and porridge mush;

you're a drug capsule
in need of dissipation.
This will be my first poem on this site. I wrote this a while back. This is one of those poems you have to try hard to decipher and for that I'm really sorry.
Rui Serra Jul 2014
Aiiii . . . não sei se é amor ou é loucura,
essa força, enfim, que desconheço,
amarrou-me a vida à tua vida obscura,
e a ti, a ti somente “AMOR” eu peço.

O agridoce desta nossa aventura,
as delicias que me dás e não mereço,
todo este amor com toda a sua loucura,
o amor em que vivo e desfaleço.

Fazes-me lembrar as negras rosas,
que me deixam assim embevecido,
inalando o teu aroma delicado.

Como que atingido pela seta do cupido,
abraço as tuas pétalas maravilhosas,
sucumbindo assim ao teu beijo envenenado.
Rui Serra Apr 2015
estranho

esta cidade
a sua personalidade
o seu cheiro

a minha casa
os meus lençóis

estou atrasado

o sol saúda as minhas cortinas
quero dormir para acordar

sorrio

água escorre pela bacia

paro no tempo

observo o teu dormir
um suave rosto

fazes o meu dia ter sentido

amo-te, mulher, minha mulher

café da manhã

há na minha mesa burocratas

sinto o teu respirar
só para mim

adormeço, recomeço
Rui Serra Jan 2015
sou um espelho antigo

frio . vazio . sombrio

como um túmulo

sobre a lareira
domino o quarto

vejo lá fora
as flores e árvores
do teu jardim

há dias em que sinto o vento

vejo-te à noite a pentear
os teus sedosos cabelos

vejo-te à noite a acariciar
os teus voluptuosos seios

fazes amor no reflexo da minha existência

eu sou imortal
nunca minto

eu serei o único
que lá vai estar, no teu quarto
até que definhes

e aí
dar-te-ei as minhas memórias

será muito, muito difícil para mim,
quando já não houver nada para refletir
KrisNicYo Mar 2015
There's a certain beauty in the chaos of us,
Its a strange potent mix of fear and lust,
You lied when you said you were incapable of love,
Now every moment is captured to the surface of your mind they shove,
You tell yourself that my smile no longer fazes you,
But the steam rising from your skin after my touch says that's not true,
I enjoy the games we play every night  between our thighs ,
I study you biting my lip in  anticipation of the next possible high,
In an attempt to regain my sanity I push you away,
I know its usually in vain because you pull me in deeper the next day,
You fingers wrapped around my hair forcing me to submit to the chaos with a kiss,
As you push me to the bed my body tingles with insurmountable  bliss,
I look into your eyes holding you intense gaze as you roughly enter me,
The end to this merry go round on my back after each wave of pleasure  is hard to see,
Tomorrow Ill focus on my escape but in this moment I think Ill let the chaos be,
Marco Raimondi Sep 2017
Ó morte! O silêncio de tua voz me é tortura,
Pois suspiraste em chama tão cedo
Colhendo de desesperança, o medo
E secando fontes de virtude em tua bravura

Ó morte! Por que recolhe tua graça obscura
Quando nutre interna, minh'alma em segredo?
Por que fazes-me ardilosa, teu lume enredo,
Quando aviva-me o desejo de unção tão pura?

De eras tortuosas, tece-me piedoso dilema
Neste espírito breve, de impetuosa e extrema
Flor desatada e imprudente

E eriçam minhas razões para que a tema
Mas bem sei que és gentil! Pois, da paz amena
És tu quem guardas os tesouros eminentes
Gil Cardoso Feb 2019
Remate, chuta, golo!

Quando o faço no meu quarto
Ninguém admira
É mentira!
Admiro eu!

Que fazes tu?
Escreves remata e chuta
Que é a mesma coisa?

É? A lingua portuguesa é...loiça

Isso era só para rimar?
Nem rima bem

E para que me críticas?
Tu és eu
Partilhamos o mesmo corpo
O mesmo….

Lorpo?

Isso nem é palavra!

Para quem usou loiça antes
Esta pelo menos rima

Tu nem fazes um esforço
Com essa mania de superioridade
Tornas-te um destroço
Por causa da tua inseguridade
Eu pelo menos trabalho
E faço sair palavras
E se me apetece
Rima uma com bugalho
E a outra com larvas
Agora vai-te embora
Vai morrer
Se te apetecer
E deixa-me escrever
01/02/2018
Escrito 01/02/2018
Joana Apr 2015
Lembro-me do que eras, do que foste, mas já não sei quem és.
A tristeza fez com que mudasses repentinamente.
Tens tanta gente contigo, mas ao mesmo tempo não tens ninguém. Uma multidão à tua volta e tu sentes-te só. Não vês quem te faz falta. "Disseram que só quem está é que faz falta, mas tu não estás e realmente fazes falta."
Emma Azura Nov 2013
you spray deadly venom in the form of words
in the direction of which I unsteadily stand

with your intention to maim
my solemness fazes you

for though I am writhing in pain
it hides within me
I will give you no such thing as satisfaction
in the way of your tauntingly soulless heart
having license to see the battle going on inside of me
Simpleton Feb 2015
Helplessly prostrated
A head hung in defeat
Heart filled with unspoken requests
Like taboos too scared to be let out into the open
Lest one expects too much
Wishes and desires
Dreams and miracles
All the impossibles
And more than I could deserve
Oh Lord
This life longs to go home
Slowly and painfully weaved destiny
With ditches that were filled in
Bit by bit
Your remembrance like a soft breeze
Caressing soothing
Floating distressed dishevelled
Disappointments away
And really now I see
I believe
In reasons and purpose
And the best You wanted for me
I feel the mercy of thick skin
No more sensitive cry myself to sleep
No shocks or hidden surprises
I've been at my lowest
Now nothing fazes me
Patiently slowly
I feel a drizzle
The rain of light
And I feel myself float towards You
Drown me in Your mercy
Set aflame the desire to seek Your approval
Your Love is an empty kind of full
Everything slips through these fingers like soft silky grains of sand
But I know the desert is mine
And this world offers a life of craving to feel full
But empty is all we really get
I am a free slave of my own submission
People die all the time from suicide
because they try but cannot hide
If chicks hate you
dont let it stain you
dont hide whats inside
if they hit and tease you
and do things that dont please you
do something that they hate too
and do you know what haters hate the most
they hate when nothing fazes you
but if you cry and wish to die
they wont stop doing the things they do
so if people like this ever mess with you
play their games,
but change all the rules

— The End —