Um barco na areia encalhado
De um inf’liz já quase acabado
Pela tempestade levado
Submetido a tão triste fado

Por maus caminhos de Proteu
Sem os conselhos de Nereu
O rumo traçado perdeu
Três mil e uma injúrias sofreu

Pelo o oceano ambos cuspidos
Conjuntamente destruídos
Ossos e madeira partidos
Rochedos e areal tingidos

Um último olhar para o mar
Já sem muito mais para dar
E menos em que acreditar
Assim um grito faz soar:

“Será só isto que consegue!?
Este corpo jamais se ergue
Vinde lá a onda que se segue
E que no profundo me entregue!"

Arrastado p’la margem fora
Que puxa-o a corrente agora
Para o além se vai embora
Destino Estige, sem demora


*Rumo ao Inesperado by João Massada is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.

I want to plunge myself into the oceans of your love.
Dive straight down; my hands cutting the edge of oblivion, it blubbles over my body as i shoot further; as i aim to go further; i push my self to go further.
And when i slow and the force feom my jump stalls out i flale my arms and legs.
I dig in your ocean; determined to reach the bottom. The dark water just gets colder and my eara pop from the pressure but i dont stop; i release air slowly from my lungs as they cramp but i dont stop; i clinch my eyes tighter and spring them open in hopes to unblur my vision but i dont stop.
I want to drown myself in this vast sea of your love and let it comsume me.
As i inch closer and closer to the bottom i can feel the life in me tug; i let it keep tugging because i know its not enough to make me stop.
I reach out with my fingers stretched so hard the knuckles are white and finally i palm the sandy floor. The grity ground is miraculous; i cannot fathom its beauty.
To have reached the core of you i no longer feel cold; i no longer feel the pressure ringing in my ears; i no longer feel the throbbing inf my lungs.
Vision tunnels and i sink into the blackness of your love. I let it in. I let it engulf me. I welcome it to. It floods into me and becomes me.
I am your love. I just had to fight to see it.

I saw the vast size of the sea,

A replica of inf'nite tears i hide in me.

For smile's a mere facade of agony

swallowing my sanity slowly.



I saw the vast size of the sea,

Same size of my love for you i once carry.

But it's such an angelic dagger i insanely

struck into my own eyes and it blinded me.



I saw the vast size of the sea,

With maelstrom pain gnashing at me.

Now i know happiness 's such a vague illusion

that i blindedly gaze upon with desperation.



I saw the vast size of the sea,

With raging waves coming to crush over me.

With great fear i look above and found light

He whispered and the vast size of the sea

                              vanished from my sight.

Intermediate Range Nuclear Forces
(INF) Treaty nixed, asper (gasp) infinite
wisdom (quite unsettling) trumpeting  
commander in chief de facto gave green

light, thus signals fasttrack, sans arms
race activating Armageddon churning
noble nuclear warheads **** the (not
so petty) torpedoes full steam ahead,

ramping up military industrial (intelligence
- ha) complex edifice global security
compromised detente tipping point
needle weighs heavily - scale lean

triangulation ratchets dramatic
apocalyptic fear each man knucled
(woman child) arms themselves to
the teeth bombs away doth not leave

mushroom to wiggle free of doom,
the human race on track to extinction
since the commander in chief did
rescind checks and balances on rogue

nations, now issuing free (grab bag)
for all warmongering states to stock
on fire sale of various and sundry
weapons of mass destruction ushering

exponential possibility slight sabre
rattling altercations will kickstart
World War III, but no victors will
emerge cuz every square inch of planet

Earth will be snapping, crackling
and popping with radiation fostering
disintegration, incineration, obliteration...,
among civilization with minuscule probability

no child will be left behind, (nor anybody
else for that matter), yet one need
not be a brain scientist, nor rocket
surgeon to predict the end of the world

as we know it (REM) minding any weekly
reader of TIME magazine, or other
reputable news source (such as Howard
Stern), any moment could deliver every
thing each of us cherish to go to hell in

a handbasket of deplorables) predicated
on the isolationist (nationalistic) posture
our dear leader steers this ship (unwieldy
leviathan) of state into totally tubular
unswerving pulverization!