Holocaust

Violent death.

May your voice come near.

Whispering, at my ear,

Words of abjection.

Begging, as only the weak do.

Imploring a swift end.

To suffering put a stop to.

To no longer,

No further,

Be sufferance’s playtoy.

Kill, kill, kill.

Till of blood you fill your cup.

Kill the worship,

Kill Gods’ goat.

Kill mine.

Kill me, the holocaust’s lamb,

Kill you, my beloved silence.

And, in silence, I may be dead,

Free of life’s toils and hardships,

Forever lamb. Why? Why not?

To rotten, to feed the worms,

And masturbate my inexistent penis,

My rotten balls.

Your inexistent desire for me,

For my body,

For my sex,

For my senses,

For my blood,

For my heart,

For myself.

Fuck you and all you pretend to be.

Witty,

Smart,

Sexy,

++++++

Womanly.

‘cause I know you’re a pederastian,

Whose life, unfortunately, I’d love to reap,

Because if, from hate, I’d let you be,

Laying over there, coughing,

In that delicious pond of blood, semen and spit.

Your last moments of life.

Sparrow

I’m a sparrow of existence.

My wings’re all messed up,

So I can no longer fly.

Just remain by the fruit tree,

That gives me sustenance,

So of hunger I don’t perish.

You were the forgotten promise,

Of an angel, fallen in disbelief,

By deamons tortured and hurt.

Until no more Love I have to give.

I’m old and exhausted,

Frail and disbeliefed,

My master, Time itself,

Long now has abandoned me,

Leaving me to die,

At the hands of some unknown woman,

Fierce enough to doom me,

And to the eternal vortex condemn me.

And, so, here I stand,

A limp of existence,

A lump on someone’s shoulders,

A forgotten world of Peace and Love,

Forever unattainable,

Forever forgotten,

Forever true and honest,

To loneliness condemned,

By, of those two,

The present uselessness,

As well as of Love itself.

Weeping willow.

Been equivocated about Love.

It’s origins.

It’s processes.

It’s whereabouts.

It’s potency.

At the whore houses of France,

The most beautiful women,

Those that can only be found on dreams,

But, above all, occupy the lazy mind,

Taught me the way to liberation,

The righteous path to wisdom,

The never ending process of Life.

But, above all,

They taught me the measure in which Love,

True and undoubted Love,

Must be wept.

Awakening

 The nothingness.

The oblivion.

The obvious.

The only three fruits of life’s eternal hopes.

The dismay of things undone,

After a life of toils and humorous cry,

Remember me your body of pleasure,

All your forgotten Princesses,

Laying down in the grass,

Naked,

Lying about their inner,

Hopes,

Distraught dreams of happiness,

Forever forgotten in the remains of the day.

And yet,

I stand up, vigorously,

From the pond where I lay,

And my yell of being,

A refusal of any defeat,

Linger, floating on the pebbles of the clear day.

And, forever, my angel wings

Remain silent, awaiting for Humankind’s awakening.

The Oracle

This oracle,

Void in its impotence,

Calls for my attention.

And I, solicit and obedient,

Behold the face of my dying master,

The very same master

Which chained me

To the chains of misery and truth,

And whose totem

I carve as a childish hobby.

And, all around it,

Everything is fun and child's play,

Extending into the starry sky,

The backbone of the Milky Way,

A tribute to June and her fertility.

Symbol of womanhood and,

At the same time, the toils and hardships,

Of just been born a child bearer.This oracle,

Void in its impotence,

Calls for my attention.

And I, solicit and obedient,

Behold the face of my dying master,

The very same master

Which chained me

To the chains of misery and truth,

And whose totem

I carve as a childish hobby.

And, all around it,

Everything is fun and child's play,

Extending into the starry sky,

The backbone of the Milky Way,

A tribute to June and her fertility.

Symbol of womanhood and,

At the same time, the toils and hardships,

Of just been born a child bearer.

At home (alone)

Mephistopheles, my friend,

Come sit here, by the pond, with me.

Let’s feast on the generous,

Although ever elusive, common sense,

The principle of all demise of man.

Let’s widow the everlasting

Golden sheep’s skin,

The pursued treasure of Jason, the fire bearer,

Stolen from the Philanthropist’s pyre

Of Love and Demise.

Let’s drink to Apolo,

Let’s leave all craters empty,

And renew the vows with the Gods,

The Olympics, Titans,

And even Saturn Himself.

Let’s rebuild all that’s twisted and distraught,

And, Mephistopheles, my friend, let’s,

Above all, feast upon the corpse of God,

That bringer of blood and hope to the masses.

To My Loved One

Need your body,

To lay on it my weeping eyes.

Need your compassion,

To search on it my weeping frailty.

Need your trust,

To anchorage on it my weeping self.

Need your caresses,

To feel on them my weeping soul.

Need your Love.

To dry my eyes,

To find my frailty,

To find myself,

To find my soul.

To, finally, find you, my Loved one.

A Ma Bien-Aimé.

 J’ai besoin de ton corps,

Pour s'allonger dessus avec mes yeux larmoyants.

J’ai besoin de votre compassion,

Pour y chercher ma larmant fragilité.

J’ai besoin de votre confiance,

Pour s'allonger dessus mon moi qui pleure.

J’ai besoin de vos caresses,

Pour sentir sur eux mon âme qui pleure.

J’ai besoin de ton Amour.

Pour sécher mes yeux,

Pour trouver ma fragilité,

Pour me trouver,

Pour trouver mon âme.

Pour enfin te trouver, ma Bien-Aimé.

À Minha Amada.

Preciso do teu corpo,

Para nele repousar os meus lacrimejantes olhos.

Preciso da tua compaixão,

Para nela encontrar a minha lacrimejante fragilidade.

Preciso da tua confiança,

Para nela alicerçar o meu lacrimejante ser.

Preciso das tuas carícias,

Para nelas sentir a minha lacrimejante alma.

Preciso do teu Amor.

Para secar meus olhos,

Para encontrar a minha fragilidade,

Para a mim próprio me encontrar,

Para desencobrir minh’alma.

Para, em resumo, te encontrar, meu Amor.