Black

Sometimes the time is timeless
and doesn't count the nights
sometimes beloved is loveless
and doesn't look for rights

sometimes the eye that's closed,
is concerned of everything exposed
sometimes bleeding is your neck,
the blood isn't red, but black..

From the dust and soil

I connect to myself
through the spiral of trust
running from my toes
towards to my third eye
this eye
can see and hear
when the sand makes a movement and let it resonate
in my left hemisphere

I love the mouth
that tells a story
I have been hidden too long
because my tongue was twisted
and my tongue was scared
to express the soul

therefore I am a music
I am moving the ground
painting crazy pictures
when nobody misses me
like the ground I came from
like the soil and dust
soon I will come from the sky,
gently love you,
my unborn child.

When will you get tired?

What has been there?
Out, in the sky? Highness possessed
by virtuosity!
Clear picture it's a deeper meaning,
where the soul penetrates into
the harmony...

What has been there?
Oh my sweet wisdom! How I praised
you, placed you on the pedestal,
just to end up by eating dust
and furthermore:

here one stands in his objection,
vision of forgiveness and the truth.
A woman that has chosen to stand
on the top of the hill and never fly !
Shame on those who hate themselves,
who cared when the survival mattered?

Thus sky was getting darker, the coat she wore purple,
and mind was getting wiser,
wiser and older,
grew apart of being just a human,
transcendent in his own being

in the light, even when is dark:

freedom is the will of my soul,
and my soul is the will of the God.

The highness

I locked the pain inside of the body,
to transcendent,
alternate in wisdom.

I filled the jar with suffering water,
that needs to be drunk with peace
of Socrates.

The walls are mirroring my face,
my twin, The Lion,
straightening my shoulders,
healing my own skin.

I put my skull into the vase, art deco
of an empty space
where my bed remains without a sin

so I'll stop by to say thank you God,
even there is nothing to be thankful for.

The Trust

Here is the light and your word,
- spiral candle on the table,
burning those rhymes of my Lord
is promise of this matter stable ?

How can one keep his eyes opened,
when is blindfolded by a feather,
under your arms like a slice of fear,
just for tonight smells of your leather

and inhales the story unknown yet?

And what if one day, this all is dust
Laying on furniture of elder house,
Living alone with a cat and a mouse,
how long can last unspoken trust?

I wont feed pain of any essence

Last spring brought rubbish from the trees,
spiral twist whistling, full of bees
scented flowers jumping on the streets
like there was one who my world completes

They say we should get what we gain
Some things just cannot happen again
hidden in bush since was my heart
vage, alerted right from the start

Yet to beloved I am giving wings
to fly with their shame and sins
Yet I don't judge what do I know,
sometimes truth comes to us slow

but I won't feed pain of any kind:

does it make stronger our mind ?

Things that haven't happened yet

A world sung the rhymes about the river

I walked through her , carried on legs of mind

nailed to the body which was made to shiver,

hurt by the ground, unfriendly to my kind.



Memories suddenly just changed their sound

their shape remain me pages in forgotten book

now that they ‘re dead, buried in the ground

they seem less hazardous as they used to look



Then I asked: what is the weakness of the soul ?



I failed to search for a jar to forget the unknown

things that haven't happened yet are not yet known

life is a ride that shows us signals mixed

A cobby stone pavement that may be fixed