sábado, 8 de agosto de 2015

It's Augusto, or so they say. Be proud

Ol' good dope days
When I smacked my toes on trees
Hammered rocks for a laugh
Bumped my head on the concrete
More than once
It hurt, somewhat
I slipped, I swear
Or I would, given the allowance to lie
hard times ahead, look at the chances past
Were I that young again
Ol' good dope days
When I was naive and the days light
I could say good-bye to the sunset
Shouting for God to watch over my own
I could sing out loud
Without being considered insane
Ol' good dope days
When I felt as I woke up
That I had already won
Seize the day, no need to conquer
Or pay with labor the cost of survival
I got watched over, babysat, safe and sound
Ol' good dope days
When I was known by my sympathy
A gentle soul of sorts
Nice and all that shit
I fed spiders and did NOT step on ants
I rhymed on accident and enjoyed it
Spent time watching candles burn
Molded the wax on my hand
Gifts for my beloved ones
Ol' good dope days
I was afraid of the dark
And everything black
Nowadays I no longer fancy the reflection
And it powers it might hold
I break all mirrors
Dying just that extra bit inside
Ol' good dope days
When I shared my birthday
And all my friends played tag (not it!)
Guess I shouldn't have pushed them over the ledge
Broke their legs, misunderstood their advise
Shut down their invites, forgotten their names
Yet somethings never truly change
I paralyzed every time I heard my name
Signal that I was about to get shout at
Figure that's why I hold so many nicknames
My spine shivers, I cant stand tall
I never grew up to that part
Be proud, they said
They were proud, they said
Who's we I ask? No one answers.
Indeed a shovel and a hand-fist of dirt
Can truly break someone's heart.

sexta-feira, 7 de agosto de 2015

A journey we called hope

A lame dog moans
Not off sickness
Never aspiring disaster
A heavy heart wears her down
Amid fashion overdone
A depth to the eye bags
Gosh I am left wounded
Nicknamed childish
Sweet, bittersweet kiss
For I fucking hate kids

Cant I be reduced to empathy
This re-surge from underground
Deep down mere mental extortion
A black market where souls get blackmailed
A pointless need to compensate
perish the thought last it sinks in
Adjust is within the frame
that sets portable cause
Are we human then or only then
Dizziness spells, fog or mist
Battered, officer my judgement is not assault

____________________
Regret for a sub-par syndrome

I guess this is how cowards feel
everyday, anyway.
What a disgusting frame
weight(less), point(less), remote(less)
Existence per se
At least the tortoise has a purpose
The snail an empty shell he shall calls his own
Yet I feel shaken, thrown aback
If this heart is where my home shall be found
My chest, a hollow cavity
Without, chance he should return
'La fortuna si queda tranquila'

I guess that's how cowards feel at night
restless and weary
of what little use odds meet end
where opportunities have gone to die
at their very hands
Ares provides no mercy for beggars
At least robbers made a choice
We simply ran, startled by noise
possessed, in fright, unspoken
if ever it were meant to be
of all this combustion we call regret
______________________
Earth bond rest uninsured!
What savage choices
led to this pill of corpses
I supposedly saw
I must add, I had a lead
But lately I forget
Were I to stand against
what I assume I found wrong
Yet I digress;
my sky should shriek, then
my sea could bleed, then
my land would cease to exist
And if we were to meet again
My friend,
oh let it be in different ways.
After time and time again, my friend,
Has had the time to cleanse this land
Once, I concede, we had our fair rest
Sharing that childhood starlight for a roof
The green grass for a bed
And when in need your porch for comfort
Ahh astray, my will rose in flames
My spirit neither dust or smoke
Nothing short of those ashes there
For they range me calling from above
And it rings still
The last good man was taken, alas,
soon enough, as intended.
But I am not a reasonable man
My grieve shall be vile
In violence I shall rejoice
There IS NO tomorrow
Only a recollection of yesterday's news
How long h- , for how long
Were we meant to let go
my head wouldn't soak so
my hands could confide in another's
(drop that bottle, my friend)
And my feet could partake of another journey
'Whenever you are ready sir'
'Aye misters, lead the way and I shall follow,
to that promise land you spoke and off.
We are off.'