Short Poems Of A Busy Life

 

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DEATH

   When death comes

It's already too late. 

She brings nothing

To the bright nothing he already is. 


Where does it go the last breath?

To where does it go the strength,

Which brought him so far from here,

To this very last moment?


Where does it go, the conscience?

And the matter?

And the immaterial,

The untouchable and invisible?


God only loves us in life. 

After that, it's total oblivion,

The forever void,

The eternal dark.


So great is the emptiness

that it becomes nothing,

It doesn't reaches any kind of concept

That we might have from nihil. 


Are we part of the same fate,

If we just believe?

And if we don't believe,

Shall we have no fate?

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PERPETUAL

    Blood of mine, my billows. 

Round and around,

Don't know if I'm already alive

Or, in other times, nor dead. 


Should life been more generous 

If I had renounced,

Left my own self,

Forgotten and behind?


Should've ended as I am,

Or started as I wanted?

Started yet terminated,

Or ended right in the beginning?


I remember things I don't know the name. 

I remember someone I don't even know. 

I do things to forget,

And wreck others still to create. 


What have I been living?

Who's lie?

Mine in the raw meat,

Or the cooked truth of others?


Round and around 

And again I ask:

How to walk straight 

In a rounded word?


And so, I stop in a perpetual movement,

Standing on this curve,

Waiting to find myself on the way back,

Or just to be found. 

..............................


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DEPARTURE

    When I leave 

Everything will stay.

Everything will keep going,

On a dance beyond times.


In that revolution, 

Constant remaking, 

So do I’ll be a part,

Although already changed. 


It won’t be me

But mine,

The followers of this legacy,

Towards the forthcoming. 


Although I’ll be already deceased,

In rotten fleshes,

Also they’ll be in mutation, 

Eternity is my destiny. 


I keep forward

Thus no one knows me,

Thus they don’t feel me anymore

Or alone I don’t be. 


I keep what doesn’t belongs to me

The dying fleshes,

The hollow eyes,

The lifeless skin. 


I took what wasn’t mine,

This clothing blood,

Offered in a plate, 

To be devoured on the boards.


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