This Is...

Mouse's singing,

Horses jumping,

Stars twinkling,

This is Christmas;

This is love;

This is happiness,

You and I forever more.

Red, White, Green...

Red, white, green...

Those are the colors I love.

Red, white, green...

Come and let your beauty show.

Red, white, green...

Come to my house tonight;

 Let your powers shine,

Heal what has been broken,

And make my heart dance.

The Hole

A deep, dark hole consumes the hearts,

of the young, the old, and the restless.

It hunts them down during the night,

And consumes their hearts during the day.

They All

Pull, strike, kill...

That's what my heart desires.

Pull, strike, kill...

Take them all.

Pull, strike, kill...

Turn them into dust.

Let Them

Pull the strings,

Sit the tiles,

Let them dry,

Let them go,

Let them swing,

But never let them rule.

A New Day

A new day is made

out of tears.

Is composed out of anger, hate,

Love, and even joy;

A new day is made out of you.

Is composed of your

wicked smile and

devilish blue eyes,

that drive to paradise.

Pretences

Close your eyes.

Don't think,

Don't cry,

Don't talk,

Don't laugh;

Just listen and pretend...

Pretend to be wise,

Pretend to be old,

Pretend to be strong

And let it all out.

Waiting

I have waited for a century...

I have waited for the day;

The day that I finally lose myself;

Lose myself in the darkness of the night,

In the freedom of the air,

And the beauty of the world.

Take

Take the flower

kill the bug.

Take the flower

kill the eyes.

Take the flower

kill the soul.

Take the flower

kill me All.

Fighting

Shadows... that's all I see,

That's all I sense.

They crave my blood;

they crave my soul.

They hunt me down, they push me down.

They want me dead... I know they do,

but I will win and they will lose.

The Guard

Guarding the gates to heaven is a man,

Whose name is written in water and beauty is beyond compare.

His eyes are like the ocean,

His skin is soft and warm.

His hands are big and welcoming;

His voice is deep and caring.

He is a royal guard;

He is a soldier;

He is an angel;

He is my lover.  

Unknown

Playful smile,

Seducing eyes;

Who? What?

Is it my child or is it my lover?

Is it my friend or is it my brother?

Look

Look up. Look down.

What do you see?

Do you see me?

No, I see nothing but shadows

wondering through the clouds.

I see nothing but darkness

in the corner of your eyes.

I hear nothing but sadness in the

tone of your broken voice.

I feel nothing but colness when I

see you laying still.

Pain

The naked trees are shivering.

They are not shivering out of coldness,

but rather our of pain.

Pain... Pain...Pain…

The pain of this gray day and the unmerciful

Rain that melts my tears into salt and ash

And condemn my soul to darkness.

Remember

I remember you...

I remember you when I see the Sun smiling;

I remember you in the movement of the wind.

I remember... I remember...

I remember everything we had and did'nt have

and the pain that came with it.

The Game

In the line that defines gravity

stands a heart, a liar, and a witch

playing a sacred game;

a game that screams regret,

 hate, and thousand tears.

A game that kills its players

and turns their heart into

cold stone.

To Forgive

To forgive is not to forget.

Yet it is the key to life.

To forgive is to move on and

To forget is to kill the soul.

Therefore, neither should be done.

Actions

What the heart has done
Can be destroyed by hate.
 It can be destroyed by envy and meaningless demands;

It can be destroyed by angels and demons alike.

The Path

The past, the present, the future...

Everything co-depends  in the hands

of the brave and the hearts of the wise.

Decision

To live or die?

To kill or save?

Should I kill to safe my soul or

Should I die to save my heart?

Should I save my heart to save my body, mind and soul?

Or should I kill the heart to kill the thoughts that

enslave me to this irrational world? 

Memories

Going through the memories of an Elf

activates the pain that sleeps within

their demonic heart.

It risks the existence of mankind and

endangers the balance of Earth itself.

The Light

The light of the world has gone

To sleep and no one knows when it might awake.

It might awake in November, perhaps in June or September.

It might awake in the dawn of life itself

Or in the single death of a butterfly.  

Star

Observant. Distant. Alone. Objective.

What are you? Who are you?

Can you come down?

No, I’m your past;

I’m your future;

I’m your confidante;

I’m a star and I inhabit inside

Your soul.

Night

Shadows, darkness,…

Demons that torment my soul and

Kill my mind. Demons that

Imprison my body to a cell full of wolves

And devilish spines

In the middle of a starless night.

Power

The mind of Zeus

 

chained Athena; it knocked down the heart

 

of Apollo; it condemn Hades to

 

the underworld, and it made my mind go nuts on a broken paradise.

See

I walk through a path full of darkness.

I see nothing but butterflies devouring each other.

 I see nothing but pain in the eyes

Of my people. I see…

I see my life in fast-forward; I see

The end of the world. But how can this be?

Has the world gone mad or it just me?

Walk

To walk and leave everything behind;

To walk towards the sunset and never come back.

Is my un-comprehended dream, not my reality.

Pretences

To live like a saint and die as a sinner,

Takes a decent level of

Hypocrisy and evilness.

It takes shyness and fake smiles; it takes an

Envious and hateful heart; it takes

Everything that I am not.  

Friend

An enemy or an ally?

What is a friend?

Is it a star or perhaps a flower?

Is it happiness or sorrow?

Oh…No, dear Liz

A friend is a Lucifer…

Cruel, lovable, tentative, protective, envious

But overall a wolf in the skin of a sheep.

Ocean

The ocean is full of tears;

tears as quiet as the night

and as deep as the Pacific Ocean.

To Lose or Win

To lose is to win and to win is to lose;

then why do we care about winning?

If to win is to lose and to lose is to win.

 We should care about losing

to then care about winning.

Since winning and losing are the same.

Confuse

Don’t confuse my tears for weakness.

 Don’t interpret my goodness as a sign of holiness.

I am the Devil in four wheels

and I will devour you in your sleep.

Death

Death is the companion of the lonely.

Death is a dream within a dream;

is an ever ending dream.

Death is the eternal promise of forgiveness

and beauty in the darkest and most

unprecedented form of love.

Death is nothing more than the reflection of our hypocritical

and corrupt self; is and will always be the most unpredictable

 and significant phenomenon in the world.

Yet humans forget and try to defy Death,

by begging or praying to deaf Gods that are

 too narcissistic and jealous of humans’

mortality to hear their worthless laments

and come to their rescue.  

Death is a cruel invention of the Gods to weaken

humans’ heart and condemn them to the

darkness of the Underworld.

The One

Why do you enchain my soul?

Why do you hate me?

Is it because of my color, my tone, or my shape?

Don’t you dare judge me!

 Yeah, you… I am talking to you,

who pretended to be deaf, blind,

and mute to not hear my desperate cry,

to not see my innocent blood,

to not speak against your master.

You… you my Brother.

Brother you left without return to a heaven where

 I was not invited. You left knowing that I was a prisoner

and a slave of the world;

you left knowing that no one could replace

you and that my love was unconditional.

Brother, you left to a land full of

 shadows and isolation.  

A place where only the brave and

desperate go wishing upon the colors of the rainbow.

In this place, not even tears or

unhappiness exists, only peace, love, and eternal youth.

Youth to explore and forgive, to play and

dance like the rain in a sunny day.

Brother I don’t lie; I miss your laughter and

even the ugliness of your soul.

I miss those deep and evil blue eyes

that used to teach me bad from good.

Those eyes that were able to make me say the truth

even when I did not want to, that made me cry when they were closed,

 and made me love the fact of being young.

Brother, fly and live like you never did before

and don’t ever leave me behind again with a

responsibility bigger than my shoes.

Brother, I must admit;

 I hate the fact that I am unable to hate you more than you hate me.

I hate that my hate is as powerful as the hate of God towards us humans.

 

Fly

Fly little bird,

And don’t be afraid of falling;

I will catch you if you fall.

Fly little bird, fly…

Spread your winds like the wind

And don’t look back.

Fly little bird, fly…

Show your beauty and greatness to the world;

You are beautiful and grandiose,

You are the epitome of life itself.

In Silent

Within a shell near the sea,

 inhabits a quiet voice.

 A voice that is lost in time and the darkness

 of the night. A voice born out of regrets,

sorrow, and a million scars.

Scars that carve a path directly

to the heart.

A heart that is enchained

to the body of a slave.

A slave that has no voice

or a master to serve.

The voice within the shell is

nothing more than a bird;

a bird that has no time nor desire to fly.

To fly and explore a world

full of a thousand beauties.

 A world with only one Christ and

a million heartless Hitler’s.

Hitler’s that condemn the voice

to inhabit in the dark.

To forget about the past and the wisdom of the stars.

The stars that judge up high

and pull the strings of life.

The voice within the shell

lives out of humans hate.

The hate that consumes their souls

 and make them inhumane.

The Bird

In the darkness of the night a bird came singing by.

A bird that had no eyes to see the morning light.

A bird that had no smile due to its lack of heart.

A bird that had no wings to escape the prison bars,

That chained its soul to mine and made him a butterfly.

Condemn

Not a soul shall be condemn to the darkness of this room;

That slashes your soul apart and tints your wings out of the blue.

This room full of secret shadows

That hunt your heart at night, that makes your body

Whisper and your feet tremble bad.

Not a soul shall be condemn to die alone in the dark.

To die without respect and a ray of light at dawn.

To die facing the moon in the coldness of the stars.

The stars that judge up high and pull the strings of life.

Not a soul shall be condemn to grief alone in this room;

This room full of past spirits and the solitude of winds.

Father

Your smile hurts my soul,

It devours my innocence.

It leaves me bleeding an ocean of tears.

Tears that come when not needed; tears that burn;

tears that create a passage between the pitiful corners of my mouth

and my glorious cheeks. Tears that make the heart

ache and the body crumble. Tears that make me hate the warms

of the Sun and the color of the Sky.

You… Yes, I am talking to you Father.

You who have forgotten my name; who has forgotten

the color  of my eyes and even the day of my birth.

You who deems lies white,

And demand respect at the top of the hill.

You who have forgotten the passage home and the

Route to my arms; I am talking to you Father…

My hero, my rock, my killer.

The Dark Voice

Writing is a quiet voice that kills and devours humanity.

Its hunts the strong and empowers the weak.

It gives freedom to the rebels, and a sanctuary to the devil.

Writing is the force that breaks through the walls of time, and the chambers of the heart. Writing is the foundation of the soul and a weapon of the mind.

Writing is my eternal companion and greatest ribald.

He exists to destroy me, and I to make him live.

He fills himself with hurtful words that slowly destroy.

He pretends to be objective, yet he condemns my soul to the darkness

of a land, that I have never known nor will never reside.

He pretends to be deaf, to not hear my demands.

He pretends to be my friend, yet he stabs me in the back.

He pretends to be impartial, yet those who made him are corrupt.

 He pretends to be in time, yet he is always late in darkness.

He pretends; he pretends to be the things that I can’t be,

 to see the things that I can’t see,

to hear the things that I can’t hear.

He, Writing is my greatest joy and weakness.

 When I am happy he lacks sympathy. When I am sad he overtakes my steps.

He covers my weakness with evilness and makes a mask

out of my sorrow. A mask able to portray his greatness.

No one comes to him if it’s not through me.

And no one comes to me if it’s not through him.  

Writing and I seem to posses what the other lacks.

We are part of a greater plan.

He frees my soul from this corrupt world.

He gives me love, freedom, justice, and peace.

He seal my demons and I let him live.  

 

Burning

My heart is burning, my bones, fragile;

I feel them breaking apart, demanding freedom .

The breaking is soft, slow, painful, agonizing… delightful?

For I prefer dying than cowardly giving myself to the tyranny of

society and its unconventional norms. I prefer losing my soul to Hades

than conforming to them who demand justice,

yet go behind the walls of Greece like the carnivorous Sphinx

devouring the lifeless corpses of the ignorant and naive.

They forgot that those corpses were the ones that gave them

power and brought them light in darkness; they forgot who they

were and from where they came; they forgot their humanity

 in the process of becoming aristocrats.

Bad seeds that pollute the Earth!

Disgraceful individuals who only seek your own fortune,

I wash my hands from your tyranny;

I would not hold myself accountable for the blood

of the innocent, nor the fall of the empire;

 I am innocent and as an innocent being I will die

facing the light. But you my fellow friends;

 my disciples remember that a life in chains is no life.

 A life without choices and in repression is

worse than death itself, as death is the path to freedom.

I wait your arrival at the Elysian Fields.

 

The Weak

Only the weak are cruel.

They are headless horseman’ who

are influenced by the force and vitality of

the horse and not its darkness.

Therefore, I am like the wind; powerful, free, and unforgiving.

I am influenced by nothing less

than my own pathetic will and arrogance.

I am wild, brutal, and destructive. I don’t let

the Coriolis or pressure influence my

course or power.

I decide where, how, and when

to go and come.

My own influence has granted me

knowledge, wisdom, and greatness. I have

discovered and excelled in the arts of lies, bretayal,

and fakeness. Thanks to my own influence

I have become the epitome of a Goddess.

I am a major influence in weather patterns, the

production of ocean waves, and the

formation of desert regions. My

own influence has made me strong,

mature, individual who is willing to accept

failure and adversity as a necessary

part of the innovation process.

It has made me a heartless cold hearted individual

who only seeks a glimpse of light and warmth, in the

world submerged in the oblivion of time.

A world full of more strangers and weeping than

you can understand.

A world more dangerous than a loaded pistol

in the hand of a child.

A world in which ignorance is blessed and

reality condemned. Where

I am alone…

and no one seems to notice but me. My own

influence has made me who

I am today. I am like the wind;

you can’t see it but you can feel it.

Who You Are

Your motto is freedom

Yet you enchain my soul.

Your philosophy is equality

Yet you are unfair to my kind.

You motto is peace

Yet you kill without restrain.

Your philosophy is unity

Yet you refuse and denial my existence.

Your motto is love

Yet you punish me with solitude.

Your philosophy is greatness;

You rule the world

Yet you rule without compassion.

How cruel are you my God?

Oh God!

Oh God!

Oh God!

Don’t leave me in the darkness;

I am afraid of its creatures,

I am afraid of its manners.

Oh God!

Oh God!

Don’t forget about your child;

I am afraid of the fire,

I am afraid of the water.

Oh God!

Oh God!

Don’t abandon me like your Father.

Iris

Who I am? Am I a flower, a butterfly, or a demon?

Should I no longer be concerned about this world?

I am a blooming flower that wants to

someday change back into a flower bud.

I am the byproduct of a wither culture,

the flower bud of a demon.

I am an Iris; deep and mysterious.

I am the eternal promise of renewal, rebirth, and the

transformation of monotony into delight.

I am the symbolic representation of wisdom, faith, hope,

commitment, and eloquence. However, as a flower

I must scatter away at some point.

Abandon the protective stem, and face my destiny.

Abandon the conservative environment that controls and

restricts my thinking;

that chains me down to a dyed crimson soil.