Owlets or Outlets?

from barn to bay
an outlet to our brain
everlasting peril and pain
my sleep will drain;

flee from the figth;
in a silent flight;
to recover the might;
no doubtful insight;

the first time
as scary as flight;
the truth is mine
might release your might...

glide with your wit
through the monsoon pit
where dreams are lit
and stars are still.

use YOUR feather.

The Lay of Ere (The White Story)

In the passage from ere
few there were
but amongst them,
were the gracious and grateful.

in a bay they were
all gathered, the four.
Fierce as the Sun,
he gave a bright roar;
Átika was the name he bore
in his face a black stain he wore.

Amongst the dark sky
there she was,
with her dark hide;
San was skylike
without knowing why,
she was brought in the night;

The third frizzy and mellow
was in fact a bright fellow
loved the meadows,
but lived for the barrows,
old and merry was Fowx;
and a little bit yellow;

Into the water they lean,
to remember a dream
of something before seen...

that was all;
which was known

The White Story - Beginning

from the inocent jungle
trying to live there, they gambled
until she made it enable
for them to explore a new angle.

She, the youngest of five
growing was a strife
but she still might;
be the end of such night.

Called by her birth date
The Youngest Daughter she was named
a delicate damsel and a fierce maiden
her fame chased her.

glorious for battles won
her father's kingdom;
was again strong
but her thirst went on.

winter came and so did the logs
crackling fire, and barking dogs

She was one with an unusual gift
dressed by the snow, a white glow lit
to her warm body the snow sticks
and a white robe comes from it.

Amazed they were
and some remembered a passage;
from ere...

Missed

Chaplin I've heard of
Bob Marley I've never saw
Jimi was a star
and the minutes took'em far;

Gandhi was there,
and everything was said
at what no one else would dare,
without fear he stared;

striding to power
he never cowered
with pride he devoured
at him they bowered

at the end he seemed a drifter
goodbye Hitlër;

Pelé was kind of skinny
the first to become "god";
like the many we saw;

the voice of Biggie
could be felt in any city
from India to Alaska,
we all know who is the big poppa.


like a boon from the sky
Hazel rocked my mind.

History of the Art,
once none would forget this part
Science began to scatter
and Art was left with few bearers.


I KNOW what happened before me.
Do the same...

Droga ou Capitalismo...

deitado
um pobre coitado
para muitos, desalmado
o passado, apagado
jamais esquecido
tudo ja havia dito
o vício do século
nos trouxe o cético

no começo a criamos
depois abusamos
a redescobrimos
e agora guerreamos

uma criação movida a ganância
uma decisão com muitas variedades
foi aplicada de uma só forma
hoje quem dela abusa
ela se torna

Beginning

Well, I never believed in this kind of "stuff" blogs and whatnot, for lack of a better MYnd, but it seems like a good idea right now so...
I'll start this way, I feel a little different than the usual person next to me... with that my mynd wanders to fathoms far far away from the real situation. In some of my "wanderings" I found a way to put such trips in some kind of writing, mostly poetry, crappy as I see it, and I don't maybe more. I don't even know what I'm doing but.
Feels kind of sad but it isn't.
Life rearranges everything like it or not, for good or worse but always having a meaning.