Why do you always have a gun?We'll never think what you did was rightnow there is chaos and fire tonightTell me, oh tell me, did you really have fun?Tell me, oh tell me, why do you always have a gun?Was it truly not hard for you to pull the trigger?Do you feel like a hero, do you feel bigger?Well, raise your flag of lies, with you it will burnAnd nothing will save you, not even your gunAre you genuinely afraid of the people you oppress?Are we all to blame if your brain is a mess?If you think we can hurt you look at all you have doneDo you still believe it's ok to have a gun?But we people are rising, we ran out of fearWe are all together, we are tired, we are hereYou can try to disperse us but we won't be goneFor we no longer care if you carry a gun
NothingEverything is so messed updon't ask me, I don't want to talk.Nothing has ever been less rightbut I won't cry, I just want to write.
Contradictory Suicide LetterIf you’re reading this…Dear everybody throughout the years,I’m trying my best to write this through tears.All I want to say is I have finally conquered my fears.It’s time for me to close my earsAnd start up my gears.I’m leaving everything behind.Today marks a new adventure to findWhat I wanted when I was confined—Life is telling me to unwind,For today starts my peace of mind.So, I’m putting away what harmed me.All my knives and all their words; I’ll be set free.I’ve gone through fires of the Hell that I couldn’t fleeUntil I saw my own foggy breath and fell into the sea,Where quickly enough I began to plea.I’m going to let go of my life and start anew,Correcting my mistakes and undoWhat I have caused that wasn’t true.So, I would like to thank youFor helping me get through—There’s no point in me being miserableWhen I have everything in my grasp and it’s unbreakable.So
Practicing DeathWhat are we really doing during those nights?What are these dreams that cloud our sights?The world is still and quiet while we restOur minds wander far off under the crestA low steady rhythm flows through our bodiesWe're at peace as we dream through our storiesSome of them are beautiful, nothing can compareAnd some are very horrible, a long nightmareWe see both worlds as we are practicing deathIt sometimes wake us, shortening our breathWhen we're awake, we are revived from the day beforeAnd finally at the end of the day, we "die" once moreWe practice death every night, a routineGoing into our imaginary afterlife, foreseenSo why are we so afraid of accepting fate?We've been practicing death up to this date
SenseDarkness stalks with impassioned gazeCoaxing sense, in sensuous hazeUndressing night, its shadow playsAlong shoreline curves, provoking waves
ContainersBy glass or by clayOn the surf of open dreamtWould quest in endless solitaryWherever the winds have sweptBy dark or by nightWith the stripes of light abreastReflections match their changeIn time to lay with buried bestBy wave or by calmLeft to stare with vision plainVeils of the stars could hideWhile slumber drift from ebbing veinBy clash or by castCrash with monstrous betrayOut amongst the arms to spanFlung a lost betoken awayBy whole or by someWith something gone to deepEyes cannot forgive their deedsAnd in the painful quiet weepBy rain or by breathsOf praying keel grant to its toneTo voyage on a lonely roadHold them up on broken bonesBy long or by foreverCome to find a field of wonderTo see the varied gatheringCurious sets of container
A Letter Written for My LoveLet me write this in a letter,For I can say it betterWhen the words that I writeAlways come out rightWhenever my fingers are readyAnd the words come out steady.So, here I spill the truthOf my fading youthFrom that little girl you knewAnd loved very dearly as we grewTogether and forever,Like we promised every day and ever.I can’t say it anymore simply:I love you wholeheartedly.You were different the day I met you.I could envision us together, something new,Although I was entangled with thornsOf poisonous roses upon Satan’s horns.Then did I escape his wrathTo fall onto a new path,Where we would find each otherAnd you would soon show me wonderIn the bright colors you knewDecades before I understood this one hue.I could expand this poemBy writing about the heavenly syndromeOf the colors and that hue,But, of course, I’d rather speak about youAnd how you managed to keep me sane,Easily washing away the pain.So, let me finish writingAnd
The Bull and Bear The Bull and Bear, by David Nicholas They say legends exist, yet none like this conceivedA bull and bear binged, at my bar one summer eveThe bull knocked back Sierras stronger than an oxWhile the bear had his “honey”, straight, on the rocksAs I poured their poison, I couldn’t help but noteThat this fearsome beast grew cocky and cutthroatShoved this Ussuri off his stool; no sense of remorseBragging with this distinct voice; both gruff and coarse“I’m the most ruthless and fiercest beast of allPicture of aggressive confidence; inclined to maulI’m the muscled marvel, the sublime steerSo fear me, furry freak, for you’re not my peer.”“Don’t test me, Toro; you’re not prepared for warI’ll gladly castrate you clean, spill guts on the floorMy claws will make you suffer, in ways myriadYour poise and muscle won’t save you, period.”“Two things come from Texas, they’re both
AutumnAutumnWritten by ChristheZoruaWinter may have its cold embraceSpring can jump into the seasonal blissSummer also has its warmthBut Autumn doesn’t even missWith the falling leaves and cool skiesAutumn doesn’t hold its criesFor when the people unite as oneAutumn knows to get the job donePeople may argue, “It’s Fall, not Autumn!”Those people are doubled and corrected as suchBut when the situation is glorified in a brace of mannerAutumn is a season that can really matter
GliscorGliscorWritten by ChristheZoruaGliding high in the skyLiving the dreamIvory plays inside his headSaving grace from the skylightsCan this creature fly at all?Or is it just a glider in disguise?Realization is his key to success
CavalosUm cavalo é como a força dos trovões:De mil deuses com a fúria galopando,Vence o campo a relinchar o seu comandoSobre tudo o que preenche as amplidões.Um cavalo é tão real quanto os leõesQuando a crina relampeja ao sol brilhando,E o exemplo que recai por sobre o bandoÉ uma dádiva dos tempos anciões.Entretanto, não conferem tal respeitoAlguns homens que os creditam ao preceitoDo labor sem nem sentido e nem descanso…E, no entanto, estão eles tão errados;São confusos esses homens depravados,Que o cavalo é rei do campo, nunca manso!…
Just another complaintI haven't understood the basis of my nature,I haven't understood the meaning of my life.I don't have an extended sight far towards my future,I'm just always feeling that I'm running out of time...