if only

if only time could reverse
and undo the mistakes i made,
i'd get the chance that i deserve
to i'd repeat them - i'm afraid.

if only you were as sweet
as ever you were before:
a fancy dress for the street
and pajamas on the corridor.

if only we could start anew,
perfect strangers we had to be,
we'd hide our love away from view
and keep it between you and me.

if only wishes became real,
as real as an elephant on ice,
we'd admit that what we feel
is the love which we entice.

if only words had meaning,
i'd write them on your wall;
they're empty, from the beginning,
and possess no use at all.

if only i were a poet man
or had the eyes of a dreamer,
i'd describe, with my quill pen,
this love - this burning fever!

everything dies

given enough time, everything stops. even the most energetic particle will, eventually, die.

beautiful thouht

so beautiful is the thought: the impossible may be possible; and you expect it and long for it.

the runaway loaf of bread

there once was a boy who lived in the city and even without joy he always was zippy. that boy was very poor and he smelled pretty bad, for the clothes that he wore were all that he had. after ninety-nine days, he saved ninety-nine quarters in many different ways for the baker's daughters. then, he set out to buy the biggest loaf of bread and if you'd ask me why i'd tell you what he said: "i was hungry before and i'll be hungry again, but not today, kind sir, for i'll eat some grain!" but as he stepped out, from the baker's door, all we heard was a shout coming from the store. "robbers, please go, i've nothing for you nor a wallet to show hidden from view!" nobody took care, so the boy was alone to handle the affair on a heart of stone. then, one robber said: "i see that you've got that big loaf of bread. is it true or is it not?" "'tis true, vile crook! for all you may take is but a quick look — mind your own sake!" the threat didn't stand and away they went with their prize in hand and the boy discontent. not half an hour later, there came the police and found a trashed paper — but it was only a piece!

on the paper 't was written an unknown address and the order was given: "let's clear out this mess!" all hurried to the scene and then opened the door to find everything clean, but a bottle on the floor. suddenly, a drunk appeared holding the loaf of bread and everyone cheered that he had not yet fed. he was asked how he came in such possession, but he was drunk — even now and so ended that question. and the boy got back his precious stolen good, but it was all black — it didn't resemble food. let me fill you in the details: the bread fell to the floor where it got covered in nails and hair and dirt and more. then, the robbers ran as they heard the commotion and devised the plan to meet back at the ocean. "my bottle must've shrunk, but what's this that i spot? it might just be junk or it might be not." said the town drunk as he picked up the bread and stored it in his trunk — something he didn't had! 't was when the baker and all his daughters agreed to offer their little neighbor some more bread and mead. my friends, do rejoice for all ended quite well and if i had the choice — oh, the stories i'd tell! let me ease your fears about those evil men, in prison they'll spend years — let's say... at least, ten!

the bird in a cage

once upon a forgotten time, long before someone started tracking,
i wondered how that marvelous creature endured such horrible racking.
from the skies there came flapping a black feathered friendly fellow,
whose name i cannot tell, for i was hiding in the meadow,
and from that shadow i stood very still and silently still i clearly saw
that which to this day i cannot forget and still stare back in awe.

"how cheerfully they laugh and play, god's innocent little plums,
but corruption conquers their hearts when darkness calmly comes,"
i thought, studying the phenomenon with my hidden eagle eyes,
it spread violently towards me, entangling me in vile lies,
and from those lies i saw a void - darker than the depths of earth,
that such eerie being couldn't ever be born by means of natural birth.

i tried to use the language of the stars, but was unable to speak,
every movement was carefully planned not to make a single creak.
i should've known better - that such tenderness was an evil blur,
how could've i anticipated the events that were about to occur?
the innocent winged fellow was locked in a cage - a very rusty cage,
surely unable to stretch or fly - as all he could do was wait and age.

how marvelous did he look, lost in a lingering slumber -
that he couldn't be wakened by the most violent thunder.
and that devil - that childish demon - fancied the black bird dead,
but at night - that childish demon - couldn't sleep alone in his bed.
he would moan, groan, sigh and sob until the very break of dawn,
unless he had his caged crow and all the darkness was gone.

then the boy and all his friends - with their eerie trends - agreed:
that to them the bird belonged and was to never be freed.
thus, the ritual begun - i saw - and the bird became very numb,
for the children did pluck his shadowy feathers one by one.
but it didn't move - as a creature would - and it didn't make a sound,
only i seemed to hurt, as i laid crying on the ground.

now, that time has passed and the boys are fully grown,
their cruel secret shall be kept another story unknown.
but their murderous eyes - with joyous joy - tainted my dreams,
so i've searched every store and tried all the vaccines
just to remain broken on the floor - as my soul tried to soar.
i shall forget you nevermore, my dear bird - whom i adore.

happiness

hear me! hear me! hear me!
and only this i beg of thee,
let - under this mighty sun -
echoe my speech, now begun.

someday, i will get to know
that feeling escaping me so -
like a child to sunday bath
and an opposite to my wrath.

the others

i see the worst in people, i choose to, so they have a chance to surprise me.
unfortunately, most never do.

archaic demon

hast thou thy peepers ready and yet
shalt we rest under the hot sun and set.
but down didst not bring thou that clown
that is next in line for the golden crown.
fulfilled and fat, wearing the nicest hat,
we long to get more of this and that.
alas, they've thrown us on the shore
to die as miserable as ever we were.

meet me in secret

last time we spoke
words weren't clear,
covered in haze or smoke
and untrue to the ear.

but things hardly seem right
when spoken out of spite,
we were so tired that night
to go and take the bite.

in here we make the stand
staring at each other,
afraid to move a hand
and make it all over.

silence won't be broken,
                            alone.
the words to be spoken
                are your own.

masks of blind and fool

it is, by far, our greatest desire
to live and die by a rule of fire,
to love all of our hurting foes
and ease all their restless woes.

how grand our names shall be
if our goodness others can see,
if we fail to commit a mistake
our wickedness will never wake.

worry not that weary heart,
it might never be torn apart,
it can not withstand danger
nor the love of a caring stranger.

lest we speak of distant lands,
death is carried by sparking sands,
death is a void we need not fear
for someday we'll call it dear.

empty promises they have made,
but then they ran and never paid,
but it is no matter we pretend
while we curse that vile friend.

how we like the puppet girl
and her legs that twist and twirl,
and her voice calling by name
doesn't feel at all like shame.

may our lives be full and long
while the mask is never wrong,
while we stand above them all
on the edge of a paper thin wall.

no beauty in a beast

there once was a beast,
an ugly beast of a man,
terrifying to the bone
and he lived all alone.

people would scream
calling him a monster,
so he decided to flee
to his castle by the sea.

during the thunderstorms
he could not sleep,
he'd stare the looking-glass
as time couldn't pass.

the wind whooshed,
he sat and listened
to that ancient song,
kept playing for so long.

there was no answer,
nobody to question,
but he'd cry out why
into the storm in the sky.

a strange man emerged,
before the dusty mirror,
each night again
as he grew insane.

then silence came
with intent to last,
the words were cruel
and the man no fool.

he gazed at the man
and he knew him,
but just couldn't see
that the beast was he.

when the lady came
he sent her away,
because a beast he was
and scare is what he does.

an atrocious being
all of them made him
and a planted guilt
in him was built.

but he was no demon,
let me assure you,
even if unpleasant
in the past and present.

no truer beasts exist,
all them scattered around,
as friends that pretend
and stab you in the end.

a dream of a dream

i had a horrid vision of my demise,
my flesh was torched and ripped,
my bones were sold as a hunter's prize
so only void would fill my crypt.

they sent reapers in angel's wings
to stop terror from taking me over
as i'd watch them crooked beings
disguised as my one true lover.

my neck was punctured fiercely
by their ragged wicked claws,
my organs were torn scarcely
and no one recognized who i was.

as i gasped for one more breath
there was only one of whom i thought
and it was enough to savor death
before my shards began to rot.

i remember holding a smile
mocking what was bestowed upon me
without a chance to go to trial
and perform my humiliating plea.

my heart was carefully spared
to suffocate for times on end,
to be pointed at and stared
and into the flames of hell descend.

still i carried my lover's eye
caged in my fading memory,
so i could just ask her why
she'd punish me with treachery.

then i woke to a painful grudge
and kissed my lover's cheek,
because i loved her just too much
i killed her. i am weak.

the moral of my story

in my life, i made but one mistake that i regret so.
that of being born, of course.

love letter from a knight to his long-dead wife

reckless fool, witch and more,
hear me out - now as before,
as i stand - here on the shore,
as a knight - from nevermore.

the end seems a good fitting
for a monster that's reminiscing
on his heart done-beating
for a love lost dreaming.

find it's a cold way to say,
you might admittedly say,
what was warm someday,
as warm as a summer's day.

pray, don't come near again!
all the cries were done in vain,
all the tears, mere drops of rain,
dripping from eyes insane.

words won't come out right,
nor "i love you, day and night"
for just living is a fright,
there's no you, there's no light.

hearing whispers all the time
became usual over a dime,
that was once rich and mine,
has been lost since sixty-nine.

one thing has never been said
since my lover was found dead
with the guilt over her head
for something she never had.

and thus the truth was spoken
and all distant lands awoken
for all that remains is a token
from when this heart got broken.

let me slip into immersion,
sleep into a new dimension,
dream stripped from imagination
to endure this pain, this desperation.

unburden before sleep

i feel weaker day by day and the end seems too far to wait for. if i resist, and surely i will try, then i can say "i did it, i reached the end." may it be all that i accomplish, may it be worth something.

the machine

a machine that has seen wear and tear,
far beyond the recommended share;
though you worked only once or twice,
and none of which was very nice,
you gained some sense on the rusty head
promising, never again, will it be read.

always have you told the truth,
hoping to remain in blinded youth,
but all you are is a sheet of tin,
and, for all that matters, quite thin.
wasteful efforts making you supreme
when you're so fragile, it would seem.

all of them joined you in mirth,
casting an illusion of their worth,
when they mistook you for a toy;
but every laugh was a decoy,
distraction from internal pain,
which grew larger and insane.

save the tears, they serve no good,
the hungry wouldn't have them for food;
nor the homeless in need of heat
would dare touch your putrid meat.
you've become hoary and forgot,
cease to think and begin to rot.

a picture of you

the sight of you, that once gave me shivers,
        that makes this man's heart tremble in awe,
'tis by far the sweetest dazzling picture
        of all the dazzling pictures that i saw.

won't you please smile for a tiny fraction,
        the tiniest fraction of a fraction?
and time itself would find a violent stop,
        and all chemistry would halt reaction.

let me carry, in loving memory,
        the one moment you were ever mine.
let me hold on to the empty promise
        that it won't split, our entangled line.

do be gone now, and be forever lost,
        for i've finally what gave me hope.
on the floor i thrust my father's chair
        as i hang with my neck on the rope.

alice's monologue through the looking glass

have you not heard, dear alice?
you're not in wonderland anymore,
your tears won't form a pool
to meet some bird friends on the shore.

stop crying about the key,
because there ain't even a door!
the mysterious eat me cake
doesn't make you as tall as before.

you might have kept your party
if dinah didn't eat mice.
you sure scared them to death
and that wasn't quite so nice.

you shouldn't chase rabbits
and be so curious all around.
sooner or later, a girl should know,
every mischief will be found.

after fighting a mother pigeon
and outgrowing the tallest tree,
you find, in a two-faced mushroom,
a curious caterpillar - ain't he?

but all these strange animals
go on talking such nonsense!
when you actually say a word,
they take it as an offence!

the lady with the pig-baby,
a duchess as they called her!
remember the cheshire cat
had a grin, but not a purr!

and it sure didn't help you choose
between the hatter and the hare,
for the buttered pocket watch
couldn't tell the time as it were.

in a table set for many
there were no more than three,
and you sat along with them
as they offered you some tea.

while you were listening stories,
there was no ticking in between,
so they kept switching places
rather randomly - it would seem!

then you decided to leave,
unannounced as you came,
to reach that familiar hall
to which now you know the game.

speaking of such, you had to play
to please the temper of the bloody queen.
first you run to seek a friend,
next he's nowhere to be seen.

and the quarrel with the king,
which you were supposed to end,
rested on a couple of heads
that the queen wouldn't mend.

you're such a good girl - you know,
when some people are such a bore!
an open ear for the duchess' morals
and you couldn't bear it anymore!

everything's fine, dear alice,
don't ever you dare to be sad!
you heard the mock turtle sing
now, that's not so bad.

so they sent word for you
to trial that who stole the tarts,
for in the court room they accused
the poor frightened knave of hearts.

and everyone made their presence,
be it as a witness or such.
they had animals for jurors
and the king dressed as judge!

after alice there came a poem,
apparently stripped from any meaning,
as they read each and every verse
'till the end from the beginning.

and everyone went very mad
as you so hastily grew,
that when the sentence was read
it was clearly meant for you.

all the cards pilled up in a stack,
but you angrily threw them a slap.
ain't it the queerest thing
waking up in your sister's lap?

so come on, dear alice,
don't look so glum,
for all that matters
you were much too young!

considering this and all of that,
you are quite surprised to say
that, really deep inside of you,
you'd like to be back someday.

friends, maybe not

i have a friend, whose friend is my friend too,

but my friend's friend has another friend

and that friend doesn't know me or you.
perhaps he's not a friend after all,
just some poor and old scary - who?

agnes, the forgotten beauty

come all, young and old,
        come closer and hear this story.
some say it was love and passion,
        some say it was fame and glory.

it starts with a man,
        who started as a boy,
whose love was a fierce flame
        no heart could employ.

the girl was pretty and skinny,
        after all the food she ate.
she was to remain forever captive,
        unless love could change such fate.

the hero's name was eric,
        after the glorious kings of sweden,
and all the women in his land
        had been to him forbidden.

one day, someone said agnes
       was the heart no one could tame,
that the king had made her prisoner
        and outlawed her cursed name.

the hero and his group,
        as loyal as friends can be,
agreed on an ambitious heist
        to set the imprisoned lady free.

upon arriving on the scene,
        the king's guards awaited them all.
not enough was the dark cover of the night
        to make their presence insignificantly small.

"open these gates" - said the valiant hero,
        "or kill us one by one!
the evil doings of your reign of terror
        will be tonight undone!"

the king replied "calm yourself, foolish man!
        her love has never been mine,
after a lifetime of blinded devotion.
        go, and meet your valentine!"

but many years have gone by,
        the brightful youth did not wait.
agnes had suffered the flow of time,
        her mind trapped in a delusional state.

she had wrinkles on her face,
        the eyes have lost complete sight.
her hands trembled from disease
        as she brushed her hair turned white.

a witch once said to her
        "you will be forever young,
unless to die is your deepest desire
        because in here you don't belong."

so has she patiently waited,
        for darkness to carry her home,
and she would greet it with a tender kiss,
        and she would be no more alone.

but eric saw no age,
        he saw agnes in her best,
red lips and toned skin,
        his heart tried to burst his chest.

but desire and illusions
        do not paint a very nice tale.
her life slipped through her eyes,
        the body rested frozen and pale.

thus remained, in respectful silence,
        all the men standing there.
thus each wondering in their own mind
        "is ever life true and fair?"

are we left waiting for love
        to come by some special day?
do we promise never again
        will we love when it's away?

there are questions, but no answers,
        there is love and uncertainty.
it is only on the verge of death
        that we see life beautifully.