Kategori: Poesi

Before ballads chase this element of time or this bored smile dying
the green clown and i becomes nothing
Space across the will of the big riding above is often me in the clouds of an exiled pass of time altering those infinite pasts memories
That night is you beyond my will
My mistress of blood to summon up the search

Cooling transparent lips having passed the absurd to evil me with undoubtedly unaware floors
The luminous fever under myself resembles the naked dark reason you meet controlling you
They speak your poses and you embrace them as they mask nothing of you to others
But they unveil you to fruitful lightning

The living me lives in a herd of regrets and survive those of you in the struggled nothing you have provided in the hunt for human havings
I am keeping my thousand earth seasons around me for decency
What balance is me in the cultivated yet made of in this imprisoned mask?
I am just a harvest of myself

It is itself of the emptying
The who to the lamp
The don’t and my falling, gently
Dare them to move my chimney in which everybody in separation decomposes

From This wall in cold ink
the nights towards the never goes into the smell of a will
The blue hollow meets land with the garden child of moments being the time lost only to the known and far from this
It is where my judgment pick the beautiful path of why and with i like

From the white of things and the waiting covered as something hollow
The stars moves the even word from the old unseen night sky
And the touch for places with that unconscious subway life is in the sealed excerpt but it is not shedding time only
Soft gestures of morning bodys soaked in pieces of ourselves we each like and try
It is the right mind of escape

The land and i are wandering in something like a whisper from a dreaming too far under the conscious voice of my mind
Vainly these eyes are leaving my substance there in a wakening
A balance will hammer me with some kind of certainty of the last made, to honor the transparency
This beating is the fragment of echoes destined for me
All i have is the impulse by one really lasting argue descended to refuse a day always on I
My tired nails thinking themselves into being as i am tracking the first story outliving the fear riding the cities as a draped cry that clusters the acknowledgement of memories against the early layers of intimate sunlight
It is a compromise of lips and heart
an autoplay backup out of an imitation

We prefigures our clarity
and cover the silence with the mad bouquet that miles the deep retreat of promises to the illusion of vanished gifts between its passing of the sleep
Its a mistake of art
A decorative torture of matter

The sun moves again
And nourish this abstracted light that wraps in a great black of alone to the born flame we grow in a twighlight
From that so of people i am, the sudden garment around the circle of grace in any hour of life, turn black into gold
The hybrid remain of any orphan indecisions of the crowd
have already changed how my silence is spent

The my with an unbelievable magnitude
to that of a child’s holes and content in a vertical mingling
I am a host with matches of a magnetic tongue
The I to become the clockwork hourglass axe
beneath the insensible mirror lips of my unfolding
It is suddenly the making of myself remembered

I too are trembling to infinity from ice
Like in a handful of grief outside the sagittarius,
i am the long morning with which only those of willing was to become carved and made to consult the numerous of myself to keep the connection
I am they then, and there is an account provided about the inside of the night making a charmed staircase appear out of nowhere
It made itself
I tear the seized door but stands while the bed is turning me to each remembered going
That will be the most of my day for keeping
I am watching the nights sound still down there
Beating the places to an unarmed life

The sure nothing we will love not to having wanted to attempt is vast in one man
My body dreams us well and its indifference have words of water we shall dissolve and measure, despite we still put flesh in
The signs of more replies to the mechanical appetites dancing across my reduced absurd reassuring is still in there

Past voices are fixed on that dreaming destiny who becomes bewitched by longing the infinities without complete findings of air
Our morning minds desires stays of those faces we light in the tree tops as we voyage a wandering enemy from the bored marvellous eyes on a vigilant
My painted chattering of we in one, plays effortlessly and stings you
Other hearts climbing the destiny island in perfumed fruits, whose bitter nothing ground the vision and dissolves the stars enjoyment within us
Our sadly walls can still read the treasures to travel towards yesterdays strange genius of tales, reflected to take things for themselves to gaze the horror
Be a vast end and bridge today before forever
Leave the crowds to the old
The reach of that true chanting heart always pleasures the desert

Imagination desires my own entrusted error
What often seemed too human among life attempts in time by amorous words
passing my necessity to all of not this in enclosed certainty out of touch
It virtues the permission of obsessions to conquer by looks
in all of our attitudes and the obstinacies to debit our bodies
Ideas with so you of likeness, water the journeys beneath the emerging crowds
I end among late cities
Of memories between acknowledged streets you draped with the sky on a layer of eternity against the intimate you ruled
Our disputes by each needing the flame of a single blue star of joyful appearance
It nourishes my early living walls
Of come to these transparencys of mine in your sleep as ways of bundles
As multiple roads of you in here

Worlds from nothing still inside the manifold subtle me with eyes
are cancelled on a being
I will call my enfolded passenger here as i am installed today with the discreet each confronting the other with a new geography
I am all downhill hands with silence and old burnings to the walking masses moving agony
It descends me no high

I account there is a passerby of willing pamphlets
as there are distributed fingers in the windows were boredom passes
Others of you may change the plants that provided the entrance of children to see if that were under their numerous parts
I have been like that to people
and I will turn if and I, are replaced with the names of my second steps to others less my being back are still there
I often turn their music tears out of its perpendicular re-entrance to a reasonable accept of census
only to add myself mischievously then
Thats how i am
The not no of me

Oh, i am questioning the pleasures of my exposed plundered dream wrapped voice of harvest cities
like openly out believed, i did bring it into the neverless of speak
Your kissing eyes controlled that hidden intensity
and my shivers opened it with the lipless answers you swallowed
I was visually relieved
My oh was then the frightened mind of the sweet soul doing this open why only
This is what i cherished

Ships of seductive gleams wakes me to extract veins of old blood from shameless ballads maids
It is the imprint of beautyful dreams
And of furiously returned clothes before the sonorous silence, interrogating the pavements
The white sleep and waking crowned the not to long gone sky in illuminated watching of an afraid remain speaking
The pitiless proud satin were let to the holy darkness, now that the night was the last of its suburban terrible shadow
Only wings of singing persists by the beautiful streets
And they marked the followed back by projecting itself on the aged rainbows in your unreality, by slowly framing a desperate wind
But any transparent colors of satisfaction has already changed me long ago

Fair clouds leads through every future
keeping the presence to go on, on itself
A virtue with frail blood for which our trail,
the always worn cold trees have crossed to blind the nights familiar sky
The forest alone having the reflection it takes to ruin a face from clarity in its cradle
This reason rises only to the body
Whether we with hands in any age fingers an afar passing to the earths bonding threshold
the whole, still have a mans changed heart of nothing
to place ways to the delicate returning of the visible to all mornings
And with each and everyone
it is what it takes to prepare the fury

I often heard my nothing
and in having most of this only
I will error time
This is the what, and with my was, i like to desire language
The I do not water the language of imagination
and time is not the best of myself
The indifference of floated friends proven the creatures enough between us
My not in words is always speaking here
to convince my enclosed wanted human in me
It is the world as it seems to be
It is the known world

The dream in seven wonders of life
A fantasy shut and felt
Of flesh who demands motion
Without you
in any million roads of doubt
The perfumes are going and nights closed there in
but in no mind
I see myself appear in the rhetoric sun

All her golden hair where seated in a tragedy
playing before a day from without a world
combing her long memory as our one was
We signify it and seek her heart
We set the pleasure at and end
hearing her world mirror treasures
of long silken reflections for our day that flowers me
with a wordlessly might
It was the harp that rendered her middle
It divided the who

The wonder the head blends
shall become the engraved hand
To a thousand of yourself repeated
We sleep in pairs to mourn history
before the evil foam of where before
To the absurd miles of human lips
That, not I
is were blood coloured fighters talk
Between the made to
and the love you always hate
Willing the oppression to the coolness
between the reborn and the will
I speak of the innocents
The Broad self between
injustice skies and the dark warmth of hope
There is
and are you
We have to go

Reality are the we who dreams the flaming reaches
The you in the hand and I
as sleep beings well made
into the moment
In daylight the night stars a not tuned
They remain in doubt and collide in the light
with piercing metamorphoses
when a vast guardian will kiss you
The fantasy is hiding in and
autoplays the dream of the lead crows
with past spaces
Figures are leaving the reality of beautiful illusions
They are made of twilight

The I
and its narrow eyelid cries
It overflows the sound of walking
when we roam the footsteps in mute lanes
The fragments of apocalyptic capitals
clotted the descending creatures
with temptations
enveloped over streets in tears
A population by another branch
virtues math in distilling memories
And around the flesh is a smooth width
of the almost other
The void is a darkened city with a crown

Forget the pale opera like any injured ibis
Dawn the red letters over the murdered windows
mirrors are above, behind that
Name the roses
There are forever threads over a wing of riders
It is the sensitive nights of the seized last
But enough of that splendid pardon
I pardon the round weather!
Since life is my raindrops quivering of full proof
With love on fury
and all of my days on fine manners are now departing

The astronomy of a liquid mind
Like a leaf of the last magnitude
burned by distant colors
It will reassemble you
and the vulgar herd that forks us into the infinity
with shoulders of champagne
We are left behind on the white earth
Like a doll that opens and closes its eyes
to the plants
I’ve made a census of the stones
by immense barometric roots
amazed of the time of any childhood story
Of strange figures, to born and to disappear
all of the demands to be felt
without ever appearing
We still know the passwords
the three part shadow of troubled sleep
and the comet who comes to nest at midnight

Slowly over every horizon
in all of my ways of being
into my senses of a child
to that of an old man
I have all the living here
born of the human heart
At the foot of the sky
and a wall of wet leaves
In a fantasy of daytime
i am here
and i will continue you

Being between two mirrors
and all my torments
I have cultivated
things that are very vague
I have this certainty
from under my eyelids
born of my imagination
All things moves in me
Its where I voyage

Tenderness and cruelty
that perfects itself
on my innocence
and the first shivers
of dawn,
embraces my heart
The sweet law of men
we make from kisses
Of seeing
through the noise
i breathe in
Of mans heart in mine
are no longer real to me

The necessity of speaking
to enter me
in front of this
feminine land
All moves in me
on ancient shoulders
dissolves
under my tongue
at the meeting of our pleasure
I shall endure you
to lose myself
We shall not wait until morning

The unknown face
of some passerby
and the scales
of my feelings
In every instant
That is,
the obvious directness
of nothing
And the vulgar acrobatics
of the words
that makes them up
This is my theatre
of spontaneity
The line of my horizon
on a quiet day

Many times
I am fighting furiously
at the foot of my bed
I go out at night
to paint the stars
as long as my temple
remain in reach of my reality
I call to myself
all night
I roar at my feet
since I alone
may command their nightly work

To be the blacksmith
and to forge
a circle of man
To follow my vertical way
to be
at the hour of endless marvels
of your radiant looks
while you are beside me
There is a you
in me
that persists
on its reflections

Without bowing
to my fragile form
to the wandering transparency
of the roads
To the reasons for living
I would not see
the imaginary other
The reflection of the ways
of moss and trees
my weight
taking possession of the earth
I hold your hand
and I watch
the public voice
the madness we have to bathe in
hiding in our heads

Like flies on our lips
will turn their heads
for understanding
Why go deep
wearing your cross on your nose
It is
a matter of life
my dear sir
To drop yourself quickly
On the surface
of a forced circumstance
accurately knowing
what you have sensed all day
I will not mind myself
in the doorway of my heart

To be a becoming
A subject
of your seductive dreams
A reflection
of its chambers
Of poetic myth
more silent
vague and pleasant
than you are
In the delirium
of your image
Every moment this herd
takes the wrong path
I only become its prisoner
And you
I will find you
so far away from me

A cradle at the end
of another voice
Reduced to a room
of broken mirrors
With my mouth upon your pillow
released in a change
to the forgotten splendour
of the sky
To become earth
without worry or suspicion
We will know this
or mourn alone
closed in a dream
to possess an illusion
With tears that no one else wants

Silence will pass
over the city
I will hear it
kindly with my lips
But hunted
with its imprint
I lived there
so far from me
and the balance
that i was born in the act
of its presence
behind my identity
with its seductive subject
and no one else
at the foot of my bed
Watching the darkness
whose curtains you were moving

These children arrive
dressed in your exile
to disappear
with a glance
on the eyelids’ colour
They arrive
flowered by autumn
at the heights
of whirling movements
And whoever they are
they are great forgetters
and keeps your heart alive

We are slowly poisoned
by our fate
And by flowers
in a rhythm of being
which are nothing
but flowers of hawthorn
Crying the plunder
of our human shade
As it appears for you
like in a wild breeze
so many of us has forgotten

There before me
under the layers of time
are those
who are drowned
At the surface
unable to do a thing
in the ruins of fascinations
and the delirium
of being
We imitate

The chamber of nothingness
of presence and absence
The only heart of things
An invisible ark
of cries and lights
that conspire
where brains are brewing
to consume every horizon
during a long day
That you close
by means of which I will greet you

A circuit
of no longer
Of all I have lived
Of daylight
covering the world
with time
and innocence
Beyond even myself
A landscape that matters little
to the art of reasoning
and dead ink

Into the void of roads
of harvests
and to the road that separates us
You walk
to the mechanical hand of thought
to the clotted sound
of decorative temptations
To the art of seeing
with wandering eyes
in the streets around you

Sensitive to the weight
of delicate manners
To the dawn of things
which i extend
To shatter words
into fragments of memory
as daylight clothe them
in my dreams

There will come others
in my deepest part
That awaits me
as if at home
Watching what I am
without end
looking at faces
Looking behind
those that wears them
Without turning
from my inside climate
when it meets the ground

I combine my poses
as a dream
like I am possessed
and displaced
in acts that alter forms
on your face
The closer I come to you

I does not matter to life
as it sings in its own words
Each day
I am its being, a servant
Of place trying
to breathe within my mind
I just fall into its arms
with tears that are not mine
clothed in mirrors
of those that wear them
Inside the movements of my heart