Eternal Curse
We like to
emphasize splendor, significance, reputation and fame
rather than
modesty, contrition and true love.
We want to give
one thing a relief that catches the eye,
to be
particularly emphasized.
And if we have
relief maps, we don't know how to measure.
We wander and
saunter at night.
At night without
dreams.
We postpone
forgiveness and omissions.
We are
postponing our payment deadline,
we also want to
have a discount while we are paying,
and we would
like to do everything to make it cheaper.
And paradise is
not bought but deserved.
If we return
everything we took
and wish
forgiveness of sins, mercy and forgiveness,
to be forgiven
we will feel the same.
After the main
flowering, the flowers will bloom once again.
And we will
survive.
Like being born
again
the revival of
classical antiquity
or more
precisely freedom
and the creative
human spirit under the influence of classical literature,
of art and
philosophy in the Renaissance.
We will renew
our lives
and fix and
change it for the better.
We will refresh
and rejuvenate.
We will look at
hummingbirds that have bigger brain
in relation to
the body of other birds.
Heart too.
These birds can
fly
in all
directions, as they please!
They can live
for a long time by feeding on
flower nectar
and candied water.
We, like them,
are small but a lot is expected of us.
Rejection and
refusal,
as a musical
repetition of the same tone, the
opposite is an
echo.
Everything will
resonate.
Rejection and
refusal happen to us
like breaks in a
circus that clowns fill with their jokes.
We avoid the
eternal curse
because there is
always hope for a corrective exam
and a place
under the sun for us.
We can be
dignified,
be those who
produce again,
which recreate.
We can multiply
and experience
content to
revive consciousness,
get a good voice
again
for the person
and respect, reputation and name.
It is never too
late for natural things
to make us feel
better.
It's all in us
in our big
hearts in the body of a small hummingbird.
We have
everything you need!
Naturally!
Dreaming, Maybe Living?
Life is like a
cycle,
like a circle,
somewhere we die
and
somewhere we
grow
again,
every day a new
day is
different and
with us
renewed,
it is never the
same,
it is cyclical,
reincarnation
every day,
we knew in the
old world
live from
beginning,
to end,
and then all
over again
in a circle into
the vortex of the world,
after a dream
that is over,
into a new
dream,
with open eyes.
Better Man
We pray for
liberation from the fulfillment
of the promise
given under forced oath.
We are people
even where
the law may not
always be applied
in a case that
is of an exceptional nature.
Like a wild
animal who has escaped
and who is
coming back
and moving back
after all.
Like in card
games where we offer money
more than
others.
We fall back,
stumble and slip again,
and fall into
the old mistake again.
Everything is
relative.
It all relates
to something.
Everything is
relative altitude
as opposed to
absolute altitude.
The height of
the hill from some point
at its base to
the top.
Relative terms
that arise only from
the comparison
of one subject with another.
So do we, we
compare and weigh.
Our relationship
and our relations as
in a musical
space for an interval.
For us, only the
prominent and concise
scream from our
soul is significant and important.
Our soul that
says:
“Enough! We want
our lives back!”.
Purified from
sin, we will create a better Man
and we will no
longer need actors.
Oh, Love
Oh, love,
almighty love,
you who lift us
up
to the heavenly
heights
and the one who
breaks us on
hard ground,
scatter us.
Oh, love, strong
sincere love,
where we
surrender before you,
where all the
secrets we reveal,
where we become
innocent,
children.
Love, where
everything revolves around us,
both the world
and we in the world,
in a whirlwind,
in happiness indescribable,
in the sorrow we
haven't gotten over you
hold us and with
a scream of pleasure
you fill our
chests
and with a
scream of pain we die with you.
Oh, love...
There's no
indifference there,
no mediocrity,
no lies,
sincere love,
there's no
pretending,
there we get
crushed by emotions,
passion,
there we
completely give ourselves,
there we give
ourselves in eruptions
of all we have
ever felt.
Love, you who
move the world,
you who are the
originator of everything,
someone and sin,
you rule hearts
and we cannot
resist you...
Because we
always want you, love.
And you come
suddenly,
you come when we
don't expect you,
there, around
the corner,
you're lurking
and when you meet us,
when you
surprise us,
to you we are
left only,
and ready to
everything share
with the other
loved being,
we are ready for
sacrifices
and heroism,
for great words
that come
from our lips,
from our belly
and heart,
from the throat,
from the body,
in vibrating
sounds,
in a time that
cannot be
waited any more,
we're eager to
see what brings
a new day, and
this now,
this now in
love,
in this present
time
of, maybe,
losers...
Oh, love,
almighty love,
mercy we ask you
for,
may your light
last
as long
as possible
in this, our,
darkness.
Loneliness
Thin is the
connection between
all those who
were and were not, vague.
Relying on the
ideals of the past,
I spread the
story of imperfection.
I call my exes
for salvation,
and I feel the
coldness of the earthen wall.
Don't tell me
what to do, loneliness is biting my toenails.
Not about poise,
because I'm going to start
begging for
friendship.
The corpse
pushed me into oblivion of my path.
And there is no
more place for me in any horde. I am alone.
Don't tell me
anything, you can't help me because
it's a dark
world in which he struggles. My nights are sad.
All my former
and forgotten things and stories.
All my former
and forgotten friends, are gone.
Unknown faces
are walking the streets,
where I don't
recognize anyone from the past,
and I knew quite
a few of them.
At the familiar
name, a spark in my heart ignites,
and I remember
everything that was.
And I remain
alone with despair, if I could. But I didn't.
Forgotten for
years.
Buried in four
walls, in four white walls,
in the square,
at the intersection of the tearful streets
and the weeping
sky.
You come to the
infinity of dissatisfaction.
I hear the blunt
impact of the skull against the white wall.
It doesn't hurt.
I struggle with
the fog and in the murky water of time.
Will I die alone
or will I sprout?
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