BALEIAS VOADORAS

Uma utopia de paz se desdobra adiante,
Onde os zelotes gestaram deuses que a sustentam.
Os feitos de seus paladinos que o mal enfrentam
São louvados nos lares em oráculos radiantes.

No coração da Polis um monumento se levanta,
Atlas ergue o mundo, em cujo topo há outro Atlas.
A seus pés, pequenos espartanos lutam nas Termópilas.
"Si vis pacem, para bellum", diz-se que seu brado canta.

Mas não há conflito senão a guerra à heresia,
Alimentada através da usura tácita e velada,
Que de tão pululante generaliza a afasia.

Maravilhas povoam o céu e o firmamento dança,
Lá os semideuses festejam, mas na rua calada
Os demônios imortais sorvem o pecado na bonança...

INSONE

Por toda minha volta, as sombras se erguem
Como os tentáculos de C'thulu, me buscando,
E jazido em seu afago vou me afogando,
Fugindo para os devaneios que mentem.

O Princípio da Incerteza habita a mente
E a energia do vazio a vai dilacerando.
A expansão do universo vai desintegrando
Minhas conexões nervosas insipientes.

Demônios e súcubos eu vou criando,
Tentando me distrair desesperadamente
À medida que do sono vou esquecendo.

À revolução do dia surge a alvorada
De cuja fulgência solar avermelhada
Assopra e dispersa minha alma evaporada.

Ol' Jillian Jester

Ol' Jillian Jester is the wisest man in town.
He is also the eldest, with his permanent frown.
Looking out from up the hill, he is never seen
and neither to his house has anyone ever been.

But young Scott Weyland is really far from discouraged,
Feeling tired, he frenzied briefly as he rummaged
Within his heart, searching for strength for his last stride
Upon the rocky hill, setting the cramps aside.

Oh, Scotty, you crave for knowledge, you always did.
Believed anything and everything as a kid,
And then you learned of the secrets your father hid...

Although there's only one man left in the world nowadays
Who's a true believer, and he's way past his heyday
Isolated, feared... he is now but a single step away.

BETTER LUCK NEXT TIME

Pain, hurt, woe; I drown...
Voices, visions, words I shout
Cannot reach myself before I run along!
Cannot reach myself before I've gone alone!
I see my future fogged and still I stride.
Through a blurry windshield I look as I drive.
Life is like a battered and wheatered road,
There's rain and blizzard, cracks, turns and holes.
There's people who you follow and who you cross,
There's people who are hollow and who are lost,
Who drive the wrong way, switch to the wrong lane,
People of all creeds and of all sorts!
I'll find my own way, maybe not this very day,
Well, it definitely won't be easy...
But I'll try, and I'll stride, and I'll drive, and I'll ride;
Doesn't matter if I'm happy or satisfied,
The only thing is that I'll respect all who I'll meet,
And get to the next place I want to be
If that's possible. If not,
Better luck next time, kiddo.

NO REGRETS

another day in the grind I slave again to my own designs
still no sign of the fortress, the lastly reward promised
for all these uncountable perils, whence I perish without burrow
from all the falling shades of mine
another way I paved with sorrow, daydreaming about tomorrow
still no place has offered me the peace I project onto everything
to anesthetize the chaos, I lay fragile faithful veils
as if illusions helped me to harmonize

time and again I smack against a wall
and as if I could cause it to fall
with only stubbornness, I punch my fist to shreds
to deceive yourself you'll jump the chasm
with only wits is already impossible
with only legs let alone, I bet you'll break every bone

there's no use in inhabiting the trench I carved in hatred
disgusted with the outcomes, outcast from my own kingdom
a former vassal to my ideal I turned into a real leech
foraging for hopes I synthesize
it's a never-ending circle of ever increasing self-loathing
the mind sinks as the ego bloats, and I can never rock the boat
while my joys drift afloat, like a raft that's ever unreachable
the sharper my doubt the faster I dive

can't fight this enemy I anthropomorphize
it's but a shadow I allow to come alive
an puppet in my very hands, I fight another puppet-man
and that man is me again!
is to learn not to grieve, to turn away from the past?
and believe you'll write a new past over the last?
how many more times do I have to die...

can't fight an enemy that doesn't have a voice
how can I cast the emptiness into the void?
it's but a distraction, a tool I use for digressions
that allow me to waste my time
and I can't seem to communicate the pain that I can't suffocate
as long as it makes little sense, I keep switching for a different lens
with aims to explain my own demise, before I can talk it out and wide
how many more times do I have to lie...

maybe trying to throw the sadness overboard
by forgetting the hurt I caused with what I've done
is like accepting the past by choosing just not to hurt
does it mean not to regret anything?
Well, should my ego allow such a thing
without ever growing to drag me to the deeps?
just how many more times do I have to try...

FEEL AFRAID

do the ocean ever wonder whence has come the moonlight?
do the creatures that inhabit its darkest bowels realize
there is light somewhere?
do roaming fishes of the abyss ever stray to the heights
of warm pleasing waters where the greenery spreads wide
floating all too careless?

is there mistery where eyes cannot cast their sight?
is there reason to wonder upon the tricks of the mind?
is there reason to fear what cannot ever be touched?
is there safety in thinking what cannot ever be thought?

do great mammals of the artic that dwell deep in the ice
ever dream about a desert that would demand a lifetime
only to be circumvented?
if a black hole gives birth to a star within its arms
does the child's light ever try go through the chasm
that has the child star sorrounded?


feel afraid! feel afraid!
for reality is unknown to the gods and the apes
for the scrutiny of one atom might unveil the most damnable of fates!

*lyrics for melodic death metal

BYPASSED

another page in your dissertation
is gonna improve this gods' creation
from all the knowledge once unknown
there's a multiverse that hasn't grown
step aside to make room for the man
but where then should the woman stand?
scream all around your deepest pains
but does it help to let out in vain?
I see, the problem is deeper, and deeper it dives
the hills get steeper as you can't climb
indolence, the mother of death!
rejoice gracefully in her watchful breast!
sit around in a comfort zone, in the internet
in marriage, or in meaningless sex
but don't think hard about thinking too much
don't think about not thinking as such
be born, be grown, be fucked, be forgotten, be erased
I care this much about your fucking fate
the power to turn the tides of time
lies unguarded at the realms of the mind
a ground untread by rational beings
for rational is reserved to irrational things
and irrational things are the things that are
none is meaningful from dust to stars
and I talk this way to the entirety
very aware that I am entirely
bypassed...

ASSIMILATION

The vanity and impurity are purely shown
Relentlessly and motionlessly have gone
The inconstancy, the moaning winds and stones
The sands of the shore are now the driest ones

Charity has moved farther away
For so long companies have strayed
The vivid rays of light are now sepia
White snow withdrawn to grayscale winter

The wizardry, knowledge, chemistry
Have lost magic, tenderness, mystery
Bitterness, sorrow, rage, don’t exist
But nostalgia of early life still insists

The tide of the time is slowing and freezing
Just like the atmosphere never breezing
Suffocating, denigrating, melting
What was fighting now is yielding

Lena's Song / Reencounter

Para a minha namorada.

Lena's Song

Reencounter

fucking & punching

at the end of the walk,
what are we going to grasp?
for all we learn is going to be challenged
at the eyes of the youth, unproven.
we will be detached from reality,
like caricatures of people we once were,
or like heroes fighting blindly for misguided purposes.
we will be a consequence of history and genetics,
and the now young so to be old
will charge the then young, now to be existent,
as the guilty of our enlightening.
because it was not the being who created,
it was the being who has been created,
and who was driven to create.
therefore, creation is a product of itself.
and the one who said creation is indeed relevant
will be revealed ignorant, a product of their time.
a blind hero or heroine throwing punches into the nothing
for the sake of all humanity and living things,
is going to be remembered for all the numbness
of his or her geniality.