quarta-feira, 9 de abril de 2014

Under My Bed, There’s Me

It’s not all black and white
The ones who we think we are
Nor is it all grey scale
We’re more of a polychrome jar
With secrets so deeply kept
We’ve just to leave ‘em inside
Or under rug swept
For our pride we’ve got to hide

Part (of me) I didn’t know existed
Is menacing my old self to die
With shatters of my own personality
It’s my emotions I ought to pry
Unsettled and mixed feelings
I pray no one ever has
I ought to look for shelter
For me and all that jazz

Rodrigo Aleixo

sexta-feira, 4 de abril de 2014

Since I Stopped Crying, a Waltz

A despair grabbed me by the hand
in a way no true happiness would ever dare.
I wore all kinds of masks at that ball
to hide the stains of tears and fears that
my soul decided to impregnate my face with.
Had I soaked all night in ice
I would have suffered less, one might think,
as all the swelling around my eyes
Had made it look like I had been on wine
and aspirins (for far too long)
but no, sir.
I forced a smile on my visage,
the kind you get only when you are merry,
but mine almost looked as if
it were going
to crack;
and no mask could hide
any thing, any

We danced all night then,
that daring despair and I.

Rodrigo Aleixo

(Finding) Freedom

Freedom is (out there),

(We) almost (miss) the value (it has).

(How) is its (path, its own self? We ponder):

-(By) thinking (that you) have (it, already),

and you (are) certain to (find it, then).

Rodrigo Aleixo

[My take on the Fibonacci (Variation) challenge from Oulipost.

quinta-feira, 3 de abril de 2014

Smoke Signal

     don't you
    write to me
   a small message
  about no matter what
 about your dreams or
 how you got off your bed
 the way you brushed
  your teeth or
 how you tought
about me at
even about
your feelings
you may write
 or how you
  don't love
   me anymore
  but, oh
don't let
me hanging
 on this cliff
  of anguish and
   hope with
  sharks all
 to eat
 write me
  a small
    about the
  when you
left to
work or
  the beggar
  at you
  but, oh
for this
 piece of
   I treasure
    with my
  so hard
 you can
feel it

Rodrigo Aleixo

terça-feira, 1 de abril de 2014

Dry Beginnings

Then it thundered in me
The rain flooded everything inside
And a sudden heat dried it all out

Something must end in order to start afresh

And it was blinding
The dullness of my memories
For non-existing passages
Those of a beautiful present
That could have been

And it's still deafening
The silence accompanying my
Un-yelled yell, that isn't echoing
That you won't hear
And I'm yet to suffer

Now a desert ravages inside
And I
I must quietly wait in my oasis

For something that starts is always bound to end

Rodrigo Aleixo