Antonio Madrugada
Bio
Writing rite since I am 13. Empower me to grow and I will publish my first novel of fantasy soon.
I am Portuguese. I am 33.
I published my first book in 2019.
Stories (15/0)
One Writer
One Writer A writer sits in front of an antique typewriter, ready to pour his thoughts onto paper: "Writing was my lifeline, the very thing that saved me from the depths of despair. Yet, I didn't write about trivial matters or indulge in the ridiculousness of love letters penned for unrequited affections. Words became my refuge, a sanctuary from the pain and anguish that plagued my existence. As a shy teenager with seemingly no prospects in life, I became a dreamer. A dreamer who would weep and beseech the moon to deliver the essence of my words, so I could tend to them with greater care. These words I wrote became my only flame, providing warmth in the face of the world's coldness. They acted as a protective shield against the venomous words of the women on the bus, who sought to pry into my life and label me as insignificant. Their hurtful remarks echoed sentiments that had only been expressed by one person before. And so, I transformed these women into the greatest villains within my poems and short stories, finding joy in their demise and giving my life a satisfying conclusion. In reality, I severed ties with my predetermined destiny, leaving those women on the bus to spew venom amongst themselves while I forged my own path. All of this and more, being a dreamer and a writer, was akin to granting wings to a condor, allowing it to soar far above the vultures. I discovered that I held control over my own destiny if I fought tirelessly, never relinquishing my beliefs. Compiling all my words and crafting a book in 2019 also played a crucial role in my salvation. The dream I aspired to was grander than ever, and the pursuit of that dream continues to this day. The struggle is ongoing, a constant reminder of my unwavering commitment to what I have written and the incomplete work that lies before me. I realized that if I am willing to fight until the end, without surrendering my beliefs, I hold the power to shape my own destiny. Piecing together the words and birthing a book in 2019 was a salvation in itself. The dream, however, reaches far beyond that milestone. The fight for my dream is far from over, and I embrace the perpetual struggle as a testament of my love for what I have written and the work that remains unfinished. If you have experienced the same, then you know that words hold the power to heal. They possess the cure within their very essence. So, cry, smile, and fight. Be the architect of your own world, one that brings harmony to our own. Write the words that can save you from a fate you do not desire. Sketch the destination you wish to reach. Have you felt the same? If so, then embrace the power of words as your remedy. The cure lies within the act of writing." As the typewriter emits its final sound, the writer removes the sheet, crumples it, and tosses it into the trash can. Frustration seeps in. "This is what the world does to all writers," the writer laments. "Come to me now with your hollow flattery, and I will discard it just as I did this crumpled page. How cruel you are." The writer closes the typewriter, placing it within a box of memories, and steps out onto the balcony to savor the last sips of his mint tea, seeking solace in the tranquility of the moment.
By Antonio Madrugada3 months ago in Fiction
Path to Oblivion
Intro by Luna Park “Diary Entrance 100, We all knew that one day humans, we, would find a path but not for the best, rather to oblivion. We would fight each other until the last and there is no glory in it. And the best part of all, is that we are so blind by all the things we became, in it including all the words in all the languages of men to describe all the bad behaviours and things that humanity could ever do, all came true. We are not in the movies anymore. This is the truth. All the craziness of nuclear weapons happened. So, here is presented the path to oblivion. Only a few survived. And no, we did not go to Mars nor another planet. We got got stuck here on Earth. Apocalypse is not a theme anymore, but pain still is. I suffer every day by the effects of radiation. Al science and their creators of what some call the dark magic. Stupid, I know. I don’t believe in it. We all lost the belief in Christmas or any Mambo Jambo of the past. Capitalism died just there when it was it’s time, as the things named with ism.
By Antonio Madrugada3 months ago in Writers
Hardships of a writer
Since I am a writer officially in 2019 all that has been happening is just hardships and moments of pure hardom where in time all seems lost and so wrong. "Be consistent and work hard. They say. But I have been working hard and doing all that with no results at all. I am publishing around in KDP and it helped me in nothing at all, no matter if you change the words, improve the quality of the manuscript and the cover. It's so hard nowadays to be a simple writer in this world and honestly no one care less if fall down in the depths of the algorithms that Amazon did just bring those works that only a certain number of people wants to read, besides millions of books are published every day and it falls down the big hole, no matter how hard the work was. That's the dark side of KDP and other self publishing platforms. Because of this many traditional publishers either they have to close and file bankruptcy or increase the prices of the publishing to survive other winter. Some, still won't. Tons of people self publish now that brings that paradox that we all have been feeling since that Amazon launched first CrativeSpace and then, KDP. Other platforms open also to bring competition to Amazon. And thing escalated pretty fast after that. Now, many writers like me the because of that. And many are unable to escape the stagnation of publishing, when there is too much to offer and too few people who have the the power to buy. It's a sad moment and this will bring a new crash but for all book industry. Since I am a writer officially in 2019 all that has been happening is just hardships and moments o...I
By Antonio Madrugada7 months ago in Interview
Dull
Act I Before the curtain opens, a voice as soft as the wind says. Dull (Curtain opens) Sounds of heavy footsteps and wind whipping, taking the breath away from the man who enters the scene. Very slowly, a man, a beggar, staggering, enters an archway in an empty, dark street. In the distance, only a streetlamp illuminates. Night had fallen, and darkness reigns. On stage, a dim light shines on the actor, giving the impression that he has the aura of a poet that gradually disappears. The beggar is in tatters and finds it difficult to warm up because of the cold and icy wind, penetrating not only his body but also the wounds caused by poor hygiene. Jonah opens his mouth to speak but stops for two minutes. He puts his index finger to his lips, as if he were a Maestro asking for the sound to stop. - "Shhhh." (Jonah asks the wind for silence with his index finger to his lips) A cold silence. (A fan pretends that the spectators also feel the freezing air. Jonah remembered what he was going to say.) JONAH "It was in my poems and secret stories that I put my soul. And in my notebook, she cried, abandoned tales that could move a mountain but did not move the stands or those who have the choice of someone trapped in ignorance but take pleasure in killing hope. People do not have it. People prefer to forget. People ignore, while the poets plead. Poets and destiny designers fall into oblivion and die forgotten. (Jonah cries hopelessly. But still in tears, he continues.) People love to forget. People love to disdain. People love to lose. And the less you understand, the better, the more egos and bad-mouthing. (He had knelt with his face to the ground, a posture of prayer.) A light appears. Jonah understands who has appeared in front of him and kneels again, but with more brutality. A handsome man with a neatly trimmed white beard in a white robe and blue cloak. All his hair was long, curly, and wavy. A god Jonah had created in his poems and tales. Yana is the creator of all dreams and his person as a poet and short story writer. YANA: The knees are not the honor, but the ruin of the old. You would be, once again, the new god, for you are a god and your own god of the kingdoms in that broken notebook. Thou art thyself the emperor, but do not be the dictator like the men of your Earth who call heretics and sinners those who choose not to believe in the work of an ancient civilization, and you told me that the first son was killed. You go beyond pain like a god, you are much more than these Pharisees. And you, like a god in your dream, you die if believers stop having faith. Are you not offended? (Says Yana in a calm tone, like a parent trying to calm their child.) Jonah reflects. JONAH: Men already have a god called God, and they have no tolerance for atheists, and I am not one because I believe in will and truth. And truth is like God, that everyone wants to believe, but when reality and truth shine much brighter than a rising sun, many lose faith. Why look at the ground? It is much easier and does not touch fear, its pure essence and notion, that the difficult is an obstacle. (On stage, an incredibly beautiful lady, Uma – the poet's muse - enters. She takes two steps towards the poet and looks proudly at the poet.) UMA: Precious, a tear is clear and pure, salt, but all the words we wrote together are beyond Homer's words. Let us be fair, fairer than justice itself. I never, ever regretted being a muse to a poet, but this poet was the only one who loved me from my first wish to my last. I heard that Homer was a cheapskate who never duly paid the price to his muse, nor did the dividends from every song created in his pompous name. Precious is this man and poet, blessed be your precious name. And yes, I love him too, but it is forbidden for me to love him because Homer wrote to the creator of the muses, Zeus, that all muses should love a single poet, and he obeyed. But Homer turned his back on his own dreams to draft a story that appealed to Greeks but not Trojans. (Uma walks with a smile on her lips, raises her arms, and touches the poet's face.) The poet cries. He collapses and melts into the dirt on the sidewalk. These tears are neither of sadness nor of joy, but they are tears he created to reveal a new feeling he feels and to give the world a new feeling, beyond longing, the anguish of losing a mother, the loneliness of being alone, and the pure platonic love for a muse. He has calluses, not on his hands, but on his soul). The new feeling is called Sausoladorplato (Longing, loneliness, and platonic love) is the new feeling. Jonah, stands up and faces the audience. JONAH: A diligent worker, and still underpaid. Not only do you have calluses on your hands, but also calluses on the soul. Weary are the body and the heart. Without the calm soul, all calluses hurt inside and out. I created a new feeling, to reveal myself only. But when the callous pain in my soul ceases, it means my life has ceased, and with this new feeling, I wanted to teach society that all feelings are ours, for we are human and mortal, and whoever disagrees with all these words said means that you are monsters and surreal. Sausoladorplato I am body and soul. And to give the world a new feeling, much more than nostalgia, the anguish of losing a mother, the loneliness of being alone, and the pure platonic love for a muse. I have calluses, not on my hands, but on my soul. For all this and much more, I am Sausoladorplato. Uma, I love you too, oh muse of muses, above queen or empress, goddess of all muses, the first born from the tears of despair of the first poet, Enheduanna. Uma still cries for him in her dream. Uma releases a tear. Immediately the sound of water is heard.nShe had created a new river. That river was so clear but stormy. Pain and weeping were what fed the river's bed. The Argent Dolor River (Silver Pain). ACT II But the conductor is not present. Quick change of scenery. The sound of the wind fades away. An empty stage, just a bed in a dark setting. Only a dim spotlight illuminates the bed. Jonah comes out of nowhere, out of the dark. On the bed is a body. He gropes himself and cries out in confusion. He curses himself without the audience understanding what he says. JONAH: NOOOOOOOOO. DEAD POET. THE WORK IS NO MORE. He lies down and finally speaks. JONAH: Deafness is a stage that tells us we are ready for the real emptiness, scary out of nowhere, absolutely overwhelming being nobody that before was everything or a whole. The cure for deafness is to abstract yourself from poisons and get rid of them, like the water that washes, purifies you, regain your senses, your keys for your freedom of being, free to listen to your nature of being. Cleanse yourself and purify yourself of hidden poison that society injects into your veins, from greed, envy, and selfishness, this last one, the mother of all evils. (Yana appears and puts her hand on his shoulder and speaks.) YANA: An end to me, the hours in the background, at the ends of the world. I shout yes to silence so many that do not fit in my hands. Empty hands at the end, in the fight, like rosemary fields on the hills of bitterness, where life lost its meaning, where it lost its boots, unloved and forgotten in the hours, neither alive nor dead. Did you remember these words, dear Jonah? Yana asks Jonah as he looks at the face of the now deceased. YANA: Beautiful eyes, now lifeless. Oh, lost life, like the wretches and how many unloved. Here lies the perfect poet, the fly that many wanted to kill us. It hurts to see, it is hard to walk, it is hard to deliver a good soul to the vultures that owed without delay. Jonah looks down at himself. With sadness, he reflects. JONAH: The pain of loneliness, for the nefarious contempt to those who loved her darkness, giving birth to random epics. Reported across the seas, the glory of the nation, but fate gave them everything less in history, a little consideration. These are the wise, representatives of Luso, platonic lovers, ship designers, dreamed of never sailed seas. They defied death to make scorpion ink, distilling their poison, but unloved. Society killed them, like fleas, sucking and slowly poisoning. In the end, society proclaims rhymes like theirs, and they are wise, the wise are unfounded. Yana reflects on the same and agrees. YANA: Every drop of cruelty that forms in the dew from the dawn of reality, at rest, before work. Of lives that dreamed of peace, all ideologies died, for only one and only one capable, dictated the fate of many who clashed in the reality of sins they did not commit. Corrupt laws in a unique theology, in a corrupt theology above all others, in a single line of thought. When the being dares to be born in the dawn, the day will be red and sad without love, and the flesh rots slowly in the heat and the sound of the orchestras of weapons. Soldiers occupy every bed, these beds where children could sleep and dream of a better world and smile. Women, mothers, and creators of science, protectors of happiness and childhood, they could be free to be more and better than the men who corrupt everything and who forget what love is. Stoned, raped, sold, the best women suffer. Child soldiers, tiny lost souls who could have owned everything, suffer. Uma appears too, as if to say goodbye. UMA: A poet is not in the body, but will be forever in the soul. A good poet lies dead, and it is your fault. Uma points to the audience and then to Yana. Yana feels offended. Uma continues and addresses the audience again. UMA: I want to be your impossible, loving you even if this destiny, ironically incredible, may he finally deign to let it stay with you. It may be a bad, cruel fate, and give me all the impossible, may he find, incredible, and make me think of the unlikely. But I will fight for you, poet, you are the one who, anyway, come what may, come what may, hey to love you in the clandestine, you are last. Uma weeps helplessly. UMA: My beloved, yesterday I was going to tell you that we would wake up at dawn to see the sun rise, and may there be courage, my love. Time does not stop, there are no hours for pain, and nothing separates us. Today could be better, with so much to live for. How will we know by heart every detail without reading? Have courage, my prince. If tomorrow is black, may the rhythm of what does not matter not penetrate the intimate. Courage, be courageous. Chest wants and screams freedom. Dreams want color and courage. They want freedom without time, without the dictatorship of the clock. My love, tomorrow will be the day. If today was a lost night, courage, my sun that radiates. Dawn will be dawn. Uma cries again. Yana touches Uma's shoulder and speaks. YANA: I feel your pain, because your pain is my pain. I know it by heart, I know the color, and I do not love you. But I have a lot of love for the creator of our world, your world, and I know he will open his eyes again in a better world, without any pain. Yana touches the body's pale hand on the bed. Jonah (the soul) feels emotional and tries in vain to touch the hands of the one he loves. JONAH: I believe, and for believing, I am free. Oh, body, in pain and heavy, give me the chance I never had. Let me touch your hands from the muse who believed in me, let all the no's become a yes. Over a slow PIP PIP, it starts to have more rhythm. The poet's heart beats again. The first thing he does is touch his muse's hand. The End.
By Antonio Madrugada7 months ago in Poets
Dreamy Poetry
Anger One day in anger I lost you The ego that now hurts so much It was me, not you who ran away And the cowardice that hurts so much There is still my yes on that bench That yes I forgive you That we could fight And you stayed by my side until today. That you wouldn’t have suffered so much And your eyes in mine I knew there was a lot more fire. Years later your eyes They still glow in the dark of my mind. It would be something we could work on Forgiveness for a simple mistake I lost you in regret and had to face it The uncertainty of youth And the cold mornings were colder And in life as uncertain as our futures. The past hurts But I’m glad you’re around A lantern in the present To light the way of the future But my affection for you is never absent. My mind My mind is a dark place Distant with dreams to light Some doors of my destiny In any clandestine Surrounded, sometimes by ghosts That the music there helps to amaze. Understanding me is like walking through a maze No exit in sight. I feel that doubt is the eternal state From my epic mess. On the tangent of a lost scream Like a gun that fires A bullet that hurts someone, random And there is a wound that never heals. The kiss How about a kiss A sweet and bitter kiss One of those that lingers in the memory In the moments when you make glory And in those I tell our story. The love that makes us think That sometimes we’ll walk After all, I like to love In the sense that commands life And what makes us lovers, Not by destiny, but by right to such experience Which is seldom called clemency. In the end I love you In the end I kiss you At the end of our life I will regret losing you I feel good in hope To have you in my heart I feel good in hope Of loving you and having your forgiveness I feel good in hope Of some day of having given you a kiss The love that makes us think That sometimes life is strange That sometimes makes us its trick And it makes us hurt so many times And to think that I’m going to have to give up Of that hope of having you in my chest But I still love you so much. I will continue my path by your side, Not to sing this sad fate What is to think that I will never have you in me And wake up from the love that puts me with a hangover. I wander in gardens I wander in the truth of your lips That they bring me after a whole day without you. It’s something I can’t explain Sometimes I think that life, It’s weird so many times. My cry after your goodbye I will try to be as honest as possible. When all that’s left in life is hopeless And I feel that I am much more than I thought, So when the starlight went out And everything else went dark What happened? My world, I discovered too late, died. I feel unfinished Like an incomplete rhyme Of this sad fate Without getting that longing Show in me, in my chest, the truth Of the person I am after all Or what I do, react, or give myself. I feel completely unfinished Because I express myself with longing In an imperfect way, this fado. What happened to the world to die like this? What led to its tragic end? The stars went out because you left, And you went without a single word, justification And you, after all, my world, it was you. Yes you! You were my world, the fire of passion, My life, my soul, my heart, My spirit in everything. Please come back and complete me Resurrect me and love me This is my plea, The cry after your goodbye. Adore in every word One morning I wake up And I really remember From last night with you Gazing at the stars But the real star It’s just you. Let me look at you Let me look at your body In the moonlight I ask you to kiss me That you touch me and make me happy This is the truth that is said. You are beautiful in every word In all senses In all ways Everywhere Even on my street The truth that is naked and raw I will love the day that I have In my arms again. In summary I adore you With all the words With all the senses In all ways Everywhere Even on my street. I think I think how life can be So strange and reminds me I want you from here From this mountain to see you Sitting on this hill Sitting I want to love I want to love you one more day This is how it is, my day to day Even when I’m intensely sad. I think about life, sometimes without you And without your sweet love To sweeten my mouth So a never sad face Does not succumb to pain. The Beginning of Tomorrow Today I wanted to love you And I woke up with the desire to kiss Kiss someone like you today Kiss the star of my heart Kiss only, my passion. I thought about what I dreamed And I loved forever During the dawn My forest fairy Let me sleep on your lap So that I can think about you tomorrow. Today I want to kiss you Feel you I felt the lips that Nature gave you. Even if it’s dark I only see the sky with you This is mine and yours And nobody else’s. I just love it I just feel I just have something That I don’t have Love like that, with an open heart Today It will just be the continuation From tomorrow and tomorrow It is the continuation of your destiny. Learn to enjoy every moment If we know how to take advantage In all contexts of life, We are happy, more willing to love, Everything is respected, life is colorful. We face our destiny Like that road Close to our home like a teaching, The one full of holes, bored. But the road passes At our tired feet And we won another stage, We do not give up in the face of these obstacles. Every curve and hole, It might even be an opportunity, To live better in our space, With respect and truth. Sweetness It’s your simple sweetness That tempers my life, I hope and wish that you stay. I love you because I chose to love you, O life. Calm me with your peace, Tomorrow I am someone capable, To live loved and fulfilled, Without fate sadness. I live with you without melancholy, Just pure happiness and harmony, With your simple sweetness, That sweetens my life, O life. I love that you kiss me I love you fairy, queen of me, oh life. You are perfect in our mornings When I wake up, you sketch Your special smile, The one you only keep for me. May they never end, The mornings, ours, I get silly and you make fun... The life... Leaves Old leaves fall On the ground that receives them With love and surround them While in this erotic game, Like naked women The trees are bare, In an autumn that brings change, In this game of hot and cold An annual ritual of hope To ask the gods for better days. Bare, the trees, dance in the wind, The wind brings them fresh water from the rain And in the spring a new sprout will be born. Slowly the airy muse dances Seduces the wind and the rain falls in a moment Fresh, harmonious and perfect, will be born after A new sprout that will be flower and then fruit, Will bring the birds and the bees to take I get the seeds for the new trees. Now the birds gather To prepare, afterwards, on his spring journey. In their wings they hide, Dream by the waters of April. Now they sleep warm in the branches of old trees, Those who once sang And danced in the wind, to bring them The cool autumn water. Rebel I described the pain That it cost me to heal In a revealing poem Still a child still playing. Dreams that hurt Like evil slaps That just brought The hard lesson for every day. Rebellious pimples Black glasses like magnifying glass To reveal how lowly My adolescence occupies In the void not yet filled How many unhealed wounds If in part I was still held back In bad memories That time will never erase. Look at me When you look at me Remember who I am. I don’t pretend and I won’t give you roses. Be content with the jasmine I give Well, I went to get him to that mountain That mountain you said you liked In the pamphlets of our travels. And there I was mounted on the horse of my imagination. And I told rosemary that I cared for you with my heart. I will not promise wealth Not even that house you dream of Or a car, or any other material good. Because the immaterial, our love It’s more important in our life together. I will only give you delicacy, seasoning Love, affection and some bad mood Of an imperfect moment. But if there was perfection it was a sign That our love would be counterfeit. I won’t promise you perfection But you will always have my heart, I promised rosemary that I would take care of you. And that I also promised you. When you look at me Remember that I never promise I’m going to be the sword prince Who saves you riding a white horse. But yes, a simple poet in love What takes you to that mountain Mounted on the horse of my imagination. Intent counts. When your gaze turns For me, if you have the courage Don’t stay there and watch the landscape come and go, Love me madly, like I love you madly And protects me hopelessly from what may come. Just as I protect you hopelessly. Fight The fight does not declare Victory alone The fight is a fight Who declares peace in the light And war in the dark Struggle is the word that best translates When there’s room in the heart For there to be peace When there is a leader who is able To keep hope, Prosperity and bonanza. Dictators who kill, It has neither courage nor heart. Leaders who fight for their people And they fight until the end Even when there is so little. They are heroes and their courage has no end. Courage is your shield and secret weapon And know will be written and sung In full history books and music Of his people who also sing to their loved ones. They, the good leaders were never soldiers, But simple and honest men. The dictator has his eyes on everything Less in your own conviction And conviction is what will lead you to ruin Because even those who follow lose their conviction And he becomes aware that he is in a ravine. Don’t come and say that a dictator is crazy Because being crazy means Who doesn’t know what he’s doing. The dictator knows he won in blood And the marks of your crime are written In every corner of the truth But it’s your war machine With the advertising tool That he serves to wash minds Of those who put him in power And he doesn’t know or knows the swing From the wheel of power and pure space From a thin veil between life and death. He knows that he destroys all that is good. A woman walks On the naked street of love She puts her hand in mine And look at me in your pain. Close your face with your hands To cry the overwhelming emptiness. As a tear runs down your eyes An overwhelming pain. Mother who screams inside Weeps the bitterness of war A spoiled child Part to face the war That he would never ever choose. My hand tries to soothe the pain From the mother, but that just makes it worse. My hand brings the memories of love And he does it because my hand was the phantom touch From your child’s hand The mother cries more and closes her hand more But tears can never bring solace Crying is just a human reaction to grief And she knows she won’t bring him back She collapses in grief and emptiness. A good mother, a good son And a dictator who wants only blood. A womb always full of love. An empty womb and so much pain. Banal I know it’s banal of you Despise the writer and poet. But what if it was a crime Abandon a poet to his human poverty If the poet never abandoned you, Alone in your profane ignorance. I know you find it banal to watch To things and to keep silent In the corner because they were educated to watch When dad asks them to be polite When he made the sign of silence. I know it’s easier to cross your arms To avoid retaliation and embarrassment. I know it’s easier to have a wedge, Without moving a nail, Underneath a door that opens to you An opportunity for an easy job, And have someone save your skin But I know that in the end the fight was not yours. It’s not even your strength Abandon even if it makes you unhappy. Be yourself I admit to being skilled at something, But I will never be fragile. I’m nice, But if they take me Like someone who gives in easily, Not only are they fake, Especially with yourselves, As they are masters of deceit. Despite not being talented at all, I feel lucky I’m not like that As fragile as people They don’t look like who I am. After all, only I really know myself, Only I know what I feel, The people who think Who know me well, Will never know who I truly am. It’s false for someone to tell me Who knows me well, Because I, in all my “I”, I am unpredictable at all times. It’s strange, and most incredible, Almost the height of hypocrisy, Try to know more about me, What I know of myself, And yet, certain people, Not knowing anything about themselves. Where many can see my weakness, I see my own strength, I often exaggerate In my actions Just to see how they react And know who I can count on, Many may have already failed The little tests, But also many passed And I know who I can count on. Don’t take this message As a direct or affront, That would be your long shot, Don’t even see me as someone bitter, Just like a simple Alert message, Only those who want to are affected. Just be honest with yourselves. Don’t take me as someone fragile and sensitive If you don’t really know me Because in the end, They will only be masters of their own deceit. Sad indeed. Dreams I decided to dream my life But it’s not in my choice Cross your arms to the chosen fight Because my work is not that of a God But I encompass with me all mine, When touching, giving color to colors Of your tired hopes Of your revolted choices To see so many arms crossed on the side of the road The one that of bad reputation traveled By those who chose to do nothing. I work with them all day, Were brought up in the cradle of ignorance The government did not let them have importance, Never let them have that perk. The doer of nothing, even protests As if it were the worst of sacrilege Take with the buffet of wisdom, They were jealous of the boys who went to college. I decided to give light to the eyes of those who don’t want to see anything. My work will never be that of a God But I chose to fight for the science and wisdom of living To win without ever shying away from hatred Of those who chose to look at anyone from the side, That will be their punishment for accepting their fate. Troglodyte minds victims of ignorance Society is a victim of itself Because motto was that the sum of its anxious Was annihilated and the remainder was zero Because there was no division between school and work. Don’t mutilate yourself Don’t mutilate yourself By the words of others Or their fake smiles For you must strengthen in yourself The verb to fight for who will also fight for you. Discover the unknown if you don’t know Yourself, if that’s your mission Avoid repeating to yourself that failure can But it’s not, be the solution to something above Of your abilities, which is not true. March March, dress and don’t camouflage Your being of true colors That nefarious hypocrisy tried to stifle For thou were born pure into the world, and thou shalt die With nothing left to give. Be the rebel that no one else Had the courage to be Because the voice that keeps you will be in you Agreed to never let you forget How disgusting is ignorance Taking away from you your role and importance, I want you to always be a nobody When your dream is to be that someone. The taste of indifference I have in my mouth The taste of your indifference It was already so little The life of my hope That someone had a clue That your contempt It doesn’t kill just one heart But also the dream That a poet can change the world. Clean your hand Keep every coin Who could buy the compassion book. As if just give a salvo It was the bane of a good actor. When he gave all his splendor. But it actually went beyond the pain For the audience to be hypocrites and just smile. So are the people with the artists Let them die alone in the cold streets. Short memory of Fools Empty pockets And always with bullshit talk. A heart stopped beating Because society wanted Turn the darkest face at dusk And there won’t be another dawn For the eternal learner. Breath I tried to take comfort in the little things That can never give encouragement For thinking I could tame comfort To be happy with so little and with the wind That brings hope for a new beginning. The words that fail me, Are the same ones who abandoned me Lucky to be small and nobody To have a life to whom and nothing beyond. Until when How long will this adventure last? When Portugal has had enough, Enough that threaten free citizens to advance If one enough would heal the wounds Of a democracy spent in the mists From memory, which many people fail. After so many issues and schemes To find out who is the better thief and leader. Portugal was Empire At the cost of human lives But the expensive effort It gave, in part, better lives. Today, what we learned, At the expense of mistakes and flesh, Hanging by a thread for an ideal that doesn’t exist But which was invented to serve, Even if they never admit it, The indignant flies that sound, Of democracy is too high And they want to kill the constitution and everything good, That has been conquered throughout pure history And the light blinds them to the moon. The screams of enough Were drowned out by the incoming gunfire And one is enough that tries at all costs, And above all cost of living. Cover up the crime That democracy hangs by a thread in the corner. Abstention is the only card of the political elite. A card with no value, fear remains, bluff. But there is hope in those who are anything but afraid To speak shamelessly to a divided nation And if hope arrives tomorrow, I learn to pray.
By Antonio Madrugada7 months ago in Poets
Myths and epic poems
Perfect muse By the voice of the muse that inspired me To write poems about the world That she made me invent, because she so ordered It’s up to me, imperfect poet, to write About your body and your lips Who gently kiss my face. Knowing that in the moonlight, Your silhouette shines in splendor Not looking brings me pain And loving her brings me her flavor. Sea mermaid, extended Just for me, green eyes A light that illuminates, Golden and brown scented hair A pure breeze in my ocean In which I get lost but I’m happy. I’m an apprentice I learn the words with you In your voice of pure harmony For the rest, from the world I disconnect I look at your shiny body in fantasy For me it is pure joy. Perfect chest Hill of a beautiful city Maybe Maria Lisboa your name You embrace the sea with your arms. Thin and flat belly The beginning of your hips A guitar that cries in the fate. Legs and feet, I see the columns Main ones you support The weight of being the Muse of Portugal, And bathe in the waters of the Tagus Your true home. Beggar I was never a beggar I didn’t even ask for alms In point of view in detail From the disturber of kills and skins, In a lame and deaf way, Society lacks the crutch of culture, The real beggar who clears his head To the webs of manipulation I never asked for alms I just stole lyrics from the library To put them in order. Though crude, they had order. And wanted the muse, that order As messed up as I am I mess up myself And I order and return to disorder. And society won’t even arrive To the glorious fullness of disorder Of having a thousand thoughts To order. Society has an order Just be sorted With small wages Disorganized in small numbers And such big problems. My book saved me today From the bombardment of insults My culture saved me The life that is rightfully mine My book saved my freedom My book calmed down and embraced My cry that wanted to scream The lyrics scream my cry, now. The words in this book are my voice now. I am them and they are my being, No matter what happens, hurt what it hurts. My book got me where I am today My book protected me From the idiocy of the woman in front Who talks through his elbows That weaves skeins And sews the jacket to the third parties. My book saved my culture, My language and memory Of the lyrics that play with me Like simple, mischievous children. I remember my childhood For the lyrics of my book They saved my memory and happiness. I had a heart in a dark room I feel that emptiness of your absence The loneliness it causes. The tears And the mute words The silence of the walls I want you to understand. Back tomorrow I have space in me In my heart To give and sell until the end. Listen slowly to my plea Like the slow cry on blank nights In a room stripped of you. past love I liked you I who lived in you And I smile to silly details of the pranks that we had I thought... It was a love without barriers. now i'm a sailor From a stranded boat. And I still breathe The waves of your sea I let myself sink. Your breeze still plays my crazy heart And in pure madness I'm the lost sailor In the middle of the vast ocean Of your absence. come back and save me mermaid and muse come back and save me Take me out of this bitterness. Music In trio, duo or solo, We are harmony We are children in arms, That the cosmos packs, With all your patience, From a father who calms us down. It's logic and science, We are music, which awakens, Who sleeps in the absence of sound. find peace that is born inside The joy it brings If we believe in touch perfect of words that fill our soul of tune of melodies That fill us with calm. give me your hand give me your hand Come with me give me your hand I want to walk with you In this life, I give you my heart I'm in love for life I was the one who always loved you sadness does not live here. Princess give me your hand walk with me take good care of my heart you are my shelter. Silence I touch the silence of you In the empty objects of you In an empty house of you In a burning perfume echoes On the dead walls of my being. It was when I lost you I realized that the promises of love vows They left a pain and I empty of you. Insisted, felt, fought, lost. In the noisy flesh The wounds are from war A battle in silence A fight in the deep darkness of your absence. Pretend Pretend we're joking with the shadow of our hands and draw the letters with chalk as mischievous as your look. Maybe tomorrow I want to kiss Your pink lips, maybe. Maybe I'll ask for a date tomorrow or you steal my apple that I wanted to share forever with you smiling, I remember. Pretending to count the years together that our holding hands never fall apart on the street we walked as we grew up And that we speak shy feelings from the heart. Stage I'm different on stage Grief hurts less The voice has a warm tone even in the moments Dead from the range of notes The joy of living and healing What music brings in the laps And in the dizzy turns of the dance A song appears in a child's dreams. I'm different on stage I create magic without wanting I create passion in burning fire In the laps of the dance I lose myself When looking at your incessant smile I'm the child who plays barefoot In the sands of passing time Bring me the dream Bring me the song That you whistle and I sing Bring to me love in the heart. To be different on this stage. voices shrill voices, Headaches, You cry and scream through your teeth. The unreal is wept, collapses The world, the real weeps. It hurts, even if I ask the universe, That silences some of the voices, That with atrocious speeds They slowly kill the real concrete Of my sad being without color. Some of the voices that provoke Pains, and not only me, crush, Who wants to be free from frivolous society That first sows panic, then the storm. In this colorless world Without the sun, the heat, The grey and frowning ones remain. Sunset cuttlefish and birds Gone out of beauty, Cold and frivolous humanity so prizes, To petty ego and false innocence. Behold of Man, his main delinquency. unknown poet Make me an unknown poet In the price of your arrogant books Because I know, certain conversations have bothered you And I know you want to hate ignorant poets. I would be ignorant if I fell into the industry And wait for the temporary and the payment in a hurry. Exchange help for no help, my anguish. A smile and there's the expense done in a hurry. And I had already heard the whole litany. A poet knows how to pretend. And who takes advantage of the work Knows how to forge and is always on the run And in the end, they know how to sell, the snake wins. Yes, that's you there, the direct that gives you Is very... when the poet knows how to pretend better People say that a poet wants to be myth and dead That they were shamelessly unloved poor. And you selling empty pages Whose hypocrisy is there before unread pages? Shadow Shadow on my shoulder When I find out that I am the rubble What do I choose to swallow to cover up past hurts In stagnant waters. what's left And this is the work from a contractor Who prefers never to face And destroy me completely. My soul foundations Barely hold the pillars of my body The windows are broken and without calm And you can hardly see the outside, not at all. The walls of the mind wobble And there are loopholes for the world The roof of dreams, the rafters complain The floor of my calm has a deep hole That breaks every function in half And in all this beats feelings and a heart. the boxes of life In boxes we were born, We are the center of the universe. We live in boxes We learn what is most perverse. We breathe the essence of human nature And in that we think we create beauty In front of the boxes that we are creating Without understanding our place in the world. We know the progress In the boxes we created. We learn that we are no longer the centre of the universe We are just a vehicle, A box to keep Something that sustains a soul. The time, if we are to calculate comes from a box That counts the heartbeats That this time stops, we also stop And the cycle of life fits in the palm of one hand. In boxes we die In boxes we rot In boxes again we are born. In boxes we complete the cycle of life Where there is only one way but never one coming. Because time was created to never return Just to take us and deliver To the living wheel of our mortality And we always fall into the same reality.
By Antonio Madrugada7 months ago in Poets
Myths and Epic poems
Chapter one Cobweb I only have a thread of hope left A spider’s web that looks fragile It’s a shot in the dark that lost shape While I have a fever dream Even if you don’t have a fever. Released at the top of my lungs, a prayer That propagates in an echo and is lost. As I preached to my dream The trading floor, in which my fear It’s not like waking up and seeing another day But to wake up and see another day In which hypocrisy reigns in each one. Nobody goes anywhere While your freedom Is not rescued from the fast, The sheer hunger for knowledge and reality. There is truth And when those who sleep wake up Take the pure nectar and believe That knowledge is the way To discover your next home Like birds leaving the nest, They learn to fly on the horizon of the new dawn. End To me The hours in the background At the ends of the world I shout yes To silence so many That don’t fit in my hands. Empty hands at the end In the fight Like the rosemary fields On the hills of bitterness Where life lost its meaning Where the devil lost his boots Unloved and Forgotten In the hours, neither alive nor dead. Harbingers of Destruction (All Politicians – No Exception) Harbingers of doom They gave a sign of their graces To preach to the people That changed something When the sand of time Blind who wants to see the truth It’s not the people’s fault It’s the fault of propaganda that kills reality. People, this silence It’s a nail in the coffin In a country that dies poor and hoarse People, they have no compassion. Today a son goes not to war But it’s as it were. Today a son leaves home In the hope that it will To find better life Or will your life be compromised Facing the harbingers of doom Who preach that change It’s right t Here around the corner. Ignorance Far from my ignorance, I’m in the only place, Where can I kill her, Without committing any crime. Now I can just ignore it, That piece of me, That takes me away from wisdom, Of pure endless knowledge. Or else, kill it little by little, No crime or recriminations. Without being afraid of my actions, I grasp the wisdom of thousands of books. I torture it, disembowel it and cut it, She twists, screams, but from here, Don’t run away while I, student, Do not kill ignorance, That has haunted him since childhood. The one who is petty, evil, It made me an unloved person. It almost destroyed who I am, But finally I was the one who killed it. The pain of loneliness The pain of loneliness For the nefarious contempt To those who love the dark From her giving rise to random epics. Told across the seas the glory of the nation But fate gave them everything Less on the story, a little consideration These are the sages, representatives of Luso. Platonic lovers, ship designers, Dreamed of never sailed seas They defied death to make of scorpions poison, ink Distilling their poison, but unloved. Society killed them, like fleas Slowly sucking and poisoning. In the end, society proclaims rhymes as its Lay people are wise, the wise are uneducated. Cruelty Every drop of cruelty That form in the dew From the dawn of reality At rest, before work Of lives that dreamed of peace, All ideologies died For only one and only one able Dictated the fate of many who clashed In the reality of sins they didn’t commit. Corrupt laws in a unique theology In a corrupt theology above all others In a single line of thought When the being dares to be born in the dawn The day will be red and sad without love And the flesh slowly rots in the heat And to the sound of the orchestras of weapons. Soldiers occupy every bed These beds, where children could sleep And dream a better world and smile. Women, mothers and creators of science Protectors of happiness and childhood Could be free to be more and better May the Men who corrupt everything And that they forget what love is. Stoned, raped, sold, The best women suffer. Child soldiers, little lost souls Who could be holders of everything, suffer. True Only those who tell the truth, Knows its true real meaning. Comes from this, kindness Even for those who have forgotten That the truth should be the pillar Fundamental of human laws, next to respect. For which one must fight. Truth is not bought on the market Of counterfeit products But even so, it is sold for nothing, apparently. Respect is the foundation Of trust, and it is with trust, Along with respect, In truth there is peace among all men without exception. The truth does not kill but it grinds Who lies, mind closed-minded. It hurts? I know well that it hurts. If someone comes to you at dawn And admit, that this person who was mistaken, Someone lied about you earlier in your tailcoat. Take that person to your house And look who you have in front of you Be kind and share your food. If that someone is going to hit the whole hand later, It’s because he’s demanding, that’s obvious. You know you gave a finger. He this person asked for a whole arm, But it was a finger, it was what you could give. There you will have the truth. If afterwards the truth of your work is cut off Know you did your best to be better In that case, it’s better, even with love, Get the lie out of the way Because this is the best medicine. Captain I thought you were the captain From a drifting boat But after all you are the castaway with heart. Your hand that sails forever In sunken dreams written In sheets that the sea took with it So that sad and disillusioned eyes They couldn’t cry any more dyed salt. At sea you smile, captain of yourself King of thyself, emperor of wild sea On sea breezes and above all wilderness Where monsters lurked in your path You found your crown in the abyss And your throne of crystal clear water in pain Because beyond pain there is love. A love that no one can kill you. Profane, steal, deceive, obfuscate or even eviscerate.
By Antonio Madrugada7 months ago in Poets
Dreams and dreamers
We all are afraid to have dreams, no matter what, as we are afraid that the same dreams will never be fulfilled. There are those that work hard for fulfilling the dreams and those that allow the dream to die even before fighting for it because they believe that dreams are just impossible things to have. And those that believe that dreams will come true fight harder than others. Believing in the dream is not sin, but allowing a dream to die is. We shall never allow dreams to die while we have the strength and force to fulfill them and fight for them, battle for them, as society is made, and its rules are built and created to make sure that any dreamer will die in vain. It's a sad story, actually, and no one will ever understand the misery. A dreamer dreams, and those that create The Impossible stay in the impossible minefield. It's what they believe, and you cannot change them. There are those that want to be helped, and there are those that are hopeless because they don’t want to be helped at all. Many save the strength for the useless things in the rules of the human keen.
By Antonio Madrugada7 months ago in Humans
1900 days with creativity
In a world filled with wonder and challenges, I embarked on a remarkable journey that would span 1,000 days. These days were not ordinary; they were the canvas upon which the masterpiece of my life was painted. Day 1-100: The Awakening The first 100 days were a blur of excitement and self-discovery. I woke up each morning with a sense of anticipation, eager to explore new horizons. I learned to set goals, big and small, and relished in the satisfaction of achieving them. These early days were the foundation upon which my future adventures would be built. Day 101-300: Trials and Triumphs As I entered the next phase, I encountered challenges that tested my resilience. There were moments of self-doubt, but I pushed through. I faced personal and professional obstacles head-on, emerging stronger and wiser. I discovered the power of perseverance and the joy of overcoming adversity. Day 301-500: Love and Friendship During this period, I forged deep connections with others. I met people who touched my heart and shared my journey. Friendships blossomed, and love found its way into my life. These days were filled with laughter, tears, and moments of profound connection that left lasting imprints on my soul. Day 501-700: Exploration The wanderlust in my heart led me to explore the world around me. I ventured to new places, experienced different cultures, and tasted exotic cuisines. Each day brought a new adventure, whether it was hiking through lush forests, wandering through bustling cities, or gazing at starlit skies. The world became my playground, and I revelled in its beauty. **Day 701-900: Self-Reflection** As the days passed, I began to delve deeper into my own thoughts and emotions. I sought meaning and purpose, taking moments of solitude to reflect on my life's direction. This introspection led to a better understanding of myself and a newfound clarity about my goals and aspirations. **Day 901-1000: Fulfilment** In the final phase of my journey, I started to see the fruits of my labour. Goals that once seemed distant were now within reach. I embraced my passions wholeheartedly, finding fulfilment in pursuing my dreams. Each day felt like a step closer to the life I have had envisioned. As I reached the 1,000th day, I looked back on this incredible journey with gratitude. I had grown in ways I never thought possible. I had loved, laughed, learned, and explored. My life had become a tapestry woven with the threads of my experiences. But this was not the end; it was merely a milestone on my lifelong adventure. I knew that the next 1,000 days would bring new challenges, new joys, and new opportunities for growth. With a heart full of hope and a spirit that could conquer any obstacle, I stepped into the future, ready to embrace whatever it held. **Day 1001-1100: New Horizons** The journey beyond the 1,000 days began with a renewed sense of purpose. I carried with me the wisdom and strength I had gained from my previous experiences. These days were marked by a willingness to venture into uncharted territories, both in my personal and professional life. I embraced change with open arms, knowing that growth often sprouted from the unfamiliar. *Day 1101-1200: Giving Back** As I continued forward, I felt a deep desire to give back to the world that had offered me so much. I dedicated time and energy to causes I held dear, volunteering, and making a positive impact on my community. These days were filled with a sense of fulfilment that came from helping others and contributing to the greater good. Day 1201-1300: Family and Home** This phase, I reconnected with my roots and strengthened bonds with my family. I realized that amidst the adventures and achievements, the love and support of those closest to me were the foundation of my happiness. I cherished moments spent with loved ones, creating memories that would last a lifetime. Day 1301-1400: Mastery and Expertise** The pursuit of knowledge and expertise became my focus in these days. I delved deeper into my passions and honed my skills. Whether it was in my career or personal hobbies, I strove for mastery. Each day was a step towards becoming the best version of myself, pushing boundaries, and reaching new heights. Day 1401-1500: Legacy With each passing day, I contemplated the legacy I would leave behind. I aimed to make a lasting impact on the world, not just for my sake but for future generations. These days were marked by a sense of responsibility and a commitment to leaving a positive mark on the world. As I looked back on the 1,500 days that had now passed, I marveled at the rich tapestry of experiences that had shaped my life. The journey had been a mosaic of joy, sorrow, growth, and discovery. I had evolved into a person I was proud to be, thanks to the lessons learned and the paths explored. With gratitude in my heart and a sense of purpose in my stride, I embarked on the next chapter of my life, ready to embrace the endless possibilities that lay ahead. The 1,000 days had been just the beginning of an extraordinary adventure, one that I would continue to cherish and celebrate with each new dawn. Day 1501-1700: Mentorship and Guidance In these days, I realized the importance of mentorship and giving back to the next generation. I sought out opportunities to guide and inspire others, sharing the lessons I had learned throughout my journey. These days were marked by the joy of seeing others grow and succeed, knowing that I had played a part. Day 1701-1800: Health and Wellness** My focus turned to health and wellness during this phase. I embraced a balanced lifestyle, nurturing my physical and mental well-being. Each day, I practiced mindfulness, exercised, and made conscious choices to ensure I could continue to enjoy the journey for years to come. Day 1801-1900: Creativity and Innovation** I channeled my creativity into new ventures and innovative good ideas.
By Antonio Madrugada7 months ago in Journal
We do nothing
While we stay in the same place, the world and the universe itself continues to change. We are not in the same place where we were 10 years ago. Even if it's slow and we don't notice, we are moving constantly. Even if the universe goes quite slow. We are driving ourselves through somewhere. And we continue to ignore everything that we could not ignore. And changes are being made while we will continue to ignore everything. And we continue clueless without realizing that the world and the universe is being changed every single day. And while the time, the universe is timeless, it's also timeless as it should be. And we continue to ignore that fact for many reasons. As we don't learn from our mistakes that we continue to do every single day without realizing. And our knowledge is so limited. But we don't have another way to learn the same knowledge. Because the world and the universe continues to expand every single day. And we don't realize that. How dare we say and complain that the world is always the same when it's not. As it's said by different writers in different ways, from their doctrines to Charles Darwin. The clue here is evolution and change. And we continue to not understand the real concept of evolution and change. You've touched upon a thought-provoking idea about the constant change happening around us, both on a small scale and in the broader context of the universe. Evolution and change are indeed fundamental aspects of our world, and many writers and thinkers have explored these concepts from various perspectives. It’s a reminder of the dynamic nature of our existence and the importance of embracing change and evolution as integral parts of life. As we live in the world, the main goal of understanding this story is to teach all the human beings that while we are living, we continue to desecrate Mother Nature and to continue to do so, realizing it or not. We continue to destroy what was given to us with love and care, and we call that evolution. And that man goes through the evolution. But what man gives to this world is only one thing, destruction. And destruction continues to go through. And we continue to live. Unchanged and unpunished. But we will be punished. It’s just pity that there’s other ones, that they are clueless. They have to pay for the sins of the sinners. And they have to endure through the things that others did not create. There’s greed. And in greed, there’s destruction. Some, they don’t care. Some care, but cannot do nothing. Some care, and they have to pay for it. Your prespective reflects a concern for the impact humans have on the environment and the consequences of our actions. Indeed, the relationship between humanity and the natural world is complex, with both positive and negative aspects. Environmental degradation and its consequences are important topics that many individuals and organizations are actively addressing.
By Antonio Madrugada7 months ago in Earth
Should I?
Should I be the one screaming in this moment? Shouldn't I be the one talking about it out loud? I cannot be the one in silence in the dark room After I have seen the light first. The light you hided The scream you muted The crime you committed And whatever you lied and omitted. Just wished I could be courageous now. But after all, am I not that courageous? Ambiguous strange souls dark and no light Hidden agenda like yours, killing souls for own benefit I wish to say in the tomorrows to come I am whatever I want to be now because of people like you. I am not the one you muted I am just the witness of the lambs killed By your grasp while swore to protect them I am the witness of the broken promises For all the lies and dark smiles hidden The prices you begged claiming they would help.
By Antonio Madrugada7 months ago in Poets
