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.