[Personal] Poetry of disquiet
Hi! Here is a piece of my soul for those who are considering hiring me. I like writing - a lot - and sometimes I even do that in my spare time. Very silly, I know! These are some random poems I've collected over the years. They were found like seashells, brought to me by the immensity of life in its almighty randomness. These are very personal, so if you don't mix professional and personal life, don't read them, please. I'm shy.
The paths of life are so…
A new one comes, roaring,
And I can only feel the butterflies I’ve swallowed without noticing.
Or do I have them in me since I was born,
And today they’ve woken up?
They will wake up every day without a miss
Until my mind gets used to this new path
Which can be.
Already feel like I'm dead - and look, a fly comes and lands on my face.
I don't brush it off, so I don’t scare it.
Just imagine, it lands on a dead person’s face, and she moves… unprecedented.
I cry. I don't know why, but it must be mourning.
I really didn't want to go; there's such a world full of everything, static and dynamic, just waiting.
My heart seems to have no home,
In fact, I seem too alive, as this heart pulses strongly in my chest, sometimes in my throat, and other times it seems to almost come out of the mouth, on the top of the tongue, about to be vomited.
And the worst of all is that it hurts.
It squeezes it as if it doesn't fit and spins around in agony.
It doesn't matter where I am; it is there and beats thump, thump, thump, thump, thump, thump.
Erratic.
Under sunlight, the moon always lives, and that is the law of things.
The real challenge is to understand: which light reveals you?
Which light covers you with deep, kilometric waters
And that makes you disappear in the abyss for a while?
Many people believe that to reveal themselves is to show themselves, waving from an illusory window that is nothing more than blinding light, pure dazzle.
It is here, in the abyss, where treasures and jewels and self-sufficient fishes and the harmony of I don’t know what… may I call you darkness?
Jeez, I’m sorry
There is only darkness if there is light (and vice versa), and there is no light here
Only a crude window from which disadorned secrets trespass
I’m always suspicious of shiny ornaments and of people who wear them
Thank you
I don’t know if you have noticed it, but the most forgotten ornaments are the most beautiful, visceral ones.
You must remember the city of Atlantis, which also lost itself here, in the midst of the oceanic abyss.
We have all done that before (and soon come back, with the ricochet of misunderstanding)
The sky, of course, persists.
The moon as well, though it continues reinventing itself in cycles.
The sun gave rise to combustion, madness, and tenderness outbreaks.
And we… live, as always, going and coming.
Sometimes, we bring back a treasure, and other times, we go to leave one.
I feel acute like the beak of a bird
Blue. The bird is blue. It camouflages in the sky.
I hear quick steps;
I hear the crying of my mother;
Then I believe in karma.
I wish I could eat wisdom and mix it with my organs
As if we were one.
I wish I knew the secret of the moon and the earth
Who try so hard to be just one.
The sea suffers from love.
A soft heat kisses my skin, and I still hear
The crying of my mother; the quick steps.
There is still so much beauty…
In spite of everything.
I still have memories.
The past exists: watch the stars!
Everything I see is delay.
Still, I’m in love with punctuality.
Why?