A box of matches

A box of matches,
is all that took,
to keep me warm,
and made the world hooked.

Like in a fairytale,
written by Andersen,
about one winter,
that was quite bothersome.

What I had saw
and what I must do,
across the universe,
I´m reaching for you.

About the northern lights, you know,
and perhaps in fear you might be,
but dreams come true for the brave,
and there surely are wonders to see.

                                  ...Just one star? Make that three!!!
                                           No more prophecies everyone´s free, from this madness of Paris...

Undone be London
and it´s November,
pick a perfume,

for days to remember.

And bring an umbrella
in case of the rain,
because together,
we´re spending the day.

Don't forget some jokes,
about that one date,
when people of Notre-Dame,
sang: "When Saturn comes late...".

You may know it all,
some secrets had been told,
but I only want a hand,
which is only mine to hold.

And if you might wonder,
what I might ask,
after all that happened,
what´s left to mask?

And if you will doubt,
that I can´t let go of control,
I rest you assured,

I just want to watch the flow.

                                  ... and I´m just wondering, what the last gift shall I give?
                                                              But I can think about it in those last 3 years that I will live... 

The Day That Never Died...

I wish I could tell you a lie,
how I wish this day would have died,
because when this day happened,
and I had certainly cried,
but this one day
never had died...

I remember how we talked,
under the open sky,
about the things that happened,
that not many survived,
about the meaning of the Philosopher´s stone,
and if it´s just a radioactive ore in an aluminum foil...

About the parable of the Prodigal son,
and how is it about Lucifer thinking he won,
and about the visions, that future may bring,
but that fateful day has a painful sting,
because I realized, I will never wear the ring...

And that day, that should have died,
would become the center of my life...

I was there for you when you attempted suicide,
low on money, not swallowing your pride,
and the things your father had said,
resonated, and we made a plan that paid...

But you viewed me as a brother and nothing more,
my heart is certainly washed up somewhere on the shore...

And I had worked the fields all the summer nights and days,
so some dumb-urban people would have something to say,
I thought  you understand since you were abused,
but since you, every boyfriend colored me used...

...

That fateful day that should have certainly died,
and Lord knows I tried to forget, oh, and how I tried,
but I still remember the sunset next to the moonrise,
how the evening started and the morning was a surprise.

How the summer rain came and went,
but not one dime of silence was spent,
and we realized, that when feminists start to toot their horn,
we will become forgotten, the urchins and the later-born...

And we fought for our generation that was used at the time,
but many were manipulated into the life of crime,
almost as you, as it was so tempting,
to have what everyone has, and now you were getting...

A glimpse of hope was seen with their scream #AllforJan,
and only we knew, he wasn´t the only one,
and even our prez found out he is gay,
but he will not come out as it´s not the Day...

I thought that everything in me had died,
but this Day, only Lord knows what else will survive,
and their scamming agenda for family values,
will strip even women from some of their status...

But since you had left with that Day of a dream,
I worked my way around, to get where I need to be,
and even though this will not end my tries,
it´s time for me to say to it the last goodbye...

As for this day, that never had died,
it´s time for me to bury it, even if it´s alive,
so is the purpose of this poem, or at least it´s its aim,
as on a haunted grave, I hope it stays never looked upon again...

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pnTZa4FY_7I

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eukcZ5J-3Hc

The Painting

A mural brushed by eons on the wall,
from a fairy godmother, a lost call,
bells, dust, and dollars on the waste,
last visitors and no poker face.

But a smile from under the veil,
the mysterious prisoner without a bail,
as a quick spider, weaving its web,
a princess is meaningless for a pleb,

A flower, a rose, a common sense,
the wars of angels are getting tense,
and while you´re waiting with a bouquet,
your lips may lie, but your eyes aren´t okay.

And so a chilling mist couldn't fell,
not for a song disguised as a yell,
thus lower your back, take your poise,
in this orchestra of static noise.

This is not the end, as the wars may come,
the moon is for all, but the stars are for some,
what can I say, I just can not lie,
but for a smile, how many can die?

She painted like a kid with her hands,
the flowers, the dollars, the common sense,
and the visitors came after all,
to pay her and to see her fall...

There´s something wrong with what you had paid for...

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gOgpdp3lP8M

A whisper

Solemnly night of a soulless fear,
holding to your heart as it is dear,
in a light shining as courage itself,
under the nightly hour of twelve.

No pearls are hiding under that cloak,
there are no apples under elderly oak,
if words of hope are giving you dread,
heart can shiver,  but the soul is dead.

A beautiful ballad of chance and choice,
a harmony of a swan song and poise,
merely an illusive ending for a heart,
will give your soul an ahead of a start.

An internal winter starts a bonfire,
that fuels the heart and it's desire,
and from that, will births the strength,
which you can travel to any length.

When climbing the hill nears it's end,
it's up to you, if you will crack and bend,
instead of worrying if your luck will shift,
be to yourself the most biggest gift.

A dark night always creates the sun,
after the moon ends it's nightly run,
from a cold wind you can have a blister,
or you can take it as a hopeful whisper.

Life is a dance of a soul and it's heart,
where one would end, the other starts,
a snow is a water inspired by sand,
when taking a bow, prepare your stance.

A Dream

A dream has a strange scent, the one that can hide the dark, and when you savor it till the end, it lefts on your soul a beauty mark. I know that love has many shades, so it doesn't seem to be vulnerable, but as a queen of hearts and spades, his gaze became more memorable. But my dream wasn't just a game, even when the north became south, hope and tears came without a name, and it took my breath from my mouth. He stood there, as he tried to be mine, and maybe even stars fell that night, but silent as a little anxious mime, he watched as tears covered my sight. Maybe he liked me a little bit more, with hidden heart, away from the world. How will it be, if he was more sure? ...the dream is now a thought to hold...

Shiny Star

Above the heaven, there is a star, always so shiny, shinning so far, just for a stranger on traveling night, who chose the wisdom over his fright. While everyone sleeps, the star shines, between the trees, on tangled vines, but this star isn't just what it seems, because this star is caring for dreams. She granted the sleep at end of the day, so people will do, what heart has to say, for now this are dreams, just in the head, but one day they'll turn into life instead. And for the Stranger, that refused sleep, because of the fear he holds so deep, he needs no worry, he needs his time, just a search for a peace sold by a dime. A Stranger's not lonely, neither is sad, no need to worry, nothing went bad, for some he's a goon, for some he's in love, but every night he's sending to the Star a dove. It is his thank you to that little dot, which when find, finds us our spot, she sees in to dreams of the hive, patiently writing the poem of life. Some people are grown, some need to be dark, because they're afraid of their own spark...

Storm

The time of slumber reached it´s end,                                                      

wake up my soul, the messsage was send,
hear me at midnight, oh, how shall I howl
at the midnight sun the wolves should enroll.

Oh, the sands of time just started flowing
and my wandering heart learned where it is going,
thus my mind has entagled on the one true goal,
this is the beginning of my midnight howl.

Fear me my enemies, ´cause my blood was seeded,
I don´t have fear, when the only hope left is needed.
Enemies! Prepare for the unforseen consequences,
because you are in domain of the grey eminences.

I am not seen, thus I am not conventional,
remember my foes, that I am eminentional.
Forsake your dreams, the storm had arrived,
bent over the knee and swallow your pride.

Sounds of thunder are shaking your lands
and your allies are betraying your hands.
Our everlasting wrath is mighty and stunnig,
you easily forget, that winter is coming.

We swallowed the moon, the sun and stars,
you pray for your lands, but the heavens are ours.
Behold, ´cause our hearts are golden and pure,
and you became nothing, just a prey to lure.