Under the Rivers, in D minor

Words falter afore a nameless door,

a wanderer is drawn towards a musical lore.

Words faint at his delicate heart,

how can he not such beauty adore?

His old friend Friedrich murmured

of the creeks that lived above in peace.

Till now they dwelled in merely his mind,

gracefully she sang, their souls he find.


Published in: on 28/01/2016 at 8:29 PM  Leave a Comment  

Notes on Uncertainty

What is nobler than a conscious mind,
where eternal truths and reflections you find?
Yet he who bears this most revered curse,
longs for death when all thoughts unwind. 

How can mystery share with knowledge an oath?
The pathos of romance is the desire for both.
He who wishes for a prosaic life,
tethered at the rite of the common strife. 

Infinite are the perils for wandering eyes,
where darkness enchants with a bitter woe.
No return from this sacrificial plight;
no warmth from a comforting ode.

His dearest friends from the graves spoke truths,
of the ethereal certainty he extolled in ruth.
Learned is he to praise the wind and the earth,
yet in torment his heart with uncertainty flirts. 

Published in: on 19/01/2016 at 4:25 AM  Leave a Comment  

Dream Note N.5 in C minor

A chaotic whirlpool was I in.

A peaceful nightmare marks my fate,

no heart trembles nor awakes.

Is this a sign of my deadly sin?

A nocturnal day I rose to,

intermittently conscious and

perplexed, with all of my doubts,

Pondering upon the temporal sprouts.

A mere apocalypse had being there,

Barely I recall the myriad of lairs;

but, that grave meteorite ceased

– a hungry raven, death was appeased.

I saw Saturn where the moon was,

summoning fears into our souls,

yet no laws of nature shall for us pause,

the end is but another cause.

Published in: on 13/01/2016 at 11:30 PM  Leave a Comment  

Dream Note N.4 in F minor

In this steady pace I walk,

from the wonders of my mind.

What crimes could I commit,

where no reasons could I find.

I wake from the haunting past,

in yet another dream I cast,

Never could I break this spell,

of this most melodic inkwell.

In a familiar prison I was asleep,

when folks like ghosts dwelled

through my world in ignorance,

when rainbow parrots by me fell.

A long fermata awaits at the door,

of my truthful illusions espoused,

for forgiveness I dare not implore,

what life awaits me at this forsaken shore?

Published in: on 12/01/2016 at 1:16 AM  Leave a Comment  

Empty Soliloquy in D minor

My friend, my friend, where are you now?

My friend, what are you thinking now?

How are you my friend, are you lonely now?

Is she by your side? Are you happy now?

My dear, dear friend, how are you now?

My poor, poor friend, are you weeping now?

For this weary age, for a past long gone.

Is life not treating you better now?

My dear, dear friend, I have no words.

My mind is away, in this bitter world

from, my heart, to you I sent.

My friend, my friend, my friend, my friend…


Were I to sing this to my love,

the song would never have being known.

Yet how can she hear my truest voice,

If all the beauty are mine alone?

Published in: on 03/01/2016 at 10:31 AM  Leave a Comment  

Nocturnal Stories

… At that moment, he realised something that lends her form only to Chopin’s nocturnes. How clear is her structure, her melody! Yet how elegantly elusive she floats under the gentle moonlight. It is existence! It is his existence! The beauty of life he lives, the will he exercised, his delicate hands, the genius, the solitude, the self-impositions – that only he who pays the price in torment may see. How he derives duties from pleasures! And how deeply he loves them, that he suffers for their perfection. Thus he is revered, for his seemingly lolling drifts above the garden of Aphrodite. Yet few knows of the hell-ridge he stands on behind her most beautiful cloak. None remembers his abandoned being. 

Published in: on 01/01/2016 at 10:08 AM  Leave a Comment