November - December 2023 Compilation

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XLI - Blunt skeptic;
XLII - Sea maidens;
XLIII - The (wrongly called) Poems;
XLIV - Requiem for a friend;
XLV - The fiend in my mirror;
XLVI - Requiem for a friend 10/12;
XLVII - Perfectionism;
XLVIII - The zombie in my mirror;
XLIX - True story;
L - My obsession.

XLI

Blunt Skeptic.

I don't believe in heaven,

I don't believe in hell;

There's nothing after death, nowhere left to dwell.

I don't believe in love,

I don't believe in deities;

Striving for answers, men invented many absurdities.

I don't believe in selflessness,

I don't believe in kindness;

We all expect something to gain, nobody wants to act in vain.

I don't believe in fairies,

I don't believe in devils;

Made up lies to constraint the daredevils.

I don't believe in ghosts,

I don't believe in soulmates;

There's no soul that to love or haunt you awaits.. 

I don't believe in justice,

I don't believe in karma;

Death is the only fair punishment for the felonious anathema.

I don't believe in good,

I don't believe in evil;

Mere points of view converging in upheaval.

I don't believe in esoterism,

I don't believe in magic;

If such things existed, life wouldn't be so tragic.

I don't believe in the tarot,

I don't believe in the runes;

You'll never know of the events taking place in the upcoming moons.

I don't believe in freedom,

I don't believe in free will;

With your experience, you built your own bastille.

I don't believe in rights,

I don't believe in wrongs;

It's all subjective, the truth to nobody belongs.

I don't believe in oaths,

I don't believe in promises;

Nobody ever’s been true to their so-said purposes.

I don't believe in truth,

I don't believe in lies;

It all subject to the witness's eyes.

If it can't be proven exist,

Whether through science or personal experience,

Then from believing I resist, excuse my deviance.

XLII

Sea Maidens

It was such a beautiful night in the absurd land of the dreams,

I was walking all alone at the seashore blessed by sight of the moon beams;

It was then that I approached the sea and saw,

From the bottom of the sea, meremaidens swimming around the moon's reflection.

Soon I tried to withdraw, but I couldn't for I was in awe.

As I walked back to the safety of the beach’s sand away from these beings.

I've heard a voice from above, quite soothing, and gentle, its charm I couldn't stand,

Instructions given, doors appeared behind me, I followed her command;

If a door I opened, I'd be granted the meremaidens blessings.

So I did and so happened, in no time,

Three of them fish-like maidens from the sea slowly arose,

Not approaching them would have been a crime;

Only their heads were visible at the time I approached, I thought they were no foes.

As they slowly stood up I observed that their body was covered in scales,

So feminine, humanoid, was their shape;

Big black eyes like those in alien’s tales,

A sight to behold, I fell in love, a spell from which I refused to escape.

Without a word the dream moved onto a different scene,

Us four walking through the empty streets of a renaissance-themed town,

I was aware that the time was running out, it was time to awake,

We barely ended our conversation about me, my world and the one unseen.

As I turned to say goodbye, I was given the warmest of all embraces,

They had cold bodies, I must add, in my frozen heart they left their affective traces.

In the end to one of them I kissed; her, my love, reciprocated.

A few seconds later, from her cold yet warm lips I parted.

They said in unison, I remember well,

“If you ever need us, just give us call, and we'll be there”;

I woke up that morning with wet eyes and a heart racing, saddened by our sudden farewell.

Yet again I was back to my usual life, the one I live in solitaire.

They still dwell in my mind & heart,

The crown on my lover's head I still remember.

Was her a princess of sorts? Was this just a start?

Was I really blessed that night of September?

I kept moving on since then,

My soul perhaps less empty hoping we meet again,

My heart under their love’s spell,

My mind, ready to yet again face another day, life's damned hell.

XLIII

The (wrongly called) Poems

Knowing nothing of actual poetry, I write

“Poems” about this and that, all day and all night.

Well-versed in Poe's poetry, barely knowing Hardy’s.

I dare to write such offensive literary aberrations.

Free verses come and go, from the imprisoned and rotten soul

Of a cynical man who looks for something that makes him whole.

I dare not to accept the title of poet, for it is way too big for myself,

Bearing it would be, in my opinion, the greatest offense to the actual poets in my bookshelf.

I recognize in shame that all I write are half-assed verses,

With little to no rhymes at all, and all full of curses.

With vocabulary quite limited and poor

That would give a good laugh to any scholar and raconteur.

I write about memories,

Sometimes also about fantasies,

More often than not about tragedies,

And also about the things I don't even believe in, things such as true love and its absurdities.

I'm but a fool rearranging words in a blank page,

Writing words without meaning in passionate rage.

With ideas barely even clear, a numb chest, and artificial feelings.

Making up crappy stories with shitty endings.

No rhyming schemes involved,

No literary or poetry knowledge used.

Call these skill-less writings of mine, not poems

But mere ugly and art-insulting word amalgams.

XLIV

Requiem for a friend 

We've met in the darkest of times, at the edge of the abyss.

Our virtual worlds connected, so did our hearts,

Developing slowly but surely a bond, a friendship, the best of arts.

I must admit our time together I'll forever cherish, and undoubtedly miss.

Thus I write to you, my friend, with the best of intentions, an elegy.

A requiem composed by the beating of our hearts in sync.

Be not sad, feel no guilt, I wish not for an apology.

I understand you must leave, so may death set you free in a painless blink.

December 10th, the date of the end

Of a beautiful tale of tragedy, friendship, and feelings untold, the day to the void you ascend.

May our souls together in the realm of nothingness blend.

May our bond last beyond its threshold, and our tale all others transcend.

Farewell damsel whose bright smile I could never behold,

Whose gaze is both loving and cold,

Whose voice is soothing and loving.

Farewell damsel whose breathtaking face I can only imagine, I love you, always had, always will.

XLV

The fiend in my mirror.

The more I look into the mirror, the more I hate my reflection.

Such a hideous vermin in my view, makes me wanna puke.

So horrible is its pale skin and plump complexion

Such aberration can't be redeemed with just a fluke.

Forced to live with this Halloween mask sticking on my deadpan face,

Dressing in black in hopes to hide its disgusting figure.

Looking like an ogre, worse couldn't be my disgrace.

Even with losing weight, my true nature I can't displace.

By the end of this excuse of a poem I've already accepted it: “I'm doomed”.

The blue-eyed fiend my soul's beauty has already consumed.

No more redemption on sight, no chance to be groomed.

Ugly I'll live and eventually die, just as I presumed.

XLVI

Requiem for a friend: 10/12

Before you left, you said,

“You are light, and I hope you realized that or come to realize it soon.”

And yet no matter how much I thought of it that afternoon.

Your words remained unprocessed in my head.

“Hi love”, “December tenth”, “That’s when I leave”, “Thank you for watching over me”.

I was never against what you were planning to achieve,

Was it really okay to support you and let you be?

In my reflection I see a fiend,

Where you saw “a real life angel”, a compassionate man.

I see a useless fool uncleaned,

Where you saw a smart and gifted guy with a life plan.

Before you left you read my elegy, shared inspiring words, and another day went by.

A man in love, a broken girl, the day of the end, getting nearby.

Have I ever gotten to confess how much I wanted us to be something?

Not at the time I write this excuse of a poem, the distance and fear kept my wishes abolishing.

“Bonds beyond the cyberspace” was the title of our poem,

And “A better way to die” the song I dedicated to you, our requiem.

Edgar Allan Poe our poet in common,

We found in his writings solace from abandon.

“Anxiety”, “Agoraphobia”, “Traumas”, shit you had to deal with.

I understood then that an armor of affection, for you, I wanted to smith.

Suicidal since twelve, just like myself.

We understood each other like books of a same shelf.

“Soft rock, shoegaze, indie, rap”,

Genres you listened to, to fill your soul's gap.

I took notes on all of our conversations to never forget a detail

About the girl I loved, and how could I help her find the right ending for her tale.

What else can I tell, you meant a lot to me, and now you're gone, I miss you.

But I know you're now a part of the void, the place to which, in the end, we'll all go too.

And if you're reading this and you're still alive,

Then let's keep moving forward together, let your old self die, and our bond thrive.

A quote you once shared, Jade, still resides on my mind's alleyway.

So I'd like you to complete this last stanza with it, for fun.

"Tell me all the terrible things you've ever done…

XLVII

Perfectionism

Perfectionism is like having a gremlin on your shoulder

Constantly pushing you to do things a certain way even if you don't want to.

It’s having to roll over and over a huge boulder

To the top of the hill just to get showered with insults out of the blue. 

It's the overwhelming and constant cough of criticism

That never stops haunting you in your dreams. 

It's making a silly mistake and getting crushed under thoughts so silly, sometimes grim,

Or like chasing a carrot just out of reach on a whim.

It’s like a voice resonating inside your head

Telling you all your ideas are crazy or ill-fated,

Making you feel like you're living in quicksand instead

Where stifling exhaustion is something that's constantly debated. 

XLVIII

The zombie in my mirror

Why do I always have to stare into your lifeless eyes?

Why can't I see in you the person I wish to be?

Why do I find in you all that I despise?

Deep within you I see the brain-dead equivalent of Edward Hyde,

A hideous man with no soul nor heart inside,

A grotesque monster, my rotten soul's debris.

XLIX

True Story

I've always been the guy to sit at the back of the class,

Never been talkative, interesting, cool, nor a smart-ass.

All I did was sit on my little corner to read, write, reflect.

My silence, my poker face, often perceived as a sign of disrespect.

Always felt disconnected from everything and everybody,

All I've ever been was a blank doll, a Mr. Nobody.

Always been a depressed, procrastinating, asshole.

Always kept my distance, never wanted anybody to see my garbage soul.

They didn't reject me, but I still hid within my shell,

Always kept myself safe from social hell.

Anxiety consumed me every single day.

I'd always be seen daydreaming, writing, letting my thoughts drift my pain astray.

Never left the classroom, not even during breaks.

Fortunately nobody cared, despite the complaints, I did as I pleased, one of my life's greatest mistakes,

Was to be a rebel who played by the rules.

Always felt like the greatest fool among the fools.

Always did good on the exams I never studied for,

I was okay with low scores, all I wanted was to pass.

Never found in these numbers anything to be proud or ashamed of, it was to me just another chore.

In contrast to most folks my age, I never felt attracted to any lad or lass.

Never had anything interesting going on in my entire life.

At home or at school, it's always been the same monotonous purgatory, it's always been rough.

The days just repeated themselves 365 times to me, that's why my neck soon got acquainted with a silver knife.

Never dared to finish the job though, saw days go by, I was never brave enough.

Suicidal since I was a child, a maniac obsessed with his own death.

Always blaming myself for everything, hitting and punishing myself, constant hatred.

 I swore to see myself as my own worst enemy until I gave my last breath.

I've lied, harmed, and deceived so many. To learn to love myself will be extremely complicated.

Can't say I'm a bad guy,

I refuse to see myself as a good guy,

Compliments are mere lies that I refuse to buy.

Authority’s been something I've always been ready to defy.

I became a fiend, in my eyes, an irredeemable monster.

A pathetic, useless, nerdy fat-ass consumed by anger.

When I look in the mirror I see,

The piece of shit I could have never intended to be.

DECEMBER

L

My Obsession

From dawn ‘till dusk, in my mind

There lingers a thought quite unkind.

The one about dying in different ways, in different circumstances.

Unfortunately I was never brave enough to take any of the chances.

Always hoping a vehicle runs me over,

That a lost bullet pierces my vital organs.

Hoping that before madness takes over,

The reaper slashes my head off, and sends me to hell to pay for my actions.

As I stare at my reflection, I see my eyes bleeding,

Hear suicidal madness always cheerleading,

At the back of my mind, a constant reminder of self-hatred.

A mindset that, from unknown origins, I adopted.

Pills tempt me to overdose,

Ropes call me to hang myself,

Outlets to electrocute and say adios,

Books in my bookshelf, to hit my head to death.

As insanity sings it's cruel songs to me,

I lose all hope of being again the man I used to be.

I give up, fall down, and wait for my demise

Believing that death is freedom, the lost souls’ prize.