The good lie

Reality is boring

Everywhere you go

Reality is the same

People wake up

Sometimes get up

Eat (for those who can)

Work (for those who must)

Walk around passing ghosts

Hunting the city

Eat again (if very lucky)

Go to sleep (if very empty)

I can't

When the night rises

And all the deformed creatures

Leave their holes

When the dim light

Can't show shapes clear

And everything can be beautiful

By just putting a red

Dull light over it

It gains new form, a new history

A new angle through your lenses

Nights dignifies beings

Mislead our perception

What is black and white?

There is no such a thing

No shadows to blame

Everything is drunken dark

Things can only be seen

Through the eyes of our hands

And the eyes of our senses

Since the eyes that shallowly judge

In darkness are completely blind

Reality is boring

The night drives it away

And we create our own world

Through melodies and loud noises

Through white and colored powder

Covering our faces

Through lipsticks and ropes

Immobilizing our bodies

Freeing our souls

Cutting, hurting our skin

Healing our wounds

The true reality

We create our own

In our particular, micro cosmos

Which one is yours?

That's the primary function of art

Thus artists we could all be

If we cannot go to sleep

Over many ways we give life

To these new universes

Being through blood (for those who bleed)

Or words (for those who lie)

-----

Singapore, oct.2016

Poor in Singapore

Singapore

Poor of those souls trapped here

In this perfect, aligned, OCD paradise

Amusement park to prevent your complaining

/Thinking too much

But even in this task it fails

For being so dull, so doited

Singapore

Poor 11 years old soul

Forever drowned into your fake lake

Taken away by this insanity

Where skyscrapers creeps me

And concrete and steel are build

With human souls

You,

What can you show me beside

These too clean streets?

These too safe alleys?

These too guarded corners

Where cameras are the only eyes

That follows me

You,

How can you unmask this?

Vertical cemeteries of people

Buried alive, thinking they live

They are just ghosts hunting this ghost city

The city of everyone and no one at the same time

Singapore

Pour me a beer

Let's get drunk while watching

Others guts spread all over

While witnessing a Chinese fight

With eyes on fire but hands out!

So funny...

You,

How can we unveil at least one truth?

In this city of fake lions, fake lies

By letting the bar close

And every one go

By letting the comfort of darkness

Sweep away from our mouths

The ugly beautiful deep desires

Talks about the end of the world

Singapore

The real you is in the empty

Parking lots

The half dirty forgotten places

Inside this fragile skinny and wonderful

Singaporean body

Whose soul doesn't belong here

But somewhere in the infinite sky

The real you is in this

Synchronistic moment

When I fell this building were

Made only to sustain our feet

So we could stand here

Looking down and laughing

At those foolish city lights

You,

How can you show me its true side?

By colorful donkeys

With happy and sad eyes

Inside an empty house

Wanting more, but afraid to ask

Singapore

Poor of those souls

That didn't met you

And the shy and horny

Fire in your eyes

Don't look at me with those eyes again

Or I'll spend all my money
With Singaporean flights

The un finished poem ( October 2016)

(Wave one)

In one hundred and six pages I searched

I wasn't seeking an answer, but an escape route

But instead, the words lit on fire my heart

As soon as I closed the last page of that peculiar book

For days I'm trying to figure out a way

To put my heart into words

Feelings that cannot be translated

Even if my bahasa was enough 

And in those stranger's words I found

No direction but the one I already knew

That in this life only two things are certain

The synchronicity is the guide to those awaken

And death will come any time without mistake 

These thoughts we try to avoid

From them we run and live like we are forever

We are afraid of our written paths

Because they demand our soul surrender

Instead of putting my mind to dreams

The pages about the steppe multiplied the words inside me

And the certainty that I needed at least to try

Despite the fear of silence in response

To fulfill my path, I need to say these words for thee

(Wave two)

Padang

No sidewalk in this city

You need to squeeze yourself

In the street corner

And trust the wheels

Will pass by far enough

Chickens need to be smart

Every day is a dangerous game

I shake hands that pretend to take me to their heart

I wonder where to it really wants to take me

I wonder if it took me to the past

To see the true roots of this place

We would see people making love

On extensive lawns

Before the prayers, before the sort hair cuts

Before outsiders ripped off

The forest culture

Before civilized boats have anchored at the cost

Wasn't it a free man land?

Wasn't it a beautiful naked earth?

Made with buffalo people?

The horns showing their true identity, no lies

Dance and rituals under the moon

How beautiful would it have been?

The true nature...

Not this one of masks

Hiding desires

Creating deceases in the souls

Occulting real intentions of the heart

I wonder if all these cover are there

To also cover the daemons inside

Don't be mistaken, everybody has at least one

But the difference between you and me

Is that I know my owns

I shake hands with it

But you hide behind forced smiles

And stealthy, sly looks

You hide your cowardice

With the "pretending" game

You cheat emotions so well

That you yourself believe in your own lies

And they will keep you here

Chains that won't let you fly

Where the dangerous and

Misleading roads fits you so well