quinta-feira, 27 de outubro de 2016

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

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