The Souls Collector!! Day 3 napowrimo

~His name was sang to the four winds~

I was so carelessly sitting on my rooftop
seeing all-stars with the green lens

was a noise not a voice
but I was resting there
without hearing it very well
and reluctant to follow it

What is that?

from my special place i saw
some starving apparition
coming out of their stones

not sure…

and i saw even covering my eyes
grey souls coming in my direction

tattered and guided by His desire

~He was there~

covered by night
chewing those five souls

My eyes was a mirror of those pains

i shouted!!! No….

but they only could hear
the sound of the night

and still ~ in a perverse way~

~His name is sung to the four winds~

the collector of souls

He was in black!

 

He was wrapped in black tissue
when some people was shining
~and~
willfully he waits in shadows

at first was just a jacket’s shelter
In black
that evolves for a long dress
ready-made clothes
that made him strong and powerful
in his mind

clothes worn on Sundays
and shinning people in light
and how more gleaming in the sunday morning
how much more is his biting in dark

the light from inside must be clouded
little by little a shadow appears
making bright the shadow light
growing in dark hearts nights

but he claims, i am the light
and a book appears in white
where is she? Where is he?
bent, in a blackness page line

Letter to Mr. Dorian

Oscar WildeDear Mr. Dorian

I am surprised each time o  read  your book . Very. Even being  the third time that i read you.

Apparently you still causes amazement and controversy.
Spanned the centuries.
We’re here more hedonistic than ever and our picture remains well
hid.  Painted with dark colors.
Our decay reached a limit and even  you could not even guess. And at
the end, your  picture was not so ugly.

And

Your cross over the century and make me suffer. Because i have to reveal my life’s style . Reading you!
Even you being dead you inspire me.

I  opened  the pages of your  book  again and  something was lost.

Your ingenuous  Picture!

You are so beautiful Mr. Dorian, with your sweet out fashion sins.  Hanging on ours halls.

Don’t punish yourself with griefs or guilts. We  live now in a decadent way,  in fact it  is modern.

Your vanity, hedonism was your vision of our future. And the Victorian society that you fought  so bravely oh! You help us so much!  We are between You and the nothing that we create.

We walk a little but just because we are obliged. At heart,  we are the same man and woman from the past.

The laws, full of morality and restrictions on our behavior,  keep us on line. Rules  over us and dictate the limits of our freedoms. We are good by force not by humanity.

as I say, we are like cattle, all going in the same direction. It is still forbidden to think much. But a  little you can.

We can not more smoke Mr. Dorian.Is not politically correct. But we can be well succeed and grim all under ours ambitions. And the culture of narcissism is in vogue  too.

Now, all  women are equals.   You have to do a big  search  to find something natural on their  body .Strange no?  But is true.

And You tought   that your age was so conservative and pride!

How you are so  naif  Mr. Dorian. But thanks, you open the Gate!  Some of us still have a brain but no one like you.

That on  my humble opinion.

Well i am going  on my way now. Better not explain to much because on this time, we can not express  themselves freely. Although they say the opposite. But it is better not to risk.

No , no Mr. Dorian, not only the government now   but the big corporation Mr. But is too much to you see at moment.

Longing from you Mr. Oscar.

 

Blame the wind

There, between two pointed Rocks

vast plain to eyes see
a solitary man
stand still

the wind blows from the moorlands
reaches him

pretending
be her voice

fingers of death over your left shoulder

to give the bitter kiss

in the immense meadow

a solitary man
keep vigil

waiting so far
don’t seeing this view
between two worlds

where she lay

everything has to do with the wind

as it blows cold and cruel

over the relentless man

molded and carved by it.
among  the living
sculptured  man

there

embraced by memories

Now wrapped

for deadly dark souls

to give him hell

Blame the Wind!

A soultwo pointed rocks1

cut in stone

like the two rocks

at beginning of the scenes