Bem decidi escrever poemas,espero que gostem

Morte

Veja a beleza na morte
os ossos brancos que jazem
sobre as terras ferteis e da
terra brota uma nova vida

Porque a morte e fim da vida
e a vida o começo até a morte

Cidade

Como lua que nunca para
Como planeta que sempre gira
Tanto sonho tanta magoa
Sempre foi assim esta cidade toda em frenesim

Lirio
Meu lirio que chora
meu lirio que grita
lirio de Morte
lirio de dor

Lirio que chora
Lirio que grita
meu lirio de dor
Meu lirio Pecador

Estão um bocado estranhos mas fiz-los agora...

Estão bons, não seguem nenhum esquema em especial, o que os torna mais espontâneos.
Agora já me sinto mais à vontade de expor os meus . Este é sobre zombies.

"The Season Swells In Antecipation For When The Dead Walk The Land"

Ethereal figures of death
Migrating towards our flesh
Resound eternal groans of hunger
Haunting us deeply in our rest

Pursuing safety with raped hopes
We reload pipes with mirthful lead
To guard us from evil until we're dead

The weather grows restless...
Winds blow a breath of damnation
Fauna ripped in passionate autopsies
Pleasures of insanity and annihilation

Benighted to this desease
Warm blood seduces them
Within wintery rotting breeze
Humanity castrated in undead splendour
In murder shall suffering cease

Crescendos of war grow louder
Devouring masks of morality
An onslaught of incessant pest
Risen from the bowls of mortality
Destiny befalls upon us
In the reign of dread
Where acrid days of banquets
Are blessed when meat is shread

From the rectum of Nature
Putrefaction decorates the Earth
In abyssic nightmare of defeat
Our demise brought us to rebirth

Bathed in murmurs of horror, we now walk the land...

E Bem... o poema que vou deixar a seguir é curto mas tem uma mensagem muito forte:

Killing for winning
Not always shooting
Dead is near
No one should ever see
Secret must stay
There's no outher way

Tonight we pray
To live anouther day.

Dá me a impressão que esta secção é só para poemas do watanuki...

*Esta secção passou a ser para todos os users*

Já que estão na onda de poemas em inglês, este valeu-me um prémio a nível escolar na disciplina de inglês:

Remember when a rude rupture of your bedroom window,
accompanied by a deceptively seemly shattering sound,
sent pieces to the floor?
A flutter from a familiar face’s fence.
In a disarray of orderliness, you thought to yourself,
“what an odd event!”
Actually, it’s not.

A sneaky swipe crossed the bar,
covered by a curtain, the colour of a billion screams of joy, defensiveness, malice…
as bright as the sanctimony,
that the hand is really ours.
I could see beyond the curtain that you hailed as the hand,
a subfusc, mighty tail,
invisibly sliding, its pen-work crepuscular from yourselves,
within your distorted minds.

The sky, within your mind
gripped your knees, as fast as guilt,
and pulled you to Earth’s floor.
Hope swelled as you saw a grave arm rise from the ground.
In your blind haste
you missed a blanket wrapping your head in the night’s liquid.
You and your friends:
the mushroom lunatics,
aimlessly wandered.

Remember when you were a child, and you lived in a beautiful castle?
The tail, in a friendly manner, waved its fingers,
yet, with a mind cochleate from eager cheers,
it abstractly slashed at the moat.

If the curtain were to be torn
and the disguise were to be no more,
a writhing tail would lay as a dissolved bug,
like a fizzling star, whose judgment, as you used to say, draws nearer.
Uncertainty would follow, as a large, seemingly beautiful part of us has been ripped,
yet this is in fact an arcanum bearing a heavy joy,
and sabres would rise from our heads, pelvises and thighs,
and be expunged as mere memories,
just like a burning forest.
If my optimism were to be,
delighted in the seven we shall live,
stripped of their lethality.
Mushroom lunatics will be stripped of their curtain,
becoming true men and women:
nature’s finest hour.

Within your mind, when you look upon the stars…
neutrality.
Yet, still as a victorious wonder,
and with spears as dust, our potential,
perfected as we become great pioneers
of the spectacular wonder rising within the sun:
tomorrow’s golden reign.

"Our Buried Faces Stare Down To The Bowels Of The Earth"

Restlessness consumes me...
I adorned a battlefield
In which the night destroyed
Leaving us in a raven shield

In near-death spasms, they twist...

Stars witness this human wreck
Wine poured from glass necks
Paralyzed in blood-red shores

Poetic screams awake the upper force
Through our ears, delicious remorse

Blasphemous spines ripped in content
The realm speakers echoed the torment
And last prayers remained unsent

The curtain of heaven closes
We descend through flaming stairs
Heating grief embodied in us
Fermented from lives once theirs
Tumultuous in intent, we burn
In this dark spectacle of despair

Souls die, our bodies remain
Buried deep face down
To remember who we slain