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the vacuity of the powers that be

mgenthbjpafa21
Hoje ontem,na próxima semana

Sim, absolutamente, se dana,

Se deita na cama do gato sem o devido trato.


People are  strange

Any door has know that for long

And Yakuza agree about the Tong.


World is changing, say, stopped world time

Is an hostile environment, you cannot move, 

The air molecules are still and so are yours

So it is an unsolved idea, not satisfying

If you have the concept, and thought is power,

As when you imagine at dawn a love at sunset

And get a dinner, small talk, confidence, eminent danger,

When you wake up tied to a bed you don’t recognize,

Have to get out and pay the bill with self despise.

That is called the arrow of time, a known concept.


UAE are great, and that small emirate that had no oil

Dubai, monstruous, delightful, day to day nightmare,

The kind of you cannot avoid supercars at DPD.


But the world is changing, so eventually time will stop

Not to turn things worse than the riches that pop,

Creating more billionaires every day, no holidays, 24-7

Not caring to inquire of ascension to any heaven,

Cause with the proper education, genetics , manipulation

Any simple soul can ascend to the pride of a Nation.  


Work and effort, sacrifice and resilience we have a hero.


You must have noticed by now that I feel sick 

And need a short life and a head kick, 

For, being poor, you are not real, 

The world turns, and as faster I spin

Inversely proportional angular momentum,

Lassitude, ineptitude, inertial, lost desideratum. 


Every day only some beauty,

The innocence of fibonacci petals

The lack of rare earth metals

Only this monstrous inner me 

The music and all these dances,

Supports the vacuity of the powers that be.


Not the rise of Endymion, Not Annabelle lee,

Not those tears and fears,

Only a mystery pushing everyday 

To the last, blissful, 

Last, also the least, above earth

Stay.


The urge to join the departed

And yet crawling in a map uncharted.


What is worthy, all the sunny side of the street

If I, obsolete, miss you so much, stranger you, concrete,

Not one more empty shell that, in time, offends my smell?


If you knew how would I care,

And yet persist, disrespect, offend to offend 

And finally wish you to be submissive, bend,

Offending me so much i cannot pretend,

And find the decision to, once more, dare.


It is old and true that there are monsters to live 

Hurting themselves, strong, and not the weak as prey.

Even when they both desire and destiny says you may.







 


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