Distracted Thoughts

Distracted Thoughts

in Buch aus dem Romeon Verlag

1. Auflage, erschienen 4-2018

Umschlaggestaltung: Romeon Verlag

Cover artwork: L.F. dos Santos

Text: L.F. dos Santos

Layout: Romeon Verlag

ISBN: 978-3-96229-950-7

www.romeon-verlag.de

Copyright © Romeon Verlag, Kaarst

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Distracted Thoughts

L.F. dos Santos

Introduction

My name is Luis Filipe dos Santos, In poetry, I found a way to release my thoughts into paper. Distracted Thoughts, is a well-flavoured book with bittersweet ingredients, well-disposed: Poetry and prose.

The result is a kind of stew, which reveals the strong as well as the weak points of mankind. Fiction with a trace of reality, an ideal blend to rouse up the numbness of our distracted souls. You will taste the divine flavour of what is ordinary.

lfilipesantos1@gmail.com

The Pine Tree

Majestically honouring the creator

in a quiet and secluded place

a rocky castle was built by nature,

elevated from the bowels of earth.

Archaic in structure, solid and inflexible

an architectural miracle

transcending a surreal stupefaction.

Rich in nourishment

for some biological species.

In the top of the cliff

the stage of the great maestro

succumbs to God is feet

among clouds cloaked with haze

refreshing its conspicuous roots.

In its long and steady branches

the nest of a golden eagle

dwells amid the leaves.

The wind whistled in its branches

scattering messages from a recent past.

Memories from fallen civilizations crucified by greed.

The maestro and its apprentice convey this revelation

by spreading waves of vibrant sounds

to all the trees of the valley.

Given to it by chance the divine faculty

because it is blessed by shape and splendour.

Glad to embrace its fate

picturing in energy what it receives.

Transferring for its fellows

in their inflicted blindness.

Memories from fallen civilizations crucified by greed.

The Piano

Black and white everyone in its vibrates.

A score to follow right or left in progress.

Notes of bliss in every piece.

Madness and stress fade

the spirit gains harmony.

Music is the key

a universal complex

just like love and sex,

two hands playing like ten

every filament confined in the stream.

Mozart worshipped the piano

a God within keys

glory personalised in ivory.

Sounds of heaven

pronounced for eternity.

Grand piano In pure wood framed

visual and purity not compared

to a lover, an event social,

there is no rival contra this body astral.

The Descent

A sublime ultimate descent

an epilogue of the sunny cloudy day.

Spreading light through its slender tentacles

piercing clouds, droplets, dust and shades of grey.

Cutting the breath off

remarkably narcissistic.

Serving the poet a delicious dish

argumentative, deign to exist.

Blue and yellow progressively

scatter away vanishing.

The red paints intensity

while descending.

Offering beauty and warmth

graciously bowing to the sky.

Lessening its contrasts of light

foreboding a goodbye.

Scattering the sound of the waves through the wind

the day succumbs to the night is feet.

Enchanting all the beings of earth

escorting them into calm and peaceful sleep.

The Ritual

Consumed by the waves of time

perpetually untouchable

in the penumbra

deeply inside the rocks is cave

a fleshless corpse lies.

Where the moonlight evanesce,

where the salt water

had no room to embrace.

Fireflies welled up surprisingly

to bright this mystical place.

Every night in the same field,

where hope and dreams

were formerly forged.

They enter the cave

wearing the spirit

of a resplendent woman

performing an unusual ritual.

Shimmering energies,

portraying memories

dancing freely bare-foot

among the apple trees.

Grass stirs

breeding sounds

of joyful laughs

to fade in the first rays of dawn.

The Return

Creeping along like a worm

stuck in mud infested with alcohol

spewing out guts and dreams.

Blank eyes, pallid orbs deep in bone

appearance a tangled mess.

He is lying on the autopsy table

declared dead.

He opens his eyes:

Where the hell are my glasses?

The Real Path

My will just as my soul

have painted the patterns

of this magnificent tapestry.

My life is not delineated yet

but transfigures itself

with every step I take.

Every breath feeds

my ravenous mind

releasing a million thoughts

of unravelled mysteries.

Alluringly attracting me

extending an invisible carpet

where I could strive safely,

disconnected from earthly criteria.

A wild mind aware of the essence of life

living freely connected with nature.

A biological calling, ingenuous and pure

beyond superficial clichés

a caring brave heart tamed

with the whip of freedom.

The Pact

The prince is fire in shape

image and splendour.

A magnificent species a flamed lover

in the art of amour.

No match on earth

nor in the moon.

Both succeeded

fertilising a bloom.

Under the magic brilliance,

of the mystical moon.

A grown-up being

was born.

A womb of soil,

rocks, roots, and dust.

The white haired princess`

breathing trust.

An incomparable beauty

emerald green eyes, round.

Ruby hues in her lips

her rose skin as hard as diamond.

A successful arrangement

a pact to balance the spun.

The princess was promised

to the prince of the sun.

Autumn

Leaves fall from the trees

dry fruits hang on their barely bare branches

with some resistant leaves.

The verdant soil now changes

into a pallet of warm colours,

red, yellow and brown hues enrich the royal tapestry.

The lazy sunshine tempers the breeze

scattering its golden rays,

painting in gold the vastness of the orb.

The playful wind whispering a cadence

of decay, sweeping away the leaves

in a journey of dissolution and decay.

The greens and browns turning

into sepia.

The nude desolate environment wears

shades of grey in his neglected veil of Autumn.

The ceremonial costume emerges to honour

the arrival of harsh, maleficent Winter.

The Bird Goddess

Her name is Iness.

She is dancing with all the birds of the forest performing

rituals.

Her bare feet softly caress the green plains

on the wet soils.

Like a small hummingbird

iridescent,

swiftly flapping her silk wings.

Hovering gracefully in the haze

freely embracing her fate.

The lady of the light

blessed with magic wings

to protect

to project God is energy,

flapping her wings

to clean the sins of the sinners.

To command her ravens to a sacred journey

gathering and guiding the wanderers is souls to the light.

The Magic Hood

She was lost

the day someone told her to go

and never come back.

Shadows of grey

painted and marbled of sorrow

the face of a teenager of sixteen.

Her eyes reddened drenched by tears

obscured by a muddy tainted hood.

Concealing the purple stains of grief,

carved on her skinny face,

personifying a perturbed soul demanding care

a human being lost

dragged into the darkest side of the abyss.

Screaming inside

blaming herself,

expecting while suffering.

Walking on the corridor of time

wandering thoughtful, justifying the unjustifiable.

She wore an invisible cloak as a talisman, as a shield.

A magic hood with a white rose sprinkled with blood imprinted

to conceal to protect her from the merciless claws of

fate.