Typical Old Book Cover : Blank

Just another day...

Another comunist eating a big mac

It's so hot in the summer; it's a waste of time.

Free thinkers are chugging Simon's chyme.

[Chorus]

Just another day in paradise!!!

Don't sit around; you better get green bucks!

While the fascists are doing peace signs

Happy Birthday, Rosy! Have some rotten pie!

[Chorus]

Just another day in this futuristic grime!!!

Life and microchips were a mistake.

A crisis is caused by greed and pain.

Don´t ask your grandma, or she'll rot in hell.

[Chorus]

Just another day is what it takes!!!

Just don't look at the news!!

Panic and powder are on the Day view!!

Shit eating grins showing a school phew phew!!

[Chorus]

Just another day in disgust!!

"The law is made for you to abide!"

exclaimed the micro-plastic rich with pride.

While politicians are launching the last genocide.

[Chorus]

Just another day in paradise!!!

The calm before the storm.

Waiting in vain, bound to a chair.

Is it me? or the walls are now green?

Why do dreams taste sweet?

Today is a new day, but I feel the same.

I try to run, but my legs just walk.

Why can't I write? Whom must I pray?

"She walked along the beach,

A small breeze made her dress swing.

She was alone, under the morning glow.

She was waiting for her friend to come."

What shall I write? Which ink should I use?

I weep for I don't know.

I don't want to, but I need to punch the wall.

"Until an aparition came,

in the form of a yellow grand hotel.

A majestic sight stood erect over the waves.

Hypnotic, as if the hotel were calling her name."

I sight in frustation; I can't wait.

Maybe tomorrow I'll finish a play.

But today, it's difficult for me to rest.

December fright

December fright.

There's no peace of mind.

Just empty laughs, echoing around.

-"OMG! Are you sad?"

-"Hide your face right now!"

-"You're dragging us down!"

Now, I drink alone on the roof.

Having a slice of pizza at midnight.

While fireworks paint the sky blue.

No more empty ball rooms,

No more wasted champagne.

It's so easy to say: "enough!"

Now the summer night is turning cold.

A small relief from the old,

Alone with my pop songs.

happy festivities to you all!!

Emanations from a desperate mind

There used to be a library in the middle of the sea. Almost touching the starry sky, as shelves stood the trees. A library that holds every story to be seen.

But you found it empty, in complete disuse. You're looking for a single small, pale book. In this vast desolation, it's waiting for you.

Written in gold, it's called "The things you like." quite obvious for those know-alls who don't care or mind. However, you want to learn more about your essence.

The library is endless; you shudder for what's lurking beneath the cold waves. With strong winds, you let the small boat move again. Maybe the next row of trees might have a clue as to where to find your soul.

A Midsummer Night's Melancholia

With dry lips, she contemplated the night Lonely, sad and thirsty for such a long time, She cried for she didn't know how, but her memories of glee turn to sorrow dust.

It was a still and silent summer night. On top of the world, she behold the closed house Once filled with laugh, now it's empty with shouts Anything not bolt to the ground, now is resting by the street light.

One step in front of the other, The dulled naked feet, step down By the edge of the moonlight She contemplated the summer night

Her cries were heard by no one except for the wind, Now sitting, arms crossed, eyes closed, gentle weep The cheery night did not care for her, Only when they were together everything seemed to be OK.

Now loneliness was by her side, Better forgotten than being forced to smile Yearning some rest and peace of mind Hoping to drink clear sky by the next morning light

The modern prometheus is a story about a neglected child trying to make sense of life while being outcasted by everyone, meanwhile the father is living its best life.

Writing dialog 2:

Two friends were drinking ice tea on top of a bridge, overlooking a dead road.

-"So... how was your week?" Asked Suzzane, mixing some sugar in the cold infusion.

-"Nothing out of the ordinary; I went to a cemetery," said John, sitting on the bridge's guardrail.

-"Thank god you didn't do anything weird! what happened? was someone you knew?"

-"No, the professor recommends that I see some scultures for my anatomy assignment," answered John nonchalantly, serving himself another glass of tea.

-"Let me get this right," said Suzzane, with a contagious smile. "When someone says sculture, do you think of cemeteries?"

She had a quirk when talking about something funny; she would move her hands as if they were a tennis fan, moving his head from one opposite side of the field to the other in mere seconds.

-"No, it wasn't my first pick; museums aren't cheap, you know." John almost choked on his tea. He was about to ask Suzzane about her week when suddenly heaven became real and in technicolor, a great roar could be heard from miles, John almost lost his balance from the guardrail, the silvery light became lighting shooting upwards, breaking that afternoon's peace in the valley, shaking bones, breaking glasses, and damaging eardrums. The rocket, the last wonderful thing humanity created, was now in high orbit, leaving a white, fluffy cloud where it once flew.

They were rigid, looking upwards, not in glee as Suzzane's little brother, but with disdain. The first rockets were a great talking point among the people of the valley, some sort of privilege and pride they share and show like a medal to the region, "They are close to the stars!!" Would said journalists but now it's more like a nuisance. The Mac's and Roudy's were the first families to leave, followed by the Carlson's and the Evans. Soon the grand majority of the town was a collection of empty spaces, lost in time while the future was roaring and flying no more than 6 miles from them.

Suzzane broke the silence.

-"The old tongues said that winter and fall were below 68 degrees, and that the rockets brought longer days and shorter nights." Said Suzzane contemplating the amber liquid flowing from the broken glass.

-"I went to the cemetery because it's quiet, no packs of people, no flashes, no laughs. I mean, what kind of museum puts on display bright colors and chalkboards? Cemeteries have that hidden effect on us; it's no place to be joking; it's solemn. A radiography of time, where different art styles and movements solidified for eternity, did you know that the real Gioconda was burned for her smile? Cemeteries have this aura of the past, the unbearable past, where all the bad, decadent, and violent were normalized, a place where museums go to die, where memories are set in stone, crimes and regrets are visible for you to be horrified or wonder, not only did I finish my sketches, I came with horrible conclusions."

But before John could elaborate, another wonder of humanity rose free from gravity. A deafening chorus made by millon dammed souls.

In order for something to prosper, other things or someone must be wretched.

-"I'm sorry about your father. I know things seem bleak, but he will get a job really soon." Said Suzzane, enveloping the broken glass in newspaper.

-"Thanks, it was a long week." John sighted, jumped from the guardrail to Suzzane, helped her put the glasses in the basket, and they started to descend the bridge.

-"My little brother is obsessed with space; he wants to be an astronaut when he grows up."

-"Good for him, I guess; at least he doesn't need to commute that much from here."

And they walked together, alone, in the middle of the dead road to their homes.

The pale man yelled alone.

Unnerving stanzas of Edgar Allan Poe,

I realized and cried, "You moron!"

"That's not a raven, it's a crow!!"

Another depressing rant

Anything can happen under the cheery sun.

Someone lost a balloon.

Others their life

But most certainly, their smiles

A lot occurs under the clear blue sky.

Injustice, robbery, and arson

Someone jumped after losing his mind.

There are lots of posters asking for a missing son.

On this nice, warm day

Families are forced to move away.

Genocide, war, and famine are all around the world.

But there's always more show.

While birds are chirping and kids are laughing.

The intelligent missiles are flying

In some other place, an earthquake has begun.

Right now, lots of animals are prey of the commercial hunt.

There is so much work to do.

So much pain and indiference

What's the point? Is there any difference?

Then the madman is the one who lives alone.

Orange crescent moon

My dear friend is near.

But it is so far away.

I saw her last night.

By the side of the road.

How many years have passed?

How many tears had I wept?

No matter what choice I make,

I forgot to pray.

How much does the guilt weigh?

How much time passed? Or I ate.

Now she's a shadow of herself.

While a hole grows larger in my chest.

I want to sleep by her side.

Hiding from undefined mistakes,

For once, to feel rested and well.

Again, I say, so fair, lady.

Eyes as blue as the sky,

With a charming, big smile,

Her red lips against a skin so pale.

I should forgive everyone.

Even those who broke my entrails

Because God is looking up there.

While the moon is my only friend.