My Shocking Truth

I don't quite fancy the idea that a teacher should resemble the character aspects of a martyr, for the same reasons that doctors shouldn't be accountable as gods or scientists as flawless brainiacs. These mythological and fantastical labels that are often stick on some professionals bring more harm to the efficiency of the job than the belief that is part of praise and encouragement. It means that idealizing these professionals has close ties to dehumanizing them. When a professional is dehumanized, society doesn't seem to take their responsibility seriously, a responsibility that the professionals warn us all the time. Meaning that a god-like doctor is one who cures all diseases, instead of a society that is more concerned with their personal health care. A know-it-all scientist is one who carries all the answers instead of a community more engaged to create, question and produce more knowledge. Such as a teacher that is seen as a martyr, hence, it is the person who makes ...

You are not important You are not useful It doesn't matter how much you tell yourself that How much you tell you or you fellows How much you lie to yourself and pretend that there's a plan, there's a reason. Well, there's not. You are not important. How many people will you see dying and vanishing in oblivion until you realize? You're a piece, a wheel, a replaceable wheel. And do you want to know why you're replaceable? Because you allowed them to You let them make you an obedient and docile wheel A wheel spinning torwards a dream Make believe there's no sorrow Make believe there's a rainbow Somewhere over Whether you're being replaced  Discarded as garbage You will even say: thank you for everything There's no machine without a wheel There's no will without the machine We're as One One as Wheel Wheel as We We're as One They break you everyday They fix you every when You're his victim  Of a self indulgent stories The machine fairy...

As soon as early you've spread your mighty wings And passionately you set the world on fire Your pointy feathers like a reliquary Let us all alone in this unspeakable ol'pyre. And as the widely opening of your eyes You carry your deeds inside yer big heart And flying through the fences of the wise You let us all in sadness, you depart. Though shine beyond where we not understand Behind will stay the angels that you've raised Those smiles, those myriad happy lands In memory of your love, you're honored, you're praised. ---------------------------------- In the loving memory of a person that was too passionate and too young to leave everyone behind. May your soul or spirit find peace. May your friends find comfort in the happy memories they have of you.

Time is a gift given and never returned Time is a curse stolen and never recurred I give you with my heart beats What I don't claim back. The time that your company feels in me And I greatly lack.

We run as a river Feeding unaware the existences of nameless creatures Marging the limits of our lives And at some point We'll be torn apart I'll someday share part of your ocean Or you, part of my stream In any case We both know We both should know We Are We water

Please Sue, don't leave my side Give me the strenght to embrace you There was this girl who had so few memories That she ceased to exist She decided then, to become wind And it swept all the bad feelings away Everything vanished in a sweet relief of pain She marched to the top of a hill Where she, with a look, gazed at her lifetime will Everything was wrong, nothing was new The lady on the leap of life Mourning her confusing fate, stood still She mumbled, in silenced tears Stuck in cold prison through the harsh of years "Please Sue, don't leave my side" Taking the leap, her spirit floated above the seas Faded out athwart the centuries Obliterate she was, a canvas in the sky Disregarded as ever was, transmuted Into a fast shooting star Now everyone makes wishes Albeit she did for her being But nothingness becomes nothingness Down there, where the floor is the floor A bruise on her neck A chair on the door A soft tune of weep The sunset ...

Unbroken The girl The little princess, safe in her tower of love How many sets of ears does she glove? Her shilly-shally smile towards life But her own hero she carried off Cape flying, she sees, with the drift, The man she gazes, for all eternity, amazes. The man Impavid eyes chasing dreams beyound The horizon is just a line But what happens when the hero begans to fade while the human within starts to cave? The greatest mountain can be hollow inside And fall into dust when the earth shakes Even if the shake is a farewell look A stare of goodbye There is, for sometime No ground, no sky But even so, mountain born, mountain go by.

Cry Let me out It hurts too much Inside Where`s the key? There's no Key There's your mind What a... What's that? I've brought you something Oh, that's kind. A twinge in the stomach A sarcastic point A flavour different from yore Is this a thought? It's lemon lime Great stuff That's mine. What a bore Fetch me those flowers Which ones? Up there, by the sky Oh my, look the hour Stay more Tomorrow So, drop by That's a date And there'll be masks And no more asks And no more tasks Or more poor rhymes Care to open? I can't Oh let me Stay back Get aside Try this This one? That's Good Ginger Bread Bread Winner Pose Feint? Dying Cry Sometimes I don't believe in what the mirror on the silver lake implies.

Schools don't teach you anything at all. Schools, although, give you a substructure to real life. The learning comes from what you've built and fulfilled of this substructure.

Truth is not in the news, nor in the books, or science, or religion, or society, or factual events of life.  Truth is in your inner and deep opinion about all these things.  Everything else is a diversion of truth.

Drop the flags Drop the flags! Cries the man with no hope But thy deepest pain it  won't cope Drop the flag of deadly lies Leave it whilst where everyone dies The silent look of owl and cat The idea remains while man's in depth For the coffin only it'll enfold The man about himself stories The flighty truth over the sea Buried forever hidden untold. Drop the flag of any color Of any flimsy shallow dream The rose is red on sad tears Of a poor poor mother in huge vent Lost in muttering mourning fears. Drop the flag which kills the soul And as a coffin blanket in the end Will bring as it feels and as it falls. ============================================ Em memória de Rafael