Purpose

No purpose. Even the ramblings of the mind are both useless and counter-productive. They serve the egotistical purpose of feeding the pretentious mind of the individual. A way to attach words to a vain sense of awareness of the surroundings. Settle with a life without a purpose. In search of a meaning it's easy to get lost in meaninglessness. No, a second is not a moment of joy, it's a second. It's not a drop in the ocean of time, it's simply a second. Happiness is not a goal, neither it is a byproduct of actions, it's a way of the weak to wander around in the safe routines of life. Joy comes both in the form of tears and smiles and finding the right path just obliterates the existence of the remaining ones. It's like going to a buffet and only eating chocolate cake because it tastes good. There's more than chocolate cake. Sweet, bitter, salty foods, willing to stimulate all your senses if you give them a chance. And you settle with chocolate cake.

But this is just a useless and counter-productive rambling of the mind... lost in the search of words forgot the reason why I'm writing this. Maybe there is no reason. Or maybe I just don't feel like writing anymore.

Tomas Roda

Fantasma

Ser fantasma,
Segundos perdidos na perdição de cada hora,
O passado quero-o onde o tenho,
Sempre um momento antes de agora.

Tomás Roda

Under the rain

Under the crying cloud:
empty tears,
haunted by fears,
a symphony, a blind sound.

Under the rain:
a sad silence,
unbreakable chain,
No sense in pain.

It's all pretend,
Under the rain,
It all comes to an end,

under the rain.

Tomás  Roda

In the light of being

I've never known...
It's simple,
I never cared...
I mean,
I still don't know...

And in not knowing
I feel so scared.

Tomás Roda

Perder

Perdi-me.
Perdi-me nos teus lábios.
Perdi-me nos teus cabelos.
Perdi-me...

E em perder-me,
assim te perdi.

Tomás Roda

Na jaula

Na jaula,
Na jaula não há poesia!
Não há rima, não há cantar.
Nem há cheiro a maresia,
Da jaula não se vê o mar.

Na jaula,
Na jaula nada se diz!
Só vive quem respira,
e em respirar se tem feliz,
na jaula a vida expira.

Na jaula,
Na jaula morro.

Tomás Roda

Quero

Amor é querer.

Na ausência da certeza,

a garantia do prazer,

ensinar é aprender,

e amar...

Amar é viver.

Tomás Roda

De volta...

Muito tempo depois das minhas últimas publicações, decidi voltar a escrever.

A realização dos desejos começa na exteriorização. As emoções moldam e enriquecem o mundo.

Lake of blood

Innocence,

unawareness.

Guilt,

intention.

words that drown in this lake,

blood that tears fake.  

written by Tomás Roda

picture taken by Tomás Roda

Silêncio

silêncio,
o poeta chora,
a alma grita,
a chuva cai, fria e triste,

o Universo é grande,
mas o vazio que me preenche
é maior