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Murilo Porfírio

1995-07-28 Minas Gerais
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Some Poems

II-III In a Basement With Bertha Mason

Villain Gray is love, a memory steeped in pain,

a ghost from my past, again and again.

On that fateful day, I was deeply hurt,

troubled by issues, feelings overt.

Yet somehow it happens, things go astray,

they vanish like shadows, without delay.

Now, writing of love, a tender theme,

I find myself lost, in a recurring dream.

In moments of joy, still, a shadow takes hold,

a course through my soul, both brash and bold.

Safety eludes me, though I strive to find peace,

in the house of my mind, where struggles cease.

God grants me courage, through the dark to pave,

a path of bravery, my heart to save.

II-XI In a Basement With Bertha Mason


I glimpse the souls eternal in this town,

 

I meet their gaze, yet indifference holds us down.

 

Voting for the left, against the Nazi tide,

 

you know the future's path is one, we cannot hide.

 

So cease to lift me when I fall for love’s embrace,

 

you cast our fate to a cursed, unreal tomorrow’s space.

 

Existence isn’t forged for you and me,

 

I always warned, deceivers will deceive,

 

and as we're bound in love so true,

 

they're enamored with a world sans me and you.

 

Let’s escape this tainted city’s spite.

 

I painted us a home in shades so bright,

 

You can step close and dream us in that light,

 

for I can't paint the people right.
 

II-IX In a Basement With Bertha Mason

Oh my God, is it just me or does

Shangri-La finally show a favor divine to me?

Don’t be foolish, every time the heavens smile my way,

a brother is dragged to hell, astray.

I’m ensnared, longing to be free,

yet yearning still for life’s decree.

I’ve lived so little as I desire,

and much as I can, in fate’s cruel mire.

Privileges, countless, fortune, and grace,

yet I’ve lost my soul in another place,

another realm, a dreamer’s embrace.

So I suffer for me, for him,

for everything and nothing, on a whim.

Joy returns when cares diminish,

when the world consumes my time, my spirit replenished.

How futile to be useful to the world’s design?

How futile to be useful to oneself, confined?

How vast the pain of loss, the will to attack,

that leaves a soul in eternal longing’s track?

I feel all is crucial despite its vanity,

just as I fall prey to such great treachery,

I seek to change the world and destiny.

II-I In a Basement With Bertha Mason

In the shadow of a silent sin, a sense of discord grows within.

Long lost in a tale of old, in silence, my thoughts unfold.

Dreams are shaped by hands not mine, destined for him or the divine.

Evening prayers, a hope for peace, yet bring visions that never cease:

A world designed for you and me, yet from it, my soul yearns to be free.

I learned that kindness is my role, dreaming for others, a part of my soul.

Battles within, a constant fight, fade as I face my inner plight.

A common curse we all bear, my dreams shrouded in a common despair.

Life and death, themes I’d rather not ponder, seeking answers that within me wander.

II-II In a Basement With Bertha Mason

Our minds are open books to read, the Lord twists time with divine heed.

My pen has inked no joyful tune, merely shades of sorrow, under a waning moon.

Yet prayers ascend for our shared fate, while my own hours dissipate in the wait.

Gratitude swells for the breath, the fight, for moments shared in your sacred light.

Ghosts may haunt, searing thoughts within, scars may mark the battles we’re yet to win.

But life, it stretches beyond my silent pleas, vaster than visions the praying eye sees.

Each day it bears us on a tide so vast, in this grand design, I find peace at last.

II-VI In a Basement With Bertha Mason

I hungered, oh the plight, to need all near in sight.

Creativity fled, as art held sway in my head.

Upon these rented walls that bound,

I saw the words of Rumi sound:

“Lovers don’t finally meet somewhere, they’re in each other all along.”

I’m moved, yet filled with woe,

today’s the day we honor those who motherly affections bestow.

My own, alone, still dreams for me,

what luxury, to just survive this spree.

I tell her of my newfound goals, for old victories no longer console.

I seek horizons far and wide, to lessen the shallow tide inside.

Mother, love soars in my refrain,

the ache of distance, your silent pain echoes.

A kindred ache within me grows, akin to the man who claims he’s close.

II-VIII In a Basement With Bertha Mason


My joy has been a chosen grace,

 

sculpted by God, Her marks I trace.

 

What's the point of sacrifice for a future's hollow?

 

Told not to dwell in yesterdays we borrow.

 

What to do in a false tomorrow,

 

where truth hides what brings sorrow?

 

Is this real on Earth, or but my mind's conceit?

 

A captive of mortal plight, ambitions in retreat.

 

Moved to this world, my soul not endless,

 

repeating to all, my message relentless.

 

Is this misery? Now, Solomon and I share its weight,

 

I've wept like a man, writing follies innate.

 

Obsessed with conquests, yet vigor eludes,
 

caught in the chase, in disquietude.
 

II-VII In a Basement With Bertha Mason


Let your life go, seize your freedom’s gleam,

 

I can’t bear to watch them hurt, your heart so sweet.

 

No season right, the time just seems to flee,

 

from scorching heat to coldness, bleak and grim.

 

My dearest, love for you flows deep, extreme,

 

yet claims of passion’s fire might just deceive.

 

For in the summer’s blaze, I do not seethe,

 

I’m but a rose with thorns, and bloody seams.

 

Though roots have claimed the earth, where life does teem,

 

my heart still races, uncorrected beat.

 

It isn’t right, yet destiny I greet,

 

last night my soul found peace, yet turmoil streamed.

 

Oh darling, I long to dwell beneath the ground with you,

 

in silent company where love can be found anew.
 

II-X In a Basement With Bertha Mason

We’ve stumbled hard in this life’s dance,

You drowned me deep in credit’s trance,

And I wounded you with cautious stance.

A fresh beginning may be best,

I won’t await you or the rest.

I saw a phoenix rise, a mystic sight,

Its beauty grand, a pure delight,

Yet nothing changed with all its light.

North remains, a constant call,

This boy must find his way, after all.

The world bears witness to my wrong,

But comfort comes from faith’s strong song,

God sees what good you must prolong.

II-IV In a Basement With Bertha Mason

All the journals of science, priced beyond my breath,

 

are stored where fortunes tower, perhaps in Hong Kong’s wealth.

 

Opaque the process seems, yet cycles clear abide,

 

to publish and take pride, a never-ending tide.

 

Ask about their travels, how many have there been?

 

Living broad and wide, in randomness unseen.

 

For their victories are listed in public view, you see:

 

work and places, faces—demands to set aside my glee.

 

Yet this is science now, not as it was, or will be hence,

 

I pray recalling minds of genius, cloaked in magic’s dense.

 

They soared beyond the mundane, where fame and mystique blend,

 

in realms where wonder reigns, and mysteries never end.

II-III In a Basement With Bertha Mason

Villain Gray is love, a memory steeped in pain,

a ghost from my past, again and again.

On that fateful day, I was deeply hurt,

troubled by issues, feelings overt.

Yet somehow it happens, things go astray,

they vanish like shadows, without delay.

Now, writing of love, a tender theme,

I find myself lost, in a recurring dream.

In moments of joy, still, a shadow takes hold,

a course through my soul, both brash and bold.

Safety eludes me, though I strive to find peace,

in the house of my mind, where struggles cease.

God grants me courage, through the dark to pave,

a path of bravery, my heart to save.

II-XI In a Basement With Bertha Mason


I glimpse the souls eternal in this town,

 

I meet their gaze, yet indifference holds us down.

 

Voting for the left, against the Nazi tide,

 

you know the future's path is one, we cannot hide.

 

So cease to lift me when I fall for love’s embrace,

 

you cast our fate to a cursed, unreal tomorrow’s space.

 

Existence isn’t forged for you and me,

 

I always warned, deceivers will deceive,

 

and as we're bound in love so true,

 

they're enamored with a world sans me and you.

 

Let’s escape this tainted city’s spite.

 

I painted us a home in shades so bright,

 

You can step close and dream us in that light,

 

for I can't paint the people right.
 

II-IX In a Basement With Bertha Mason

Oh my God, is it just me or does

Shangri-La finally show a favor divine to me?

Don’t be foolish, every time the heavens smile my way,

a brother is dragged to hell, astray.

I’m ensnared, longing to be free,

yet yearning still for life’s decree.

I’ve lived so little as I desire,

and much as I can, in fate’s cruel mire.

Privileges, countless, fortune, and grace,

yet I’ve lost my soul in another place,

another realm, a dreamer’s embrace.

So I suffer for me, for him,

for everything and nothing, on a whim.

Joy returns when cares diminish,

when the world consumes my time, my spirit replenished.

How futile to be useful to the world’s design?

How futile to be useful to oneself, confined?

How vast the pain of loss, the will to attack,

that leaves a soul in eternal longing’s track?

I feel all is crucial despite its vanity,

just as I fall prey to such great treachery,

I seek to change the world and destiny.

II-I In a Basement With Bertha Mason

In the shadow of a silent sin, a sense of discord grows within.

Long lost in a tale of old, in silence, my thoughts unfold.

Dreams are shaped by hands not mine, destined for him or the divine.

Evening prayers, a hope for peace, yet bring visions that never cease:

A world designed for you and me, yet from it, my soul yearns to be free.

I learned that kindness is my role, dreaming for others, a part of my soul.

Battles within, a constant fight, fade as I face my inner plight.

A common curse we all bear, my dreams shrouded in a common despair.

Life and death, themes I’d rather not ponder, seeking answers that within me wander.

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