Murilo Porfírio

Murilo Porfírio

b. 1995 BR BR

n. 1995-07-28, Minas Gerais

17,682 Views

II-XIII In a Basement With Bertha Mason


Countless times, oh, countless days,

 

here I stand, in sorrow's haze.

 

How many times has this pain led me here,

 

to pen my thoughts, so raw and clear?

 

Nearly all my works, both old and new,

 

are salted with tears for love of you.

 

You remain the love of my life,

 

the one I cherish, in joy and strife.

 

And though my heart will never cease to love you so,

 

without release, I fear the day might come to pass,

 

when love’s flame fades, alas, alas.

 

To me, it feels a lack of care,

 

though we live apart, we share

 

a distance deep within our minds.

 

I feel a fool for being kind,

 

but when you’re near, my heart finds peace,

 

and life with you feels sweet release.

 

But what curse is this that makes me care?

 

In a world of sorrow, where

 

some live in bliss, while others cry,

 

injustice reigns, and truth’s a lie.

 

How foolish am I to crave romance,

 

when my life’s full of privilege and chance.

 

Thank you, God, for all I own,

 

may I grow wise, and do not cast a stone.

 

Grateful for the blessings sent,

 

I will not hope for a love that’s meant.
 

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Poems

3

II-XIII In a Basement With Bertha Mason


Countless times, oh, countless days,

 

here I stand, in sorrow's haze.

 

How many times has this pain led me here,

 

to pen my thoughts, so raw and clear?

 

Nearly all my works, both old and new,

 

are salted with tears for love of you.

 

You remain the love of my life,

 

the one I cherish, in joy and strife.

 

And though my heart will never cease to love you so,

 

without release, I fear the day might come to pass,

 

when love’s flame fades, alas, alas.

 

To me, it feels a lack of care,

 

though we live apart, we share

 

a distance deep within our minds.

 

I feel a fool for being kind,

 

but when you’re near, my heart finds peace,

 

and life with you feels sweet release.

 

But what curse is this that makes me care?

 

In a world of sorrow, where

 

some live in bliss, while others cry,

 

injustice reigns, and truth’s a lie.

 

How foolish am I to crave romance,

 

when my life’s full of privilege and chance.

 

Thank you, God, for all I own,

 

may I grow wise, and do not cast a stone.

 

Grateful for the blessings sent,

 

I will not hope for a love that’s meant.
 

1,499

II-XII In a Basement With Bertha Mason

Could it ever be too late for me to forsake where I dwell?

Paradise shines bright, and spring’s beauty casts its spell.

Then summer arrives, not with the desert’s fierce heat,

but with splendid vistas, distractions complete.

Souls gather and cheer, believing light makes them whole,

feeding their minds, nourishing their soul.

Is the dream as it is because dreamers conceive?

Yet I dream of a paradise beneath, where pure spirits weave.

No matriarchs addicted to their endless sway,

chattering of trifles, claiming they hold sway again.

In summer’s embrace, I long to return to you,

to lose myself in a hallucination true.

In the frail shelter, fragile yet bold,

withstanding storms, and the soul’s tales untold.

In the endless night, I live stories anew,

grief once molded words, now cold night inspires too.

Sadness shaped my words for long,

Now it’s the night and chill that make my heart’s song.

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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.
 

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