A gesture

During the lost post of a drunkard night
The cost of fight, the plea of night!
Shut up! Assuming the lamps of futile struggle
With a dull skull of a deaden line.
Right as white isn't a color
Bright snow-white, pestilent breath of life!

Nightingale sings alone over the branch.
Three bones of diamond shining over all.
Overall there is an atmosphere of lethargy
When she first song a dead song
For nobody. No more. And went home alone, step by step
Fearing that animal which is man
Thinking about an escape and anxious wrath.
Never to be alone.

The train is full os scream and torn clothes. The driver drinks a bottle of water.
Brief period of poetry, the tear in the child's eye.
I am not a human born up to war, he said to his lovely friend
The words have no meaning, the explosion wasn't heard from there.
Anyone listening?
Hello?

...

Powerless and a full of sound engine of awe
Give the last past of a conscious day,
A bottle of wine, cigarettes, smoke,
It is nothin' but a joke!
Laugh until the ultimate passenger goes by
Fly tender to the realm of good-bye.
Motherless child.
Endless life.
Yes or no the words are buried in a crystal palace.
There hung upon the wall the figures of our ancestors
Criminals.
Thugs.
Assassins.
Poets.
Writers.
Painters.
And so on

I will see those never more. Ants crumbling lead-off reverie.
Blind into naked alleys, burning throuh shades of disdain.
Vomit a bunch of blood close to the avenue
Not a sould around the corner offered a pure bosom of kindness
Bless. Bless...
Blessed are those whose hearts are wooden solid mechanism
The flowers got anything desirable to comprehend.
Only water, grass, dirty sun

The lives of citizens evolve. A token of good will
A gesture of repetition. The truth in the kid's eyes and laugh
It pass like fury, like time, like manure and hatred kind.
Inside the new clothes, new brand smiles
A new form of shaking hands, of hugging
A kiss full of emptiness
Fulfill missing members of our bodies
Traveling minds
The lovers say good bye to never see each other again
They must produce products for their fathers.

Eat. Drink. Die. Life is good if not short
He realized "I am product to oneself."
A tempest falls over his head. A cricket made a chirp outside.
Produce or die?
Politeness is safe, where is the cab?

My mother is dead but I have the new technology I seeked for
More of the same, same shame anymore.
Lions raw. A cub eating its prey.
I told you to shut up.
To have or not to have
Is not an option
Option

C. H. Barbosa - A gesture