TheHamilton

He walked along the crumpled streets of a city that frowned a bit too much for his taste. “Come on,” he yelled into the night. “Scream a bit… or something.” As he walked, the stardust, either from the far distant sky or from the very near lampposts, sprinkled all around him, coloring his blackness with a layer of discrete sparkle that was only seen by some; perhaps by one in a thousand of the brightly lit windows. The moon squinted at him too, hiding its pale blue eyes when he bothered to raise his head and look back. The streets grew tighter and tighter, now almost seeming like a tiny tunnel that he had to push

Montezuma was always destined to become a warrior. It was obvious from the way he moved, the way he even laughed. When he got old, it was once sung by the young that: On the shore lay Montezuma With his coca leaves and pearls In his halls he often wondered With the secrets of the world The secrets of the world enshrouded him indeed for he was an evil child. You didn’t have to kill to be evil, and so he didn’t, but later he did. It may seem like an odd choice that I have sat down to even describe this man in a mask, but I am almost certain that it will be read. I have met Montezuma only once. I was at the roots of one of our

It was a hot spring day when the messenger finally reported back about Oliver Twist. “He’d be building a railroad,” they all said. “We’ll get to Manchester easier now,” they all said. We all sat in the shadow of the train stations roof. We’d sat there all afternoon, waiting for the shadows to settle, but here he was, the messenger, messing with our schedule. “Well then,” one of us remarked. “How far he be?” “He’s far indeed,” the messenger  said, catching his breath between syllables. “I caught a glimpse of him just a few arrow shots from Manchester

The Grateful Dead Among all the flowers, I noticed a rose. It was very uncommon for a flower garden to only sport one rose. I figured that all the others had died long time ago, but the truth, as I'm told by the gardener, is that no other rose ever existed. It grew in the middle of the garden, throwing thorns and other greens of its ever growing body. Even further out were tulips, lilies, different weeds, trees and everything else that you'd expect from a garden this size. It was all finely enclosed by a white fence, and not one leaf crept outside these boundaries. The gardener told me that he'd tried to touch the rose as a child, but he'd n

Play me a song, oh you wicked one about the epitaphs of fools. Speak through me the distance I need to go to cut the tools needed for the breaking lose of this heavy ball and chain. For I need not another time To lose when others gain To play a song that no one knows is the specialty of man. Describing why the oceans roam, and why the mermaids ran from the book of truth to the one of myth, taking with them their song. I do not need to read it in books to know where they belong Moving mountains and skipping stones happens when God, he plays. Rearranging all the clouds to banish the shade of grays He leaves although a little

Two doors will always be alike The only difference, if you say hello or goodbye

Shadow Living The code of the ice is melting Melting on the ice Living on boats in Venice Masquerading in disguise Playing with the curtain sheet Eating with the royals Shocking distances along the shore Planting in the soils Coiling together the bushes Ailing the assaults Breaking through the ancients And robbing all the vaults 'Cause if you mention liberty You better see the curse Waiting on the prophet train Praying for the worse Play now for the distant future And puppeteer the past Live beyond the shielded veil Or expect your very last

Icaros And that's the way the entirety of humanity was proven. It was at the crevice of an immeasurable hell that men stood, hiding behind the devil's mirror. The two first men were made from simple cloth, as these two were born on the Earth, and here they would die as well. The other two were never born; at least not separately, and yet, here they were; At the very same end as the other two.   There was, however, one commonality between the two pairs; one in each was blind. The Sun would like to convince people that it, in fact, is the sinner of blindness, but it often lies, as it is merely one of many stars. And now, the seeing one w

When the Wind Lies Dylan often walked that one promenade. The one that separated so many rivers from so many mountains. He would often look to both sides, but with a feeling of regret, as if he didn't like the actual sight in front of him; the way the promenade guided him. People tried to be him, tried to fill his shoes, and he would often wish they did. That way, he could rest on the side of the promenade, instead of treading the infinite walk towards that one unknown spot on the horizon. It was as if God himself stood there, waving welcomingly, but he knew better; it was easy to imitate God. He thought: 'If God and the devil changed places