Ships That Dare (prose)

One of the proses found in True-Ultra. Ships That Dare Yet, my skin does not bleed light once cut, my memory is not a sea filled with vessels hauling treasure, and I can’t see past sky-rim. Those ships—I see them set sail and pass, wreck and sink, cast onto fiery cascades, and I see myself in them, drowning and burning. I know how it ends; I’ve seen it before; Comes with day, engraved by ancient lore: They leave, and I stay. I stay in this mental illusion of a small port-village, where the sound of seagulls preludes the daylight, but distant and faintly echoed. Where the windows radiate with the blue-hue of gentle waves, and onlookers are statically sighting the sea, waiting endlessly for a ship that will never arrive, a day that will never come. These days held by the belly, broken and shattered in every street and any corner, are the simplest notes sang by those seagulls. The

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True-Ultra (english poetry)

Today, I e-published my first title and a wave of terror washed over me. I do not feel quite ready for it. I’m an admirer of so many, and I don’t feel worthy of having people purchase my book just yet. It’s just not something I feel okay with, due to my inexperience and general inadequacy. Still, I feel like I’ve created something special in this humble manuscript. Something worth reading, but not necessarily commercialising. As such, I will un-publish the book and open it to reading in this post, in PDF format, free-for-all. I will, however, also provide a donate button bellow, may you decide I’m worthy of such honour and trust (you decide the amount). What I receive will be used for the purposes previously mentioned – maintaining the website and eventually, a groovy poetry-chilling podcast. Thank you, and sorry. True Ultra – The Book

A “book” excerpt on hope.

A little while back (I seem to start all my posts with this phrase), I started writing a book of actual fiction, as in, not poetry, called Brass Towers. With less and less time on my hands, and still trying to finish the various projects of poetry I have ongoing, this one got a bit lost, but I still have some hope it might see light of day. Here goes a rough-cut excerpt that I like, considering I don’t have nearly as much experience with prose as I do with poetry:   (A reminder, this is a character in the work, and not actually me writing about myself, although… it’s probably both) As I lay my head against the bed-frame, I hope for better days. Some hope for those, others hope for better nights, and along those plaguing and exhausting hours of sleepless thought: we hope. As human misery goes, we hate hoping as much as we require it, since

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CRAZED PLAYHOUSE (english poetry)

I couple days ago, I thought to myself, what a wonderful world! And I wanted to write a decently happy composition to demonstrate that. Then it ended up like this, and I’m perpetually confused. I have a verse in portuguese that states “I’ve never written a single happy lyric / Perpetuated by silence of the other side.”, seems like I was clairvoyant of my own future there. Not-so-fun-fact: it was heavily inspired by my night-outs in Lisbon, that in almost seven years, never produced a single long-lasting bond. People are solitaires nowadays. JOHNNY

(Vault) ARPA DIOS

Today was a specially hard day, I carried pain with me. And sometimes, days are sad, and I don’t know why. I vaulted this composition a while ago, when I wrote it, I deemed it not good enough for sharing. Now, despite not being any better, it looks more heartfelt than ever. JOHNNY