Lament

 

The past is floating other rivers

Wreathed beneath the mask

Perhaps, an iron mask

Wrenched pieces of deception

Deviant prophet or unjust drama…

In a unexpected notice washed away like dirt

Then I felt like an empty soul

 

Images I have forgotten

Thou not to count unvalued lost

 

The past is floating other rivers

River of the dead!!!

Somente para ti -Jade da Rocha

Emptiness -Jade da Rocha

 

 

Our Universe -Jade da Rocha

 

Rest -Jade da Rocha

 

 

Why me! -Jade da Rocha

Suddenly after months in silence he decided to sail toward her land, it was low tide when he arrived.    Although he was very engaging and careful; to her was a flake approach –just an excuse for a clean cut, an insatiable journey of collectible moments. She could not know if were fake or real. In that moment he was like a squid that lives in most oceans but rarely seen. The taste of doubt was rushing through her veins with insufficient evidence to seal his fate. In a stranger way it seemed to become irrelevant to her and she followed her intuition giving herself entirely to this fantasy that she could have chosen to never be part of it.

I saw this woman heart bleeding, overflowing love. I could hear the echo of her weak voice deafening silence thought the ferocious venues of life. It was if I witnessed an unpleasant alienation of a crying soul genuinely crashing in a life’s corner.

Why me? Why I have to cross her path at this late hour of this harshly yet, cold night in Deer Valley, Utah?

I was hoping she was looking to the opposite side of the valley.

I recollected no one other than me noticing her hurt feelings. Everyone else was sporadically transpiring the adrenaline rush of a Bloody Mary, mingling around the Garden of Fire; the smell of burning coal fusing with the snow-covered mountain.

But what impressed me was that no one could see the fear in her eyes. No one could sense her undeniable sorrow. Nobody had ever seen her again, no one cares. Why have to be me interpreting her pain?

Why me?

Breach of life! –Jade da Rocha

In the greenroom the performer grieve in front of the mirror;

He is curling in fetal position,

He is in excruciating pain, miserable games

    disposable possessions. 

He is screaming in front of the fire, fervent impartial feelings

    profane, shameless ode.

The mind running like a fox tangled in a line cut of unnecessary ado

 to continuously build a fence; iron coated with rust corrosive remains

 of a pity, misunderstood soul searching for guidance.

Get up, look outside the fence.

Indeed, between Earth and Mercury; Venus reflect brilliancy

Brighten the river

Infusion to the perennial fragrant water lily

     Breach of life!

-Jade da Rocha