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Pedro Costa Poem
My face tiled in rubbles
make my troubles visible,
result of my lamed fights,
became my life unfeasible.
Don't talk about my mojo,
if you don't like it,
it will chase you all the time,
if you don't stop it.
Child soldier Ishmael Beah,
who jumped to peace,
who let go the bullets,
to embrace world of man free.
Copyright © Pedro Costa | Year Posted 2011
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Pedro Costa Poem
Everybody got a Sophia in his life,
I just don't want loose strings,
Several forces gather and collides,
I must step back from these rings.
The story doesn't stop when it ends,
the contemplation will always be free,
in the rough land or thoughtful sky, [as a wayfaring stranger, ]
I'm going where it's going to be.
The cricket as the same size as infinity,
the plenitude towards the horizon,
whistling and fizzing coming from the sky,
It suddenly turns my skin wizen.
Copyright © Pedro Costa | Year Posted 2011
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Pedro Costa Poem
Maybe we're just pawns
in a chessboard of souls,
and He's just waiting
that we commit a foul.
Where's the second part,
for the guy who felt firstly,
innocence is beautiful,
when you don't see it clearly.
The evil can never reign
over the goodness of a saint,
unblemished almighty sovereignty,
every good person won't faint.
Copyright © Pedro Costa | Year Posted 2011
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Pedro Costa Poem
Can a tattoo leave a wake of suspicion
roving in my mind,
maybe I'm surrounded by phony people,
a deception of the human kind.
Wandering in rubbles of dreams,
after a long walk I sat,
the problem is not knowing
where I'm looking at.
When I look to the puddle,
imagery appears in the reflection,
and when I'm convinced that's reality,
I'm completely full of deception.
Copyright © Pedro Costa | Year Posted 2011
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