One more time to know me!

Touch me!

Dungeon

acho q a língua é deficiente... por mais que exista poesia,
acho q outros sensos (exteriores ao nosso interpretar, a hermeneutica)
são tão profundos, se não mais, que nossa própria imaginação...
acho q não há como definir-me em palavras (ou mais ninguém, por assim dizer)
somos todos pinturas e musicas e sabores... somos poesia e carne
somos perfume, silêncios
olhares
somos vontades digeridas

jamais expelidas
somos cada cabelo sobre o braço... um arrepio
somos horizontes e um grão de areia
somos mares de agua salina... somos sedentos
somos perdidos, consumidos, somos paixão, silenciosa, notívaga...
suspiros e sonhos nem sempre reais:
somos apneia...
me sinto carne muida
um ventilador de raios solares...

O amanhecer...

uma multidão de seguintes... seguidores
sou a fila do banco
me sinto em meio de mortos vivos
me sinto perdido em ilha de 1001 prazeres
me sinto só

Real

Quero ser real!
Algo tangível...
Mais um por do sol.
Um luar talvez?

Quero ser o horizonte, em imagem...


Quero sonhar de menos...
Quero ser marciano, longe daqui!

Quero amar de novo (para sempre)!!!
Doce sabor de paixão...

Quero ter outro dia de herói...
Como aquele de nossos sonhos!

Quero tingir mais que papel
(talvez o ar??)

Quero ser real...

Cotton

I am not a fool..
I am not the one who sees only the given truth...
I can't go on cheating my self..
Not at this point...

So now I have true joy...
Now I have those eyes to bring me around..
Like Amy, "I'm no good"...
So now I'm stuck, now I'm gravitating into you...

Into this bizzare truth.

I'm done...

I can't play like this anymore...
I want to love your every fiber...
I want to love your hair.

I want to give into Dutch skin,
I want a chance to show you a diferent path...
The path you have in you: the path of no lies...
I see moments spent with futile things, just like you have...
For so long...

I am just sick of going back.

I want to go forward.
I want your smile in my morning.
And in my night...

I want you all over this cotton covering my bed.

∞

Eu já amei o belo.
A mente distante,
a pele fumegante:
O beijo mais puro.

Eu já fiz parte da simetria.
Degustei lábios mediterrâneos.

Eu me joguei sobre o
deserto sem alguma garantia.
Perdi todo o tempo...
Tempo que não possuía.

Eu fiz o amor de fato.
Transformei desta dor, ímpeto:
Ato.

Now

There was I time for short love...
I had something in me, something beyond me..
I dreamed of clear, endless oceans,
I felt this strong lust for a new impossible love...

Now I can't dream anymore...
Now I want to spend endless days running around with you.
Now I just can't wait, I have to give you my sky!
Now I have to dance "I'm yours"...

Wolf's Perfume

There was a time of childish thoughts and lies...
There once was a moment of being my father's son.
Someone right in the middle between mother and brother...
Now I have this dangerous perfume of wolf,
in my Sheep's Old Prada.
Now I have my wine thrown above my head,
now I have my night.
My empty screen of chance...
My blinking cursor. My "other side".
My death number 101! My rebirth number 102!
My every-other-deep-smile.
My Champagne! My stupid morning after!
A fool's moon! A distant friend...

A drunk poet...

An everlasting run around on my keyboard.

A "last call!" before bed.

My beautiful vampire

Sweet dreams, beautiful little vampire of my heart, of my soul...
feel me inside, sucking your mind, touching your heart...
take my hand and be, free, whole, mine.

See me, your missing link, the moment of joy unknown,
the first second of the rest of your life, happy, complete,
in love with truth, with light from which we hide
in our endless nights of passion,
of "half-way" to the moon in an instant...

Be with me, forever, meet your lover,
of different colors and sounds, of perfume,
of wine, of music silent,
of clarity in our hearts...

So, my beautiful vampire,
drain me of my pain and make me whole,
for you are definitely the only one that can...
Kiss me now and feel love at your grasp, our grasp...
dive into my soul and find peace...
find the infinity we deserve...
Together as one,
as laughter,
as we are.

Self-Cleaning Glass

Let me dry up my every wish!
I have to undo these fluid dreams of mine!
Let me work out our every kink,
Re think our last moments!
Let me fight those dark times…

Let me rewrite the voice of my youth…

In this virtual world of mine,
All things happen, all life, is life…
Let me show you miracles of my will.
Let me exist in the planes of lost beauty.
Kiss the lips of recycled plastic!

Let me be weightless!

I do not want to be the infinite wonderful wonder!
I want to belong to this new world.
I want to end this insatiable need of things without meaning!
I want to be self-cleaning glass…
A distant mirage of subtle embraces in this stupid desert of the mindless!

Let me be free to open the floodgates of my compulsion!

Lost Friends...

One hopeless moment... One loop...

One chance to make all things earn a place...

One love, one smile... one "forever wish"...

One long lost friend reborn...

Horizon

Nothing better than knowing a true horizon...
Something as tangible as our dreams...

Nothing greater than a horizon:
The time necessary to understand the unseen..

Nothing beyond a wish and the unbreakable knowledge of the everlasting...

No other valuable, besides the sight of infinite landscapes...

Not a race, not a competition...
Just a love for the unknown...
Just the desire for the impossible tittle of being omniscient...

A martyr of will...
An ocean of pure wonder...
An endless potion of words...
A poet lost in semantics.

Raw love

Through my veins, through my thoughts, in my self.
Within my heart, inside my mind, embedded in my soul.
Drenched in my blood, filled by my genes, aware of me.

You are…

My queen, my love, my passion, my life.
My sex, my friend, my owner, my slave.
My woman, my girl, my beauty, my lady.

The one…

Filling me, devouring me, making me, destroying me.
Loving me, satisfying me, having me, being me.
Drinking me, liking me, kissing me.

You make me feel…

Inside you, your lips, your breast, your scent.
Your skin, your hair, your tonge, your love.
Your passion, your mind, your soul, your self.
Love, endless, true and pure…

Raw.

Me

I used to think of prophets and their lies...
I once was a beautiful little kid that dreamed of lies
and stories I had to tell my self...
I wanted to love you, I wanted a moment to lead the way...

... (To us, to what could be us)...

I wanted to tell the truth... I wanted to be still in that embrace...
I wanted not to have been a kid...
I wanted you in my time now... Without My past, without my "crazyness"...

I wanted you to know me...

41 & Sunsets

So now I'm left remembering ghosts,
in a sunset filled by 41...
Here is my mind, lonely and in bliss...

... My infinite day of your scent!

My metro stubs, dissolving in my wallet...
... Just like your face!
My heart, little by little, singing again...
My tears run dry.

Sober lover left behind...
Poet turned Monk!

Never again loved.
Never again lover.

Silently watching your draft from a far...

Never again son...


Just violins and a saxophone.

Dark Space

Let me pollute this place!
Since there is no where else I can shit on!

Let me yell and be stupid!
Let me love and spit all over this place!!

Let me fry, here, under this dark-space!

My vent...

My wonderful vent!

Let me look out there and see stars!
Let me dream and wish MORE!
Let me love these dumb thoughts of your perfume!

Wine Poured on White

I am jazz on paper, I am wine poured on white.
I am poet of nothingness…
Shining mind that sleeps, in the day light.
Angel of endless nights awake… Agony of knowing too much.

Be mine, beautiful woman of silence, and in me discover rain.
In me play and laugh… in me enlighten and disappear.
In me be whole.

Cristalino

Tive um tempo de verdades esquecidas...
Acreditei 100 vezes... Morri 100 vezes...
Sempre do lado do "que pode ser de belo"...

Um ser condenado: eu...
Sempre a cair pelo poço...
Unhas a perder, berros sem ouvidos...

Sou o que sou agora:
Belo calo do amor surdo...

Belo Poeta sem admiradoras...
Ressonante pelas lapides da paixão...
Cristalino.

My Empty Little Wonders

That's when I thought things would work:
Your face....

That's when I found my time machine:
My memories of your lips...

This is now my soul:
A wish...

This is me saying:

You were (and you are no doubt) my empty little wonders...

My half days of lonely dreams...
My Silent blue nights of endless passion...

My past thoughts into the deep red love I had!

Chapter 1 – Loneliness and Introspection: A guide to tearless weeping…

In little less then 4 weeks from D-day I found myself in Italy, on a mission to rescue the possibility of maintaining my family’s financial security… It was April 5th, and my beautiful Italian girl was at the airport hugging me… I was in a dream, everything was perfect, the memories I had forged as a child where being reconstructed, images I had in my mind suddenly changed… It was a dose of disillusion.
And so, embraced by the old, I fell into my self, searching for answers… It, never the less, was a time of love, joy… It was a honeymoon gone wrong. So, through wine, cigarettes, coffee, great restaurants, nights of passion, and more disillusions, I convinced myself that powerless I was from the begging, and being powerless was my fate.
My return was marked for the 25th of April, but in less then 2 weeks I had decided to stay indefinably.
So, in 4 weeks I had an apartment, and was living alone.
The greatest lesson I failed to learn immediately upon my father’s passing was that one cannot count on any person, regardless of their promises; It is futile, an illusion that once undone, deeply wounds.
So there I was, spending endless hours alone, in that apartment, in the middle of nowhere, waiting for brief moments of joy with my girl. I had thrown everything I had up in the air, my car, business, friends, family, home, college, etc… believing I had found the woman of my life. Ignorance is not bliss, ignorance is ignorance… There is no escaping it, there is no greater truth. Maybe, the wisdom that made my dad what he was, was what propelled him to do what he did… Which raises the question: is knowing too much a curse or did he find himself knowing that he was satisfied with the outcome of his life?
In this case, is death the culmination of one’s life or is it the simple end of it?
So, alone, in the cold, illuminated by the monitor of his computer, I spent dozens of nights thinking… apparently of nothing, for it was a time of much silence, and few conclusions…
3 Months passed from my departure and there I was, getting on a plane, broke, sad, betrayed… Angry.
The world was my enemy, life my torturer and love my executioner.
I got back home in parts… I was a broken man.
My love of Europe had lasted 13 years, based on the memories of a kid that no longer existed.
I had rediscovered my roots, and they had no earth to grow in. I understood that it was not a place, home I mean, but a state of spirit, of mind… They were simply the past.
I was lost, I was alone. I was a blinking cursor on a blank page.

(...)

_________________________________________________________

From My Book in-the-works

Somos

Uma continuação, um começo, uma verdade...
O equilíbrio dos pesos,
a gravidade entre energias,
e nós os seres da equação...
As possibilidades remotas da paixão,
o encontro de tudo que não pode ser...

Impossibilidades entre outras em um mundo impossível,
em um canto irreal,
em momentos de amor...
Banhado por sangue queimado,
de bombas e ódio,
de petróleo e champagne...

Nós podemos desaparecer,
virar um enigma da sociedade,
uma pergunta perdida nas calçadas da verdade,
um ser esquecido,
um amor real,
um sexo concluído,
um carinho sem dívidas...
Uma luva da mão divina,
o verdadeiro sim.

Vontade Absurda

Sinto doce perfume de labios-sorriso...
Reconheço em ti fibras de cabelo-paixão.
Algo alem do "sabor e ar - saborear".
Uma imagem do belo e da listra (cor) azul.

Um infeliz momento para passar batido...
... Sem te conhecer...

Vontade absurda de saber o gosto do teu luar...
Vontade absurda de ter uma mulher retentora
da beleza sem par...

Weathered heart

I guess I know you, so I throw my hands to the wind...

Years go by, now I wave at my self…

All I want is to reconize this weathered heart
of mine in your draft…

All I want is your perfume on the sidewalk…

My wish is...

My dream is...

Your skin covering my bed again...

Escuro Lilás

Mulher de escuro lilás!
Mulher de lindo olhar...
Quero pertencer ao perfume de noite desigual...
Noite sem par...

Quero conhecer teu sabor,
quero sentir o desmoronar
de mundo injustamente proporcional!
Quero beijar lábios sedentos!
Quero sentir doce aroma de seios banhados pelo luar...

Quero ver a escuridão de teus olhos...
Quero saber você, quero saber você...

Wonder

This is my work: pure silence.
These are my tears: simple and cold…
I am man of code and screen…
The android of all broken hearts.

A testimonial of tenderness in midst of chaos…
A man that cannot help but feel…
So, again, after so long, I retry…

Here comes one more attempt...
A desperate cry…
Never enough words, nor thoughts…
Just a buzzing silence…

This is my heart… this is my solitude:
… The absence of you…
A hole in my soul: sleeplessness.

So again, I find myself before this blinking cursor,
Again I am poet of fantasies…
A prisoner of semantics, of insufficient vocabulary…
I am a man, desperately searching for your scent,
In the darkness of my bed.

Just a broken half, a broken half…

And so I fight, and so I awake, everyday, and lie…
And, in your draft, I have become beautiful dreams of white snow.
True love, selfless and silent…
A memory of a kiss on your bare shoulder while you pretended to sleep…

…Locked in my arms…

Now I hunt down the dawn of my never ending night…

Now I search relentlessly for your love.

Now I know the wonder I once had...

Planador

Choro e penso, silencio de manhã chuvosa...
Sou homem de inúmeras palavras, amo em silencio
sonho de beijo sutil...

... Eu...

Não Paro, não ando: sou planador...

Quero e luto...
Digo sem falar...
Amo sem tocar...
Perco tempo...
Bebo, fumo, acordo sempre só...

Sou Poeta do obvio que ninguém vê...
Sou homem da noite, pois no dia não vivo...
Sou tesão na veia de mulher perdida...
Sou alegria e paixão...


Sou ser perdido, futuro reluzente, cego presente...
Sou objeto da sua procura:
Sou transparente...

Desprendimento

Sou ser do abandono...
Solidão de mundo desigual...
Tenho tanto dentro de mim,
Admiro tanto,
Sinto tanto.

Muito mais alem dos olhos vejo.
Cicatrizes de jovem órfão.
Sou ser de inúmeros sonhos...
Ambições sem fim.

Amo em silencio,
Sofro por traz do véu...
Realidade só minha...

Sou existência do impossível,
Poeta do monocromático.
Não tenho na alma necessidade de ser mal...
E assim tenho cruel mundo de solidão...

... assim tenho multidão de ausências...
Mundo repleto de ecos e admiração.

Vontade de dentro, de pertencer!
Vontade de dentro de rir para o vento,
De chorar pra chuva...

... Sempre meu segredo,
Sempre minha paz:
Essa vontade.

Então aqui deixo depoimento,
Feito em riscos (no papel ou no agir).
Deixo parte de meu âmbito “bitter-sweet”
na musica da dor...
... Do desprendimento...

Ink or Blood

There is something strange about feeling a blade on my bones…
Something wrong and warm…
That kind of pain we know of only in dreadful dreams, scary moments of dark nights…

So, now, no words, no whispers…
Not a deaf man, not blind…
I am a cute little dumpling: sweet and sour…
Man of boring stories… Man of endless words…

So I give my heart to this paper… unique and worthless…
A part of me unheard and unfelt…
… My dreams… My forever-wish…
The soul of me… Atheist and alone…

My felicity, my smile…
My last drop of passion…

… This ink coursing through my veins…



________________________
Photo by Bila

Panquequeiros

Tem vezes que quase acredito que sou uma panqueca, pois são tantos a me tentar...

Acho que sou talvez quieto demais!

Me enrrolam, me enchem de delicias....

Mas continuo lutando contra essa maré de relutancia, contra essas pessoas que acham que sou bobo.

Sou destituido de ilusões. Mas sou educado, doce... A pena é que perco tanto quanto esses panquequeiros, pois tento acreditar que posso ser parte de um todo maior, que posso doar belezas subterfugias.

Tambem creio que posso crescer com contos biograficos regurgitados sobre uma mesa de bar qualquer.

Por isso não desisto. Por isso continuo na esperança de que agua mole em pedra dura....

Stupid, stupid boy!

Friday The 13th

Friday, march 10th… My dad gave me the money to pay my college tuition…
Saturday, march 11th... Woke up at 2 in the afternoon, worked from 4 to 8 and got drunk with friends.
Sunday, march 12th... Woke up at 2 in the afternoon, went to work but didn’t work, talked about women and school, picked up some things in the supermarket, went home at 8PM for dinner with family.
Monday, march 13th, 2 AM. The phone rang, it was the police… “It appears that your father committed suicide”.
This is where my story truly begins, at the end.
The guilt of wasted time teaches much. In a moment such as the one I search words to describe, not much can be said, for, before it happens, is unimaginable, and after, indescribable.
I hung up the phone, there was lots of screaming in the house. My brother was sleeping, my mother was awake, we all ran out of the house, jumped in my car… I drove to the beach, half a mile away…
It’s a beautiful place, a fishing community… One of the oldest parts of town…
The water is calm and warm, the sand a bit thick… From here the view is breath taking… One can see all of downtown, the old bridge, mountains… at night, city lights, in the day, sailing boats encored, the sea…
This is a place of tourism, excellent restaurants, tranquility… a romantic place.
Dad was on his back, his shirt open…
He spent all night out thinking, by the pool, he seemed stressed about the treatment, as we thought, that he was supposed to start on Monday.
I was watching a DVD… He came in, made me pause it, asked me about the collateral effects of interferon in one’s body… Mom had given us a book to study a few months earlier, so to prepare us for the changes that were about to take place with our father… So, promptly, I listed: memory loss, confusion, hair loss, gastric-intestinal complications, impotence, general pains, anemia, etc… He stopped me, and asked: “Angel, how do you think I will be able to continue giving the life you are accustomed to without my job while on this drug?”
This was his reason, his message… I told him that we would find a way, told him to not worry…
He walked away, went upstairs to sleep, I presumed, grabbed his colt 38 and silently left the house…
At the beach the police awaited us, as if a TV show was about to start… He was all wet, his eyes closed and filled with blood, my mom fainted. I couldn’t get close at first, but then, for a second, I looked at his chest and it was moving, he was breathing! I ran and kneeled beside him, all that blood, I didn’t want to touch him, almost as if someone was holding me back… Yet, I was certain, even at less then 2 feet away, that his chest was really moving, I had to be sure it wasn’t a hallucination… I placed my hand above his mouth, it was wide open, filled with blood, his jaw had been dislocated from the impact of the shot, so I put my ear to his nose, nothing… Then it came to me: “his chest, touch it”… His skin was cold and rubbery, the sand under his head was crimson… Now I was sure… I wanted to kiss him… I can’t remember if I did…
Some how I didn’t cry right away… I walked around some, talked to the police, made a phone call to my aunt… It was like I was on auto-pilot.
2:45 AM. They had just covered the body… The van from the morgue arrived… he was taken away…
My mom was somewhat awake… My aunt, uncle and 2 cousins arrived right before 3…
I helped my aunt and cousin take my mom home, while my brother, uncle and other cousin went downtown to square things with the police and with the morgue.
The first thing I felt was pain… Allover my body, everything hurt, like I had been in a street fight alone against a dozen people… I could barely walk… The second thing was the complete lack of tiredness… It seemed like a dream, a nightmare without a feeling of danger.
Time stood still, the hours passed, the sun came up but it made no difference, like it didn’t exist… night, day, minutes, hours… all the same…
I don’t know if your life really flashes before your eyes when you die, but it certainly did that day before mine… I don’t know… Some new mechanism was created in me after that moment… It’s a constant thinking, it takes away your ability to sleep, eat… You just think endlessly…
Memories, imaginations, it’s like a movie, a very long movie, some of it real, some of it fiction…
I must have tried to save him a thousand times in my dreams the few nights I slept, always without success.
It was amazing to discover how many friends I had… In the early morning there were about 20 people at my house… It happened so fast, one phone call to a friend was enough, people gave me backrubs, made me stuff to eat, even laid down in bed with me and tried to help me sleep some… Everybody I knew was at the cemetery… In 17 hours he was under… Just like that… 57 years of life ended in a split second, and disappeared in 17 hours…

Stupid, Stupid Boy!

So sad the lack of truth..
The word that never comes through…
Something more then we are…
The desperate scream of fabel minds, trying to grasp the notion of eternal love…. Those insects, mindless of the path to follow…

What a damned existence, that of some human animals…
Victims of this centenial culture of ignorant prayer…
Gods of the stupid, of the “cheap soul”…

What is the stobbern side of me that says “I love this”?
What am I thinking?
Where did this uncondicionality come from??

How can I love this place as much as my sight of it’s crudness??
This rage I feel… The anger..

Where did “Me” go?
Why do I believe the words of the unknown?

Do I recreate something of an image of the stupid sircumstances in this crazy love I search?

Where am I wrong?

Where is the “magic word”?

Such a stupid boy…
Stupid, stupid boy!

Black Gold

I am the path to brightness, to the undeniable truth… The light that comes through, underneath the door, penetrating the windows of the self… the entrance of clarity, the soul of reason, which dominates my lost existence… lost by the wish of all that is fact… impossibilities amongst others in a world full of them… in moments where we see burning towns, children crying from the smoke, victims of our vote…

Close your eyes baby girl, and feel my lips devouring the essence that you embody! And becoming the scent you evoke… touching the secrets you know, knowing the dawn’s birth from the afternoon you create… kiss me and be happy, for this could be the summer of U.S!
The season of despair incalculable, of sadness filled by satisfaction, fulfillment undeniable and unknown… true sight… miraculously real… unforgettable.

Go home smiling for I’ll be forever, a line in the filaments of time, your time, our time…
… the hunter that we cannot escape from, the destroyer of hearts, the boogie man underneath our bed… our bed! Filled by roses of the becoming, of the beginning, of the birth of stars... that can be… more than my hand reaching out to the darkness of us… to the beginning of beautiful love unwilling… …gray skies that cover me in these seconds of your absence… moments of confusion, of “perdictiveness” “un-comprehentionalbe”… sorrowful pleasure!...

… Pleasure of existing with me and me existing with you…
We are “re-aspectatis” in ignorance of the sense… in darkness of colors… in the void of our mortal youth, before its end… early in the morning of life, slipping through the cracks of time renewed… by us… before we say goodbye…

… and return to the land of the free and the home of the brave… the blue passport that consumes the world and destroys Magdalene… you and I… and every one else…

We can be black gold and burning light, completeness in void… continuity…

Infinity
Alpha
Omega

…So here we are, standing in the end of the beginning of what could be us, no more,
definitely The light of the tunnel…
Made of champagne, tears of regret, either way,
of doing and not doing, kisses silent in the morning of the last sad day of our lips…
Screams sounding from a far, coming closer, tearing at my heart, eating my soul…
Blinding my hands, creating hope of belonging… to you…

… To the echo of your eyes, to the library of the ancient queen…
… To the flames that where and could be no more…

Some Truth

So we hope...
... The infamous “everything’s gonna be alright”!
Words we all live to hear… the defining moment of a life.
A sort of peace and selfless intuition…
... the undeniable sense of tranquil landscapes…


Something beautiful and indescribable…
… the beyond…
… the fear…
...The undeniable force I have in me…

The poet…
The man…

Son and father…
The beginning of endlessness…

Man of infinite words… black-hole sea…
Sea of what should’ve been said… Done…

Tasted and touched…

The ocean of will, of pain, of love unreturned…

… Of truth…

Queria ter dito a coisa certa na hora certa...

Queria não ligar.

Queria voltar à traz e ter meu silencio intacto...
Mas não tenho poderes pra tanto...
Não finjo conforme regras do comportamento social, estabelecido por la quem sei eu (duzentos bilhões de anos atrás, cego por acreditar de “ser o tal”).
Não sou o tal! Não faço de contas (nem faço contas)... Sou retirado quando quero, sou doente mental quando me é requisitado! Sou “morphosocial” (sei lá se existe isso na língua dos anciões romanos): Acredito que sou amável...

Tenho que retomar as rédeas da realidade: uma mentira é sempre maior que a outra. Sou parte ignorante em processo de evolução, e sou também prova final.

Não existe vitima! Não posso recorrer à justiça. Sou anão em atos e vontades... Sou gigante de alma!! Sofro, choro, sonho, admiro.
Tenho muito dentro desta pele, reclusa, opaca. Pele destituída de toda originalidade quando quer ser pacifica no meio de um externo apreensível.
Não pretendo nada do ego que carrego em silencio. Apenas gostaria de um amigo qualquer, para escutar, durante seção diária de secreção de cera, passando cotonete, feliz e surdo...
...“Orgasmico”...

Pior que sou bobo de acreditar no incondicional amor verdadeiro... Ainda não entendi que não sou meu pai (muito menos minha mãe)...
Tive durante minha vida exemplo de amor impossível em brasil estonteantemente político-sujo e redegloboeanamente nojento (pura inspiração, juro!)... O nosso carnaval da carne sem sal...
Novelas do “sempre o mais bonito vence a mais bonita”, “sempre o mais pobre, continua pobre, mas com o amor que sempre quis”.

Não sou partícipe do “pão e vinho”... Não caio nessa!

Sou o que sou: indignado! Puto da cara!

Obrigado.

Vivi uma mentira... Sábia loucura! Uma alucinação. Não era nada doque sou. Me torturou. Abalou todo senso de equilibrio. Me roubou paz que tanto custou para ter. Passou. Morreu. Passei pela ilusão e retornei à luz. Doce sensação que a tempos não sentia. Another one bites the dust. Um sorriso me vem.

Sou ser extra terreno, artista marciano... Tenho dever de insanidade, revoluções do ego e de compreenções... sou luva de jupteriano: Cabelo, pele, unhas encravadas, mentiras perfeitamente relatadas... Sou moldura de quadro jamais conhecido, ou publicado...
Sou indio da tribo pseudo-inteligivel: Os Indios Solitarios... Nunca antes pertencentes ao todo, filhos da selva de pedra... Sou relato de poluição, minha propria existencia torna impossivel qualquer incompreenção... Sou erro de gramatica, inspiração forçada... Sou verde, branco e tbm transparente.



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Photo by Bila

Revisando segundos de prazer. O reflexo da alma na neve intocável. Sabendo da impossível natureza de continuar ali, perante o vento gelado do lago, tocando a mão de sonho incerto, soube sentir meu peito em ritmo de “rave” - sedento por paixão.

Sonhos de Lugar longínquo... Perdi memória do presente. Lembro bem do sabor das pedras, das cores que surgiram na minha boca, ao sentir doce perfume dos Alpes. Sinto o frio dos dias de sol e vinho, no verão em latim. Saudades da dor de não poder ficar. Lindas mulheres de mármore. O céu e montanhas no lago. Um amor eterno na Itália.

When time came, I understood: solitude, in essence, is a moment, singular, although continuous, in which one embraces all he is.
A place where I can find myself, where nothing matters, nothing at all… It’s a moment of pure love, and pure hate… It’s the limit between fulfillment and utter despair… the best part of it all is that which, like a blanket, covers you, protects you, holds you, right before you fall asleep.
So, now, after shading my ego, after loosing all my pride, I find my self in peace with all the pain that runs in my veins: never before I understood that inheritance cannot possibly have an upside, other then the purpose of awakening the giant inside all of us.
Still, the path to follow continuos to be unseen… It’s just too far, and too bright… It blinds me.
I don’t think it possible to see the light at the end of the tunnel… In the midst of darkness, light obfuscates the sight.
Yet, it surely is inevitable to reach it… a tunnel has but two paths, and that from which I started collapsed under my father’s 38.



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Photo by Francy

Sou existência do impossível,

Poeta do monocromático.

Não tenho na alma necessidade de ser mal...

E assim tenho cruel mundo de solidão...