Viagem noturna

Passaram-se dias
E os dias tornaram-se meses
Me drenava a atmosfera
Lá e aqui,
Mas ainda assim me havia disposição
Para contracenar uma ou duas cenas

Que tempo eram aqueles?
A luz de fora e o navio na janela
Faziam o cenário
O chá na chaleira
O óleo de coco
A brisa, os cigarros e nossas conversas mudas

Peguei minha passagem e fui embora
Fui te ver
Fui me encontrar

A janela afora me parecia cômica
E tive de me conter para não explodir.
Implosão,
Naquela exata direção

Caminho à frente
Caminho atrás.
Voltou com mais bagagem do que podes carregar

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Night trip

Days went by
And the days turned into months
That atmosphere was draining me entirely
Here and there
But still I had the motivation
To play a role or two

What the hell about that time?
The boat outside and those lights on the window
Making scene
The tea in the teapot
And all those oils
The breaze, the smokes
And our long silent conversations

Got my ticket and went off
Went to see you
Off to find myself

The windowpane outside was… extreme
Too much for me to hold
Had to get a grip for not to explode
Implosion,
In that exact direction
Forward and Backwards path

To come back with more than I could carry

calendário

hoje é terça-feira
espero pela sexta para aguardar a segunda,
começo o dia pensando na noite
e quando a noite cai eu lembro que preciso me desligar.

hoje é terça-feira e eu
conto os dias para junho
para olhar para trás com os olhos pesados
e sentir saudades de um tempo passado

mas por hoje,
eu penso na sexta-feira.

middle of the way

i sigh heavily with the slow passage of all of this
trying to make the hours minutes in my head
to sweep this coldness away.
i can’t really blame much anyone for the things that happens around
guess that those details that comes and goes are made from within you
or maybe not.

“Life is a game, boy. Life is a game that one plays according to the rules.”
“Yes, sir. I know it is. I know it.”
Game my ass. Some game. If you get on the side where all the hot-shots are, then it’s a game, all right — I’ll admit that. But if you get on the other side, where there aren’t any hot-shots, then what’s a game about it? Nothing. No game.”

so who call the shots?
the person beside you, inside the box
up above the law or yourself?
that would be slightly comfortable to believe that you are the victim of all of this
but
honestly i’d rather put my hand on fire
and burn myself to ashes than wear the victim coat.

so beat it Melody

brilho camuflado

é a magia e maldição que estão escondida nos detalhes. Sendo estes meio simples, bobos e até por vezes um tanto quanto complexo ou bem camuflados. Mas para olhos curiosos que estão sempre à procura, eles estão alí, pedindo para serem vistos. Digo constantemente para mim mesma que o resultado final não seria tão importante quanto o trajeto em si e que essa onda feroz que lhe derruba no chão deixando-te em pedaços, seria da mesma fonte de força que da-lhe estrutura para caminhar, correr ou até mesmo voar para bem longe […]

posso dizer com toda certeza do mundo que fazer o dia de amanhã ser diferente do de ontem não é tarefa fácil, quando estamos tão acostumados em viver em piloto automático que o toque se torna mais frio e as passagens menos prolongadas. São detalhes, curvaturas, cores e brilhos que tornam-se diferente ao passar do tempo. Mas isso já se é sabido. Ter a perícia de conjurar flôres no caminho pelo bel-prazer é uma destreza que eu admiro não apenas com os olhos fechados.

the width of an árvore

thousands os flames above and bellow
who could guess that it burns so slow
while the numbers are mixed and your attention is high
for all those who stands right beside
so i crash and the leaves that stands on my way
pretending that im reaching towards the bay
when i get very near i summon some strength
to cut through the edges to get there anyway

south to north in rhythmic beat
with the help of the sounds telling me too keep on sleep
going under and up to some hidden sight
while a pope on a lake tells me to hide
— listen carefully…
he timidly said; blocking me upfront standing on my way
— theres nothing else to see around here, you better go back!
or else its gonna be a harmful for thee.

if theres nothing to see theres nothing to fear

so i continued to walk along with the path
and for me surprise what i saw was a must
for the south to north that brought me here
to the amusement of my fate and trust
my empty hands were now full –
full of black small lights that i could barely see

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wooden flowers on the wall

softly speaking in those so well known sounds
no longer spoken around here,
to make the streets a little brighter
in your own personal sake
to walk around aimlessly targeting dead leaves
as an out-market trophy that no one can see

but that’s never the case

does it bleed when i touch here?
because it smells like departing
to take them out of the wall and then trow it again, to space
and there they go
and
for how long than a couple of minutes
counted backwards it remains still –
because after all,
they are just playing music for the deaf
that can slightly feel the vibration of the sounds
or the colours if you may

but that’s never the case
anyway

did you count the lights up above once again?
it ended up tragically.
oh no
comfortably well

c’mon get them gathered once again
for you to gently
and lovely
play

for

them.

shadow.jpg

um cenário colocado dentro de um sonho

na verdade, você não está e nunca esteve alí
e todos esses objetos que se enquadram no cenário
dão forma à essa fotografia em movimento lento e progressivo
que se formam em ondas que se movem somente dentro de você.

como eu queria dilacerar essa cortina que nos afasta em tempo e espaço
para abraçar-te e te dizer que tudo vai ficar bem,
mas não como uma forma de conforto-
mas sim, de forma certa e absoluta;
de que todas as pedras no caminho
foram compostas para vossa jornada não tomar “caminhos conturbados”
aqueles que nos aprisionam em um buraco aparentemente sem saída,
que a única janela de fuga seria um concerto breve
sendo esse não tão prolongado à queda e retorno

as nuvens nesse horizonte foram cronometradas para agora
nesse momento que sento aqui com a caneta e papel e te mando um “olá”!
para que você certamente entenda,
que todos os pontos e vírgulas tão quão fazem parte dessa história como um todo

home is where your heart lays

show me the way
where the traces of sunset that covers the highest above, had gone long before dawn
leaving me to wonder on this pitch-black dark path ’round

while the engine isn’t working
I collect pieces of ‘show me the way back’ and throw them down
with small cuts on the skin for making this good to remember
tis being told to the old men how to survive
solid mineral vessiche burning down my covers
to the sake of its own natured pleasure

walking and trembling ’til the gates of horizon starts to show
with little or no pressure of my own self
to keep on the go
while short sided versions of colluns
attacks you from your back
making you bent forwards but slowing straighten up
to move fast for this turmoil

looking up to the the prize

written in gold letters you can feel it
it is just the first step into your heart truly desires

walking in the air

take it, when it stays on the path
throw it away if it doesn’t serves you
move around
keep on trying
to jump to the moon
and find the treasure that was long long forgot
left to the birds that can’t remember where it was

and even when the papers says it wasn’t true
you have to go and find it by yourself
because if stays too long for search and find
and you really wana touch it;
your picture is going to be drawn by it’s side
mesmerising heavens and hell
with the winds whispering music
blowing the leaves goodbye
to open way for you to say
was it all worthwhile anyway?