Poesia (21.4)

Às Suas Mãos

Acordo sensível,
Excitado,

Com o peso do mundo

Nas minhas costas

Descansadas.

Não te reconheço.
És aquilo que talvez

Tenha eu idealizado

Por muito,

Mas realmente lutado por

Raros tempos.

Nos conhecemos

Uma vez num sonho;

És o respingo de realidade

Que meu coração pede.

Que minhas mãos sabem,

E como sabem,

Achar o caminho

À tua perna.

Sinto tua calça jeans

Áspera contra meus dedos,

Teu braço envolve meu pescoço

Como um cachecol agasalha no frio.

Sentamos para conversar,

Ao redor não olhas;

Não nos preocupam.

Somos dois quaisquer

Sendo os mais importantes.

Teu rosto ainda não tem a forma

De rosto qualquer

Que tenha assentado em terra,

Serias meu coração?

Desejo?

Minha contínua vontade pelo novo?

Então teu beijo.

Boca pequena

Que se desenvolve sobre a minha;

Mãos ágeis

(Desconhecidas!)

Que desnudam meu rosto.

Quem és?

O que queres de mim

Nesse mundo de fantasias?

Não sabes quem sou?

Talvez nos conheçamos

De outros sonhos;

Então, 

Por favor,
Sinta-se em casa

Nos próximos.

Poesia (21.3)

Companionship

Enlarged life

Taken from my willingness

Unknown to friends and foes.

Encrypted feelings

Towards the ones

That are to believe

In my spited love.

Left alone I rest,

My bones

Delicate flour

Dusting the furniture

Of my home.

Home.

Composed by four walls

Made of books,

Gadgets that keep me

From the ice outside,

A floor of tears

And my bed of blood.

Home.

Where I am not to feel

Alone.

Found words

Of all kinds

That are so kind

To my soul.

Home.

Where my eyes

Mature

Into the redness

Of the sky.

Home.

Where my poetry cradles

And my loneliness fades

Amongst

Words.

Poesia (21.2)

Faithful Prayer

To encounter

The oldest friend:

Solitude.

Loneliness.

Plenitude in an act

Of selfishness,

The deepest desire

Of lull  

Over the dead silence.

Never wished I;

Dare I for such absolute

Deafness.

I eager to hear…

To listen

Most likely.

Feel,

From the tip of my heart

To the bottom of my fingers.

To feel such complex

Rash

That came to tatter

My veins

And sore

My throat.

Craving the depth,

Scratching the sand,

Alluring solitude;

I sleep

In faith

Of a better

Yesterday.

Poesia (21.1)

...But Nothing More

Along the road

My thoughts were being

Bravely

Raped.

Stolen material

From my guts.

Flowers,

Rings,

Bills of old money;

Belongings

That owned me

For so long.

The relief of nothingness…

Calm, tender place

In which I was able to discover

The most beautiful self;

My own.

In betweenesses

Found my dark creature

That could only do me

No harm.

Kissed it.

Loved it.

Made it my friend.

And nothing more

Could split

My true self

From it.

Poesia (21.0)

Navy Blue

Through my gloomy eyes

The clear and bright sky

Is seen.

Night it is.

No darkness upon the living being

That holds in his poor girly heart

The passions

Of the new age

World.

Caged

Was the boy

After long conversations

Between silent people.

Nonsense;

The young man

Was wearing navy blue

He was

Himself

The night,

The sky,

And all the living dreams,

He was himself

All you could ever imagine,

He was himself

Navy blue

And all colors

That the rainbow

Wasn’t able to cast.