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.

Poesia (20.9)

Reaching My Guts

He stood up

So I could be helped;

Younger in life,

Sharp minded,

Hilarious

Summer boyish.

A chair

He moved

In order to reach

The missing piece

Of loose fabric.

The fear of falling

Came crossing

Both our minds.

Instinct.

Life made me an animal

After a while.

My left arm tenderly

Pressed

Against his belly,

Holding him

From a messy

Disastrous

Fall.

His breath.

Breathing rapidly

Into my face

Surrounded by

Frightening doubts,

Green lighting,

Eyes crossing fast,

Forced laughter…

And a body

Made of sin,

A mind made of depth,

And eyes that, even though

Met mine

Fewer times

Than I expected,

Expressed to me

What my mind

Had sinned a long way back.

Poesia (20.8)

O Leão no Amanhecer

No teu peito largo

Deitar meu cansaço,

Nos teus braços longos

Enterrar minhas lágrimas,

Nos teus pés firmes

Apoiar minhas dúvidas.

Poesia (20.7)

Shore

To start anew,

To rest my restless and only

Heart;

Wasted old friend

Who shouts her deception

Against my attentive mind.

My heart,

Who by herself,

Held my reckless shoulders,

Stubborn pieces of bone

That insisted on carrying

The weight of my sand castle.

To find shore,

To wash my face with shinny sand,

To wet my lips with salty water,

And to find home

By leaving this cold womb;

Never felt home here.

Never will.

That bosom was never mine

To rest onto.

To fight over my green immature blood

Over my space.

To rest.

To lay back.

To breathe the fresh air

That was cried for me

By someone else’s lungs.

To feed my soul

From the fishery

Of the tenderness of a complete stranger

That shall guard

My feminine

And lonesome

Heart.

To find shore.

To find shore in me.

To find shore within my bare hands.

To find shore regardless of myself.

To find shore on my closed eyed resemblance of my womb.

To disappear into myself for once

And not feel guilty about

My own pain.

Poesia (20.6)

Amigos Surdos

Nunca pensei

Que fosse calar,

Que fosse chegar o dia

Em que de minha boca

Sairia apenas

O sorriso contrário.

O dia em que eu cansaria

De ouvir minha voz,

Dantes tão doce,

Outrora tão desejada,

Hoje tão ríspida.

Minhas mãos trêmulas

Encontram copos de café

Perdidos pelo quarto

Com uma água suja encardida

Que um dia me deixara acordado.

Hoje sento inquieto

Naquele pesadelo

Que temos como transporte público

E continuo minha jornada.

Revoltado com uns,

Brigado com outros,

Amado por muitos,

Quero calar-me apenas;

Apenas.

Ficar quieto num canto

Onde possa ouvir minha respiração ofegante,

Onde eu possa ouvir minhas mãos batendo na parede,

Onde eu possa ver cores que não via antes,

Onde eu possa chorar tão alto mais tão alto

Que ninguém saberia de onde está vindo meu choro

E achariam que é uma briga na rua

Ou fogos de artifício em um bairro distante;

Um lugar onde eu possa sozinho

Ter todas as companhias do mundo,

Ser abraçado por mães que já tive,

Receber carinhos de avós que não conheci.

Nunca pensei que um dia

Eu fosse desejar coisas tão imaturas,

Pequenas coisas que eu hoje

Queria como água,

Como quem bebe as gotas

Que saem do chão amarelado,

Com o desespero dos que passam fome,

Fazendo alusões infantis a coisas que nunca senti

Ou pelas quais nunca passei.

Hoje;

Só hoje.

Eu queria poder calar.