O corpo da música que ontem quis,
O poder das letras que hoje perdi,
Os versos perversos dos sexos injustos,
As letras daquela energia voraz,
Os móveis que cantaram aquela canção,
Os contos esquecidos, achados e perdidos,
A tinta que escreveu a melodia distante
A repentina razão que foi escolhida,
A apatia restringida, abusada e desistida,
De uma mão cansada de viver,
Palavras únicas que já existem,
Um paladar dolorido por querer,
A língua do artista cortada,
A mão do pintor arrebentada,
O pincel, a palavra - a lona, o papel.
A unica coisa deixada,
A unica veia viva.
Uma história que sempre terá
A maneira de comprovar,
A pura existência do artista,
que já morreu na página vista.
Alive within me is a seeker, a finder, a mover, a story-teller, a lover, a soul - lost to the known and found in the none. To describe such an entity is to reach through to the other side of a hidden wall. Blocked by eternity of knowledge, suffering and wonder - I sit. I wait patiently to be known. I roam to explore. I see to be. I smell to want. I touch to please. I listen to motions. I taste thy self. I am who I am. Be it as it may.
Wednesday, May 19, 2010
Seasons
Where are the smokey peaks
of such intense winters?
Where are the bears
not hidden in dreams?
Where is the chill
of doom and slumber?
The heat dispersed -
defied.
Where are the flowers
Children of great source?
Where is the warmth
of summer's splendor?
Lost in a nightmare
betrayed by her power.
Where is the breeze
of fishes dominions?
Where are the offspring
of mammal's milk?
Where is the whole
of loved nature?
Found in the bloom
of yesterday's play.
Summer is missing
Radiating complete,
Where is the soul of the missing sun?
Standing behind that cloud.
Rains pouring heat,
Smiles of tomorrow's promises.
of such intense winters?
Where are the bears
not hidden in dreams?
Where is the chill
of doom and slumber?
The heat dispersed -
defied.
Where are the flowers
Children of great source?
Where is the warmth
of summer's splendor?
Lost in a nightmare
betrayed by her power.
Where is the breeze
of fishes dominions?
Where are the offspring
of mammal's milk?
Where is the whole
of loved nature?
Found in the bloom
of yesterday's play.
Summer is missing
Radiating complete,
Where is the soul of the missing sun?
Standing behind that cloud.
Rains pouring heat,
Smiles of tomorrow's promises.
Wednesday, May 12, 2010
Rouge Wrist
Her hand is still warm from the words she wrote.
So warm - it even bleeds.
Strawberry blood down her wrist.
Red sometimes looks black in the heat.
So warm - it even bleeds.
Strawberry blood down her wrist.
Red sometimes looks black in the heat.
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