Plea

You insist on doing the same shit
no wonder it's so easy these days to see you
falling to your feet
If there's no life to be felt inside your sparkless little heart
be brave enough to tell them how you're falling apart
and stop pretending there is beauty in the tragedy you built so far
Tragedies are nothing but sad, after all
if you just choose to hide when you're about to fall

But then again, you can't tell what it is like
To know where you're going and fail to stray from the path
We can't glow in the dark
and you would just disappear
without traces of glory, and any light nowhere near
I fear you will leave unnoticed
and then later your brilliance discovered
when it's worth nothing to you anymore
and others would profit on your heritage
and nothing would ever be enough
to fill the space born when you were gone

You insist on doing the same shit
over and over
but try just once to lean on this shoulder
and quietly listen to my speech

Bodies on the Air (A Spaceship Tale)

there was a spaceship
full of anxious people in it
and they couldn't get out because of this man
cruel and unfair
which ruled the whole place
and listened to every conversation
watching for each dangerous tonation
and destroying their plans of escape without a trace

every time one would look out and wonder
how soft and sweet the air and the breeze would be
straight on the face
one would be detected as a weak point
and would then vanish
nowhere to be seen, no visible disgrace
as the cruel man would act in the shadows

but the sky held the spaceship steady and smooth
whispering to every passenger
messages of victory and love
waiting on their next move

once an accident occured
as small holes through the glass surfaced
and people started gathering around them, shocked and amazed
for having a glimpse of such temptating and forbidden freedom
but he wouldn't make it easy, and he wouldn't work no less
so the cruel man spreaded lies about the glass
and the supposedly poisoning nature of the wind coming from it
but they wouldn't believe it forever
and nothing would stop their attack
when the time arrived

every time the cruel man would look out, distracted
they would talk in the lowest voice
about how the clouds would soon grab their feeble bodies,
and the wind would swallow quickly their faces
until they had no other choice
and the plan was reaching perfection,
until ready for the execution

so the sky held the spaceship steady and smooth
whispering to every passenger
messages of victory and love
waiting on their next move

the first november night
was the day chosen for the final flight
as they started to surround the cruel man while he remained asleep
trusting his dreams of power and manipulation
but then started the fight, one would hold his neck very tight
and the other, enjoying the moment, would twist his head aside
so that, with a final breath of defeat
the cruel man had no longer his living pride

every time they looked at each other,
the eyes translated disbelief
and everybody, still astounded, started walking to the broken glass
ready as never before to make the final move and finish the quest
for forbidden freedom, heavenly and eternal
so the glass broke down
and the air rushed in
and the pressure rushed out
bodies on the air dancing alive,
among clouds of bewildering desire
young birds learning to take flight

as the sky held the spaceship steady and smooth
and welcoming every passenger on the move
teaching them how to breath,
as free as the air they fell through.

Twenty Pieces

I am empty of words tonight
for a girl who never got her own curls right where they belong
for a bird who can't seem to reach back its nest all night long
for a puzzle with twenty pieces missing but still fitting nicely
for a deep sadness disguised in pink outfits
for a pizza slice with not enough mustard and plenty of cheese
for a hidden treasure forgotten, amongst love letters and jewel pearls
for a hidden scared child, buried deep inside a man's years
for a lifetime of burdens swallowed and ever evolving fears
for a baby with deadly addictions and a pretty lack of will
for a fake so real that gets beyond fake
for an invitation finally received when it's too late
for a crazy snake in living colors, withdrawing from our eyes
for a nonsense that I offer as the friendly advice
for a moment ignored right before you suffer what was warned
for a treacherous return to old habits
for a thousand times wishing it was her who called
for a ship sinking its way deep into waves of rapids
for a boy writing pretentiousness into random words
and calling it "art" at the top of his lungs

For a stray cloud still looking for its storm,
I am empty of words tonight.

Stained Sky

Grey stained sky,
you'd remember as we walked by
the sun fighting clouds through isn't strong enough
Green brightly colored bushes as a symbol of my pride
and all the shame I've left behind
walking by your side has hardly ever been this rough
"What tree is that?", I'd say
what kind of fruit I would taste anyway
but you just laughed at my doubts and my face

And then I wished this church was crowded
and the roof suddenly crashed down on its own
so you and I would be alone
joined only by the holy authorities and the grey sky
I nearly died when you didn't tell me
about the pain you had to hide
from the spying clouds above

Such wish has never been told
how lemons secretly stop growing old
when you know the right way to take their juice away
and leave their feeble bodies free of guilt or fault
to fall softly and happy straight down
on the ground

Who would ever be as crazy and sad as to paint
his own house with such a crazy happy pink color
If we were walking down that road I'd maybe stop and stare
but truly, I don't care
though my deadlines are so damn near
and I'm still not worried,
any shade of fear within my grasp
but then am I to blame when the garden is still stainless
for my flawless lack of interest
if only I could reach the skies
and get rid of their grey hesitation
when I can't help but hesitate
if only the daylight would play me again
some jazzy piano and Spanish strings
a great performer such as the sun remains trapped amongst things
I don't know nothing of

It is fine but it is not
the harder I try, the lesser I manage to fix this plot

The Sparkling Day

The engine's running
but we're almost out of time for tonight's event
as she's looking outside, her reflection in the polished mirror
of a fancy car running through the crowded streets
as the hot blood rushing in her veins
and making her cheeks the cherriest red ever
Her lips... the scarlet redheaded ladies lost in a snow storm
But beneath her white dress a desire still warm
Pulses with constant hope for what's to come

I don't know what to say, or what message
to send through my eyes
but you'll figure it out by my surprise
when you enter the room
And I glaze at your presence so soon you'll be stricken out
Lost and losing control
But what snow? Summer's all over tonight's show

I don't know what to say, or what to show
I don't have ways to sparkle
Or this necklace in the neck they never really noticed

Nausea

Vituperative thinking
Wishes her head would spin
a hundred crazy loops
so she could spit out all that she has seen
and heard
felt
and been
Looking around
pieces of security and pieces of what
she always wanted to become
like beads of light, in her dark dreams
she's drawn to in the most intense ways
and tries to get to by any means possible

Spit it out
what they see in her
so they don't deserve to learn of her
learn of her truth
Her wounds are outside in, and theirs inside out
but still she asks it loud, what it's all about
the inner battling for social graces

Louder still is the intuition:
when drinking for the first time
a life so deep and fierce
that it turns out to be poisoning,
vomiting is the solution.

Salida

I will miss you dearly
Shortly after signing the papers
and riding the morning trains back home
As blurred and nitid faces cross my mind
and my head falls back
I am asleep before I know it better

Is it blood on the floor, or just dark ink?
Maybe some kind of deadly drink
your dizziness made you drop
I couldn't care less as I stroll past the crowd
dancing to the songs we both knew so well
You don't know me yet,
and you never will
For it is always too soon or too late
and my chances always few
But can't we always pretend it is easier
as I do actually think of myself to have evolved
past all this
I love the face you shake to the sad old beats tonight
You don't know me yet,
but such beauty is no stranger to my sight

Inviting old hunters to party along
it's becoming usual to sing that same song
There's no living up to the dreams and plans we all had before
maps drawn on floors that are filthy from our shoes
and can't be read anymore
So, who to follow?
Drawn to beauties foul and betraying
ashamed of such feeling
confidence pills never did me any harm
Show me some weakness behind your pretty look
let me touch your scars
and maybe softly stroke your white and smooth skin
I am already leaving before I know it better

Then realizing lost time is like waters flown
Too late it is now,
at least soon is not an option
though I've lived long enough,
I don't know me well
and I never will
Run to the exit door
and hope it isn't raining outside
not to trip on wet sidewalks from your repeated strides

Kitties on the Water

Kitties on my bed
messing up the whole scenery
Driving my sisters mad
when waking up it's all I see
Kitties on my neck
Squeezing it tightly until I'm out of breath
their tails shaking to the beat of the car keys
rattling outside
There's nothing I can do
there's nowhere I can hide
and there is never enough time

Kitties on the water
Blinking and laughing gladly at my face
as all that really matters is the sickness I embrace
The tragedies they insist to whisper in my ear
Yet to come, they make it all clear
As it boils, my fate on the water
The pain I forgot to believe in

"Meow", they growl
While I'm still trying to figure out
Still keeping myself from talking loud
so they won't hear me stray from the conversation
But they'll still blink and stare
and anytime I look
There's kitties everywhere

Where Doves Go By

In the way of the seasons, and in between the old ladies
comes a silent surprise, discreet
almost invisible to the distracted eye
but killer as a killing wave in distant islands
where doves go by
and pick their families up dry from the ground
birds of hope never ever to be found

Wintry

The morning freezes out of habit
and out of sight
Students and homeless people are left behind
in this journey towards some kind of light
or maybe a little darkness to hide within
who knows, anything can be true
if we don't know where the winds lead us to

Snow could fall from the sky anytime now
but we know it won't
not on this side of the globe
So we just wait patiently for the next freezing spree
skipping appointments underneath our coats and blankets
and failing life's tests and exams doesn't sound exactly warm
but what do we know about being free
at all

Looking up at a bright sky, searching for some lost moon
or some sweet heart-warming tune
but who knows, anything can be true
if we don't know where the winds lead us to

not on this side of the globe

Observer

So it'll be a lunch break, he says
It's nearly over now
I won't scream about it when it falls
We'll meet while he's in town, he says
As if it wasn't obvious
and I won't run until they come

Violence after violence
and violent hearbeats pounding inside the car
their eyes shining for glory, their ears an open scar
watch me if I'm going too far

A year ago, tea was much cheaper
Inspiration much deeper and family members outnumbered
all of this and that, parties scared
just lead to this clutter
But not today, not during this lunch break

Love after love,
screaming out in the streets, desperately
urban animals longing for it, killing for it
waiting for the day to be
as I'm walking into this bar
watch me if I'm going too far

Observers can be dangerous
or dangerously threatened, most of the time
but taking notes on the changes over a year
should be just as innocent as a lullaby
Singing stories not to crying babies or children,
but to souls left to die
unfed of news for a year
with no one to observe in the meanwhile

Drink after drink,
and stories still unsung
while patterns are found and faces are turned
This place stinks recognition, crowded with all kinds of flood
while I smoke distracted, inhaling deeply a fallen star

This smorgasbord full of vodka and blood
watch me if I'm going too far

How could this be even possible?

Days Off

Up until my lower lip
has enough time to heal
and I'm fully recovered
You'll still be far away
in your days off (I wish they were just bluff)
when something sweet reaches where it's hurt
it hurts more and more in a bonecrushing way
But as worth it as you will be, I'll remain patient
and wait
under our champagne cascade

Distraction

An otherwise gentle sound, like the opening of a door
Explodes the shit outta my head these days
I feel like getting ashtrays
smashed into my mind
and smoke curling from my eyes
There's no way to afford any more self-damaging
Encaged in some kind of light
and avoiding dark corners late at night
for naked fear of compromise
I seem to be engaged in some kind of fight
where everybody else's taking advantage of my victory
but myself

But oh well, isn't it delusional
the way animals have been fed fine
and the moon shines down with perfect angles at my sight
if only it didn't hide from me the woods
or the whole forest on fire
burning to its core
the way animals actually choke to the density
of my desire

A street still follows down the same path
and the clock walks the same lines every day
when I'm up early in the morning, almost in sync with everything
I just don't know what lines to say
neither which play I'm acting in
Tell me once again
there are rehearsals every night
for every wild life that insists to begin
no matter how late or how thin
the path insists to grow

But oh well, isn't it delusional
or it has always been fraudulently shown
the way animals have been fed fine
and a moon shines down with perfect angles at my sight
if only it didn't hide from me the woods
or the whole forest under snow
frozen to the bone
the way animals have become raw fossils
the ice age that trapped my heart
while i strayed, distracted
from the root of the issues
drowning from the start

My winter's performance, in the nearest theater
ignored and left aside
until my fauna screams out, louder and clearer
life slipping away
but lost ain't yet the fight.

Broken String

I make briefings out of ordinary days
just to cherish every broken string
and every pent-up, strung-out emotion
that insists to suppress this brain of mine

so I just wish I had more time
to sum things up and take out a conclusion
of my red velvet hat
if only I had enough ammunition
to blow away my fears
then anything would ever get near my wardrobe
and I'd be free and full of dope
asleep for a million years

so I just dream of a late meal
and I'm still looking for death's phone number
maybe this time we'll make a deal
if she agrees to spend some misplaced vacation out in the woods
my money's short, but I know I could still
buy us some goods
and have a pretty fun time
no drugs or rain checks
only our squirrel friends in line

then I'd pretend to play your warm guitar
as well as mrs. DiFranco ever dreamed of
but death has killer memory to realize, so far
I can't recall the lyrics to your favorite song
so I'll just leave this camp of loneliness
and ride the wind back to my bed
still don't you tell me I'm a mess
just because I'm sad
in the end, home is what I always had

And I still make briefings of situations insane
shooting at the sky and hoping to murder a star
as long as I can't break any string
out of your warm guitar.

Short Trip

inhale
you
i do
oxygen
in my brain
true
is the dizzy way I feel
and for the seconds
the smoke still hangs
in the midst of us
i need you, for now
and for as long as it ever costs
breathing in
breathing out

Discreet

The sky is rusty yellow,
shining down a city of stray cats
Lost in the mess of a crowded main street
Escaping the frenzy of marching feet
toward the final purpose of freedom
and the daisies blooming discreet
on the way

Voices of the underworld scream out and aloud
As with each shout, a lost kitty would leap frightened
and grey the lights were becoming, at last
The crowd won't look back, there's still more to be earned
for enlightened is the path of today's parade

Kitties in disgrace won't seem to care,
if they ever reach their victory
as long as tails are still safe and shaking
to the distant sunset the sky above, yet
Night becomes the welcomer of causes lost
and cats unfed.

Swimming Pool

Trying to make useful out of useless,
to make time out of time
But time doesn't have children, not enough fertility these days
Out of strength and out of grace
And the weaponry is not enough to win such fight
A cherry bomb in your head, wind curl from the west
Blowing out your mind

Is there any way to shut this down
Turn the battle around for you to stop being stubborn
There's nothing charming about planning your own funeral place
Choosing the grass over your grave
As if you'd die anytime soon
Building your paths to escape my arrival
The underwater roads leaking underneath my pool of treasures hidden
and we'd be still jumping in, if it weren't for your greeting
Like goldfish down the sink

One of a Kind

Will I still have the odds on my side
when trying to reach the brilliance of this language
just by crafting my thoughts as if they were unique
when my feeling is not nearly one of a kind?
Hiding your sources won't work forever
and you shouldn't cover your roots
if your tree still means to grow
Dispel this drama off of me
and leave it all to the clarity of what really is
Could it be the best move in order to
preserve the existence of the tree?

When all you want is your garden surrounded
not only by the natural guests, but the amazement of intruders allowed

and still, the more you try to show,
the more you find yourself shrouded
struggling to find a way out
This maze of ideas broken and mistaken
the silence outspoken
your self-confidence shaking
to the softest of sounds
but not so soft, you see
or you'd having nothing to worry about
The poetry in one's eyes is the poetry in one's mind
but what if it's reflected by one wearing glasses
or faking thoughts just for the glow they insist to show
intense enough to blind the distracted eye
Faking usual feelings for the shining glory of the unusual
when a feeling is clearly not one of a kind

Each Time

And each time, less people would invite him
Greet him, compliment him
He would slip into someone else's pocket to be forgotten
and rotten
and then thrown away with the laundry
Less interesting each time
More dramatic and the wine
Isn't tasty anymore
As he thinks of the old days
Nostalgia, as always, sore and bold
The story is different each time it's told
Depending on the person and the weather
If it isn't cold, warmer memories are sold
With smart words everytime
And each time, the melody gets more intricate
for beauty lies therein,
the complexity of an intense heart
Flaming as a rocket,
beating forgotten into someone else's pocket
Rotting for lack of company
Yet, for itself trying not to feel sorry
Each time

Misaligned

For the spectacular escape that was being planned
Senses had to be aligned in complete misalignment
The stage of things disagreeing, sound against vision
Moon against sun
So that light would become dawn,
and daylight would leave never to return
At least for tonight

And though it remains a surrender
Without a single trace of any fight
And if anyone might still return to their birth selves
Changes will have taken place already
At the speed of light, sound
and as fast as ears can hear
the silent explosion from senses blown apart

Mass destruction deconstruction
And emotion pouring out
through eyes, ears and mouth
Imploding away without a single trace
of any fight
But with plenty of fright to show
Until finally giving up
is too late to choose in a row
of options to run for
Drip by drip,
the moon melts from every mouth in the room
burning like fire when touching the floor
Setting fire to it all

It's blown, after all
For the spectacular escape that was being planned
The stage of things disagreeing, sound against vision
Moon against sun
Death against life
and life against fun.

Fridge Message

Wait for me, dressed and ready
Steady lying, insistently trying
Before I arrive, make sure
you're ready to go
Keep away from the bathroom
and don't become the gargoyle
spitting out frustrations and desires while sitting
on the windowsill
I may not know or understand the way you feel
but I love you still
and I don't want you to get me wrong

If I could build you a song
A symphony of mistakes
The paths not to be taken
in every single note
Even when I'm away,
keep safe and strong
so when I arrive
I just want you to be home

With love, so long

The Slightest

The slightest chance of things working out
was enough for her to jump from her bed
Enthusiastically getting up and having things done
Pillows set, and on the shelf books she never read
Just for the slightest chance of being fulfilled
Like the glass of milk from the morning after
but not as white or as cold
Something like the children playing outside,
but not seeking for what to hide
Just surfacing what is hidden instead.
Perfectly fitting, the glass of milk on the shelf
by the books never read out loud
Enough for her to jump from her bed,
and to happily agree things are right,
working out.

Night Bug

And you will haunt me for some time
A little flying bug in the night, feeding on
the light of my scared eyes
Scared of knowledge, scared of control
and just as afraid of anything you still have to show
Another trick from under your wings

Soaring through my room
your mirror eyes don't care for my face
for the traces the years left all over it, sparse
And the way you shake your wings
tells me you're still wired
back to the roots you can't deny
You're not tired or shy
of being hidden by the shades from my sight

Now stop before you perform such dangerous landing
and think about the ways you've been bending,
getting away with all your flaming speeches
Still, with trembling wings,
you're structure and meat
My skin is the lavish white warning
reaching to your humanity

Trembling wings bleeding under my hand
A killing slap, one of a kind
your hidden cards leaking through soaked sleeves
the signs you ignore now smash your pride
Green you are, for green your blood will shine

And you will haunt me for some time

Disguised

It was just my last costume
The one I'd use for the very last time
to fit in every story I made up,
every adventure I'd ever try
Times those were when we all had thoughts
about how happiness grows out of bad fortune
It was just my last costume

It was just the last time
As minorities wouldn't ever rebel again
The soldiers are ready for repression to begin
and I keep my head low
Waiting for my turn, no one by my side
holding hands with invisible friends of mine
I was waiting for my time

Reduce your fears to stone, little rocks along a wooden path
They will still hurt you, you'll learn the same
and there's nothing to cry about or object
when you're just about to break the strain
It was just a sucession of cheers
and ideas that won't move on
Sigh
There's no waiting, there's no time

Time is now, bring forth your closure
Conclude it all you started with before
Now where's the giant lying on?

It was just my last costume

Window

Better times will come
With the shining, renewing newcomer sun
On us to shed some light
For in the land of confusion and angry stillness,
we're nothing more than neophytes
Reaching for the confidence once heard
but rarely worn or seen revived

"Either this or that", we're asked to believe
Watching moon after moon, late nights from the square window
On ancient hope of mercy and humanity
we're left to feed
though oppression still follows passion ridden

Through blood, belief
or the tone of our faces
a legion still piercing with hatred
as clothes and strips of flesh we still wear get stained
Eyelashes faded to the sunset

From the land of confusion, angry cries soar alone
Watching moon after moon, late nights
From the square window
Better times will come

The Meal

Suits reflected on my glasses
Who are they, people I can't see through
Handing me dinner, smiling every five minutes
As if it would keep us
from being pale or crude
I forgot to bring my masks
Is it the same watchword once again
"to the winner, the scraps"

"I don't care", eyes whispering to mine
On the table, sweet pastry from my dreams
watches silently
As our killing begins

The scraps, the winners, the sugar
it's all nothing but untasteful, bitter speech
if it were for my own eyes
I'd be light years out of reach
So, through time it shone
and as tears try to rampage out stretched eyelids
the fright to realize
understanding is long gone

So long, everyone
This average person finally leaves
I miss you here, swiftly brushing my hair
and think of the sheet music left behind your shade
Is it only fair that it was never played?

To still live under that almostness
and the failure to conceive
are the average conditions absorbed with the drink
I took from the suits watching my hands, or even so
As if it would keep me
from being great or mute
Poisoned, there's a long way to go

Sweet autumn sunlight, sweet pastry, plenty of space in the room
and you in my head, still playing that tune

Mechanical

Engines clacking
Time reducing
The machinery is coming to life
Love is bringing out the humanly glow
The light
that struggles to be shown through it all
Iron mechanical cry

Click clack the machine
Time is over
Oil receiving
Fuel is pumping through the veins
The machinery is coming to life
No desperation or change, but only love
was ever enough for it to ignite.

Harvest

A bag of bones and flesh had never been
that expensive
As I can write from the point of view of a dirty body
but polished soul
Self-deprecation had yet to be this massive
but I don't hold no doubts about where to go

The place is certain and unclear to anyone else but me
Bright shining bone structure, jewelry
I want to inherit your eyes
As long as I can grow this flower of delights
in the back of my apple tree

Archeologist of accomplishments
You work your way uphill
I love how you make me feel this young and smart
The sky spitting above our heads, but it doesn't matter
As long as you're still and safe in my heart

My point of view always the cleanest
My bones the treasure I'd like to be
As long as I can hide and harvest us both,
in the back of my apple tree

My silent backyard, strong and confident
for every bystander to see.

Colorblind

There are the bits of photography she captured
All over her rusty years
Small dots of light spawned over a galaxy of dark blue
Universes unexplored caught through the lens
she captured through

Back into that same bedroom,
still healthy and lively
Still in tune
A little girl wrapped in skirts and blouses
Before the morning rises,
stuck between dots of light
and wonders what is true

Impossible to watch her dancing now
and not feeling mesmerized
but just as hard to hear her stomach growl
or the sickness in her eyes
"Beauty is sick", they'd wonder indeed
the crowd drawing nigh
Watching through flashes of glowing stare
the silent rapture
While captured were the oceans of stars colorblind

Through the lens in heart
The beauty, the sickness, the pitch-black sky
and the dots of light
are still the focus of uneasy alibi
Where were we the other night?

Scrapped

Walk down this way,
her street of desires scrapped
and thrown out the window
Recycling it all won't do very much
when everything she looks for is shiny and new
Try to jump the holes
along the way
before she concludes you're finally screwed

She pushes you to the tiniest edges
and raises your eyebrows high
just before blowing you completely out of sight

Is it a mademoiselle
A frau or a lady?
You'll find out until midnight
Average danger awaits in the car
And if lost ain't yet the fight
no car or plane will ever take you so far

She writes with hot blood
your name on her dress
But not so fast, when finding hers is a dirty,
harsh little heart
Soaked in mud
still to be understood
Your life like a movie in your eyes
she'll keep on pushing,
but as hard as you try
it's impossible to move.

Yet, her street of scrapped desires
and blown-out smokey fires
still leads up to your room.

Stream

Sinking ideas into words into puddles of thought
Bathe me
Drowning ideas into months of growth

And performing dangerous surgeries on teddy bears'
heads
Paper Christmas little creatures
Wear me

I love the way she wears those dresses and teases my deepest
instinct
with those eyes becoming cases for wondrous spiralling vocabulary
Words all around, words
The vocabulary of my dreams
Just don't dress in mint
The way it always is
The way it's always been

Stream of consciousness does not sound like this bullshit
Sinking ideas into puddles of thought

Your Handwriting

Even in between a thousand different
letters and notes
Your handwriting I'd recognize
As I'd do in between a thousand different people
With a thousand different looks
The shining jewel in your eyes

Hold me close, as years before you did
"My little darling", as you'd gently call me
Say
Let me feel you close again

Still here in the wardrobe lay the pieces of you
Fragments of your smell and fragments of your smile
And as I absorb you once again, it appears so true
Again, to me
You're around for a while
Again, to me, we're no longer in denial

Hold me close, as years before you did
"My little darling", kiss me on the cheek
Say
You'll whisper goodbye before you leave

The bruises burn bright all over my skin
And no longer I have you to heal
But the memory that insists to shout through the brim
Shows me I'm mature enough to steal the pain away
With everything we learned together
I wish I only managed to make you stay

Hold me close
As years before you did
But no, you're turning grey
Lost to memories of lively days
And though I feel you close, anytime
I'll help you to fly away

Watching the sky through the window of the kitchen
Whining again over your handwriting

Fireworks

The lights are down, honey
But she always had fire upon her sleeve
Like fireworks your skies have never seen

Before the party's stated
In his eyes, so crystal clear
What he wishes in her nature
Powder-free

The lights are down, honey
But sparkling fuelled desire
in the dark
Tends not to disappear.

Fly

If I just wait here, will it be
Soon enough or too late for the stream
of memories to run from me?

The massacre, red spots in the snow
It's not my business

If I just wait here, will it be too late
Until I'm out in the cold streets
Lights bringing me to them as if I'm a weakened fly
Still warm somewhere lay my sheets
If I just wait here, will I get to the gate

The blessings, disguised in sweetened speeches
It's not my business

I'll wait here, until it is too late
This natural pastry landscape
It's only ice to my eyes
And now I realize what it has always meant
Warm inside, the bed still soft
My time all spent on the shades

I'll wait.

Lucy III

How well do you try it
Daily, weekly, monthly
Frequently deny it
The absence of your tries
Translucent, so lucid
Lucy you are
the greatest crush of them all

Confide me how well
You locked my sea into a shell
And hid it into your pocket of demises
Just so you know, I memorized the row
Of your dresses and disguises
Let me watch how well
You cast such brilliant spell
To keep your prelude and blow the finale
Translucent, so lucid
Lucy you are
the bay in which I chose to drown

Heard you're out of town
Why do you keep running away
I can't seem to know how
To keep on living this game

There was your suffering as well
You lost your way out
Of the personal hell
built for only yourself
Don't you think I remember?

Translucent, so lucid
Perspicuously running
Lucy

Pearl

This pearl buried in me
Is mine and only mine
Inside it spins my blood
and within it lay little pieces of my own spine
Not even your monstruous ego can even try
To get near it
Or even steal it from the nest
Where it's safe and fine

This pearl buried in me
Many tried to get to it
But none ever had any success
Not even with all the rest and sleep in the world
I assure you, reach it you will not
For it is mine and only mine
As the rivers of blood through my own veins
and the little pieces that built up
my own spine

I'll scream it out
Loud and clear
As big as you want to be
You'll never reach it
You'll never reach it

And if this jewel receives any praise
It is my praise and only mine
The fire you try to show
It won't last any time
Without my sparkling pearl
Only mine
So there's no need in trying
To possess what can't be reached
But still you try and try
Keep practicing the game of insist

Until I scream it out
My sounds loud and clear
As big as you want to be
It will be high up in the sky,
for all to see
You'll never reach it
You'll never reach it

Never tired, I'll never sleep
My only pearl I'll forever keep
You'll never reach it

This jewel sown in me
Mine and only mine
no matter how brightly colored it can shine
As the hot red blood running
throughout my veins
And each bony part
of this solid spine.

Doméstica

No Brasil, a cada 15 segundos, uma mulher sofre violência doméstica
Brasil, a cada 15 segundos, uma mulher sofre violência doméstica
A cada 15 segundos, uma mulher sofre violência doméstica
Cada 15 segundos, uma mulher sofre violência doméstica
15 segundos, uma mulher sofre violência doméstica
Segundos, uma mulher sofre violência doméstica
Uma mulher sofre violência doméstica
Mulher sofre violência doméstica
Sofre violência doméstica
Violência doméstica
Doméstica

Francisco Bresolin

Shore

She once teached him how
even the troubled and endangered
are able to love freely and healthfully
Though every time around
he still feels threatened by the creatures
of his longest dreams
Creatures of the sea

When asked about the veracity
of the rumors he found himself in
He sighed just to think
what else was there to do
but to hide away?
And pillows full of trust and dismay

I want you just near
As if we're about to merge into
A whole new picture
I want not to fear
Any of this love around me
To catch the wave as it turns
and ride each of the seven seas

Her bag layed on the nearest table
So he ran to steal it from the one
who stole his heart first
Years later they'd talk about
the logic of it all:
who was it the one to start the mess?

To be the one watching
To feel so icy
The chill of the fall

I want it all clear
To smell you just near
And finally watch it through the fog
Closer as never before
Let me know you in and out
Our bodies together on the ground
Reaching to a distant shore

And I'd drink you out until
We're only love
Troubled, endangered
and eternal.

Mischievously

When you knock on the door,
Don't warn me.
To be taken away from my foolish desires
is just what I aim for.
I am ashamed moments before
you enter me and the room around us
But still you water the way for me to slip in
This chaos of both our worlds
colliding.

Working silently, you keep on acting
Just like the mute wind through us blowing
Ending up mischievously behind my back
Chasing in me
The rare that you lack

Keep saying you know my talk,
you've rehearsed the way I walk
into your room
It's useless for sure
With the glow in your eyes diffusing
euphoria throughout
Knowing how swiftly I can do well
without you
Piece together your own poison
If only drunken with it you feel free
Charmed enough to take damage forgetting how sick

Working silently, you keep on acting
Just like the mute wind through us blowing
Ending up mischievously behind my back
Chasing in me
The rare that you lack

You plan an explosion
To blow away the only remaining scar
Knowing the meaninglessness, when having won it
from the start
Ever since you were asked to stay.

In and Out

The only thing that ever differed
the tasteful from the bitter
the stronger from the feebler
Was the flaming essence within
the surviving substance
The one to commence once
the willing itself subsides

Trying not to fight
Would it ever be that fair?
Not enough to suppress the shout
Of sides to decide
coming out

Will you hold it enough
To keep it in
Strong enough not to feel
Expectations underrun
The feeling you waited
To become something real

The feelings you're holding and trying to keep in
You're coming
The people you love and your efforts to keep from showing out
You're coming

In & out, from the inside, you are born
The everlasting storm, always burning
You have finally begun

From the start never to return.

Chariot

Is it something with the clothes or the look in his eyes
Does it frighten you in any way
Try to get closer, try to be still
Try to stay and try to feel
The wheels are running down this street
Dust past sighs

The driver looks sad, but you don't know about that
The way you feel isn't right
His frightening eyes looking to your left
Does your arrogance make you any bad
to win such silent fight?

Watch as the chariot rides the wind
and flies by.

In the Green

Life has moved on
But you're still jumping on the lawn
Sometimes it feels like dancing
Primitively seducing
the creatures of the garden
Would they reach out to the flowers
Or to your hardly hidden burden?

It takes the hundreds of stings through
Your soft white skin
To take the pain within
But lately you've been
weirdly feeling fine

Sleepy sleepy little dog
Scream it woofing in my ear:
Is it our future to grow old and full of fear?
Their experiments on us work no more
What were the flowers really for

Dee dee little bee
Come flying from the streets
And kiss me in the mouth with love and greed
So scarlet I'd be for every tree to see
Your poison searching for the blood in me to feed

It takes the bunches of insects
Holding you down from near
The ones like you who actually succeed
Dancing around in line
Knowing of your state of mind, though
weirdly feeling fine.

The Rights of Clothes

When the slow-motion stopped me
all the way home
I found my pair of pants
My pair of traps
The ones which I enslaved you in

And ever since they greeted me
For with passion being worn
Ever since this fashion born

Cry anymore they won't
The right model has been found
Never ever try to go
The right model has been found

The perfect blend of colors and vows
Ready to proclaim the rights of clothes
A little stitch here, and oh wow
Dressing will never be that gross
Take that fancy coat away
The heat is blowing us low
Down to short skirts
and blood-red gloves.

Isaac Newton

A thousand of distinct kinds of labor
going on inside me
while I'm stripped out of my consciousness
Feeling like nothing was done for months before
Everything came my way and then down to everyone
As if it was ever our fault, such mess
Trying out clothes to cover where it's still sore

Inside it all
There's still that something more
Running away to the flowery fields,
reaching out for the sun
New Year resolutions buried
sown underneath solid ground
The fruits of your efforts, watered
and alive
Your tree of successes to be done

Still laying unconscious, juices spin
And burn my throat
Like never seen acid thought
As they open slowly
my eyes already looking
down
Scars upon my wrist that don't exist at all
Out the skin
The picture's mine and raw
And I feel the fluids ready to fall

But besides it all
There's still that something more
Kept hidden inside healthy soil
From which solid rocks are born
Dreams built and dreams torn apart

I'll be waiting here, for the apple to forgive
And fall as roots also need to feed
Looking for a way to heal
the inner damage
Working even though standing still.

Cruelty in Pieces (or Song For der Streuselist)

The center of the bed
It spins around inside his head
Old people he remembers well enough
Tell him it's time to feel free
Through telephone lines cut since Dawn
"No one to call you bad"
And the coins running out of reach
If you choose to follow the ecto way
In no time things will feel fragile
Your reflections and decisions all feeble
Like old people passing you by

"Listen, darling
It will hurt to let you go
Though it's clear you'll hurt me so
And I won't listen to your life screaming out
At every corner
Loud words of confusion"

Would you ever try to complain
after breaking the strain of your dead mother song
Or would you try to change
To prove me wrong in my accusations?

"Life's not waiting on us
or on your cruelty to grow mature and disappear
My real fear stands between two lines:
disagreement and insignificance
Converging both with ever shorter distance
to a point called You."

Franc-tireur of my heart
Remove me from the lines
and eject me out of sight.

Irish Illnesses

[instrumental]

The Bells

Ringing alone beyond the frontiers
Perfectly born from collision
The sounds
They talk for you
They touch you and guide
your blue blind eyes to the house

Ringing together in unison
Resounding
Hurting the ears
But dripping is not blood from your eyes
Your soul soaked with tears of memory
From the sunlit paths to the dark chapels in the woods
And the faith and the rules
You would try to choose
And read the message given to no one
but you

Singing
Close to Earth itself
The angels would be
Like in the movies (but it's not only a movie)
Just so they can see
the confusion
And hear the sounds on the shelf
Ringing

Alone, you trespass
Violate the lines
No matter how long the crying lasts
Someone will lay you to rest
Marching to the sounds life pursues
Ever rigorously
You'll find the clues to forget and rebuild
Sunlight is always there to fill the void

Ringing, next to boundaries
Next to the seaside
You will think of the bells
Keep their lifes in and put the rest aside

Voices, not sounds
Pulsating
They talk for you.

Who Do You Think You Are

Who do you think you are?
Ignoring me isn't exactly the right way to go
If you're feeling it deep
I mean, love
There are the right ways to show

You could do better than tearing my dress apart
and remembering me.
If that's the way you choose to be,
just don't pretend to blend into me
And leave me to rest.

For my momma always told me
little girls shouldn't hang out
with bad-intentioned women.
I don't trust your intentions.

Look at me when I'm talking to you
Is it that hard?

Sobre controle e descontrole

O que dizer quando se está no controle de si?

As possibilidades se limitam a quase nenhuma, a sociabilidade e a euforia evaporam com o suor, a vida perde tantas cores... mas o controle volta. É o preço da sobriedade, uma troca justa. A realidade por alguns instantes de alegria e otimismo puramente ilusórios. A questão principal é qual escolha deve ser feita - residiria o verdadeiro auto-controle na mente saudável e equilibrada ou na intoxicação, na inebriante felicidade de simplesmente "ser", sem medos? O que é prejudicial para o corpo, nesse caso, pode ser a cura definitiva para aquilo que alguns consideram doença: a sanidade. Que distúrbio é esse que nos faz escrever de mãos firmes e com o coração trêmulo? Fugimos da infame realidade porque ela nos reprime mais do que qualquer coisa. Queremos ser as estrelas de nosso próprio espetáculo, algo que, ilusoriamente ou não, conseguimos fugindo ou desviando da realidade em si. Há quem prefere não se lembrar dela também, se embriagando com trabalho excessivo ou sorrisos sustentados pela culpa de não encontrar a verdadeira felicidade. Tudo parece, na verdade, fugir ao nosso controle, nesses momentos sóbrios e tediosos.

O que fazer quando se está no controle de si?

"I may know the word, but not say it."

Setembro, Outubro/2008
(texto) Intocado. Influências de ingestão recente e abusiva de inibidores da recaptação de serotonina.
Você nunca sabe o que vai pensar de si seis meses depois.

The Hibernating

The first attempt was unsuccessful
for he didn't pay enough attention to the
circumstances.
Now, the bedroom is messy,
there are things to be done
and no one to give them a try.

He won't know what to do
when everything feels so wrong
and life seems to be upside down
from then on
It's alright to wish anything will happen
anytime soon

Frozen for a while
He wishes he could escape the blow
Or maybe he just tries to show how much you can
take
Look away
He's too ashamed to try for an audience
To freeze isn't that easy, you know
Requires some practice and, mostly,
patience


He won't know what to do
when everything has stoped working
Things are stopping their actions
from then on
It's alright regretting being frozen
while watching the moon as it
stops from rising

He can't say what is true
from all the available possibilities
and all the failed attempts just thrown at his face
When all he ever tried was
to embrace
the reality of things

The ice now melts, shining
to his bedroom's poor yellow light
and slowly he sees it getting back,
the movement
Action
The life he missed so much
the years lost to the touch of
ice
This time he'll face darkness, face
to face
Without the tiniest shade of regret
or shame
Life was waiting all along, after all.

He wishes he knows what to do,
when everything still feels so wrong.

Punctuality

She was never late, not even when she died:
during the holidays' season, when everybody else
was enjoying their own vacations and could
join the ceremony.

Let's drink to the tragedy of life.

Forward

I wake up and look at you, still asleep
The shine in your eyes no longer
But it's when we suddenly are younger
You wake up and run around the room
looking for her
She's alive, coming right behind you
To enfold you
Hold you and sparkle with love
And I finally conceive you

Is it our fault that life has never been the same
And things get lost to change as we're growing old?
Is it the last time we'll accept each other with the absence
that insists to be told?

You try so hard to reach me,
but no bridge stands between anymore
I'm old and cold and filled with
stubbornness
You're so young, but yet
so filled with sore
And the harder I try, the less I sympathize
with anyone's pain but my own
Sorry to keep you as a target
But we must realize our luck is running out
The cards were thrown

Is it our destiny to keep declining, descending
towards our holiday home away from happiness?
Are we still losing the watch we had on things
And life matters just as much as the rest?

I look at your face and can't hold inside me
that smile
Your beating little heart
There's a little bit of her here
The sea crushes out there, but inside
there's nothing to fear
but this breeze, that keeps us apart

Is it true you plan to die, slowly and hidden from all
To keep the surprise?
I wish you could just turn around, give it up and go forward
For we shouldn't reach her before
it really is the time
The roses didn't die, did they?
So won't we
(even though I wish I was gone every night I lay alone
on our bed)

It is time we decide to take care of you
and the little wars going on inside your head

Excerpt - The Gospel According to Darkness

And a desperate rage is brought out of the ruins, through each and every cobweb of memory, against the deceased ones; rage which will only consume those in mourning until the final acceptance.

Father Luke

Listen: Poe - Haunted
Poe - Wild
Jane Siberry - The Gospel According to Darkness
Kate Bush - Hello Earth

Read: Mark Z. Danielewski - House of Leaves

Preventive Measures

As he first entered the room, his eyes captured her image, lying on the hospital bed.
He thought immediately of a dying animal, like an old fox caught by some hungry lion
out in the woods.
It was too sad for him to bear, but he didn't shed a single tear that night.

He swallowed.

"I love you" were the words told as he left the place, holding her living hand
for the very last time.
His ultimate gift was her answer.
A weakened voice.

"Me too"

Nowadays hospitals at night, wide windows and narrow corridors are constantly avoided, as an efficient measure to prevent future disappointments.

Liquid Thinking

If she was a glass of water,
she'd be about to fall and break in a thousand pieces
or to be drank empty by a bystander.
I just want to be there with her.

If only I could become a glass of milk or something,
I'd maybe get a glimpse of her feelings.
Or maybe not.
Who knows what crosses your mind
when you're a vessel
filled with some liquid?
Not blood or pus, but pure
crystalline water
or maybe pure white milk.
Who knows?

It's better, more comforting to believe
she'll remain fulfilled until I arrive
Until I'm thirsty of her love and attention once again
so she can be drank empty by my selfishness.

A glass of water, about to fall and break
into a thousand pieces of glass.
She's a puzzle yet to be solved.

Afterparty

Snow-white socks, they slipped through his thin,
snow-white leg
The supreme outfit, it would fit any time
or occasion
Black socially acceptable shoes, and black,
clean social-friendly pants
'For the last time', he thought, as the tie
around snow-white neck fit just right.

Or he wish he had thought.

Choirboy

Electric is how things are perceived, at first sight.
He is driven, lost in many winding paths to follow,
not really sure of which way to turn at.
But, somehow, he will listen to a sweet beep
beep beep
right away to the horizon.

He will hear her calling, the final gathering.
(until found is the voice within)

Choirgirl

On the bench.
Words were dripping to the floor by the bench,
away to anyone who cares to notice.
A little pool of words, meeting of thoughts,
and fingerprints of a chubby little girl.
She wishes she would curl up and wake up
as a butterfly, an artist
the magician at the bench.

She sings herself out.
(to whoever who cares to listen)

Choir

Everybody was singing happily
ever after the pain dissolved itself
There were questions too
But what is there now, the immediate still waits
for the answer
Is she still there, teaching the choir?

We will wait until before
the next concert.

Lookaround

There was her absence,
everywhere.
In the chaos of each room, cluttered with clothes
everywhere
there was her chaos, alone.
But some hope, like the curious bird
entering the room for shelter
in between the mess
just flies around, feathers shaking
to the wind
comfort shaking to the wind still blowing

In the air, traces of her love
still linger.

Notes:

-need some more parallel lines (blondie)
-w/ FAITH
-and ghosts (siobhán)

bjs

The Pupil, pt. II (Narrow)

She was at the ending now
Missed out black and white screening,
but the colors didn't mess up the unique beauty
of her experience
Backed by a royal orchestra, which laughed
and greeted her aloud

In her heart still lived the pupil that couldn't get old
as it was by her own eyes told

She followed her own light, through a narrow corridor
Each voice and tone rehearsed as never before
While the public watched, astounded,
her final act
The symphony was now her own
as she kept it beside her, not to be alone
with a vow to keep alive the music as, just like her years before,
another pupil was born

Pictures and newspapers will agree
hundreds of years from then,
when every other fruit is fallen and trees are rotting
that night will never be forgotten.

Sick

Have you ever experienced being sick on a rainy day?

how to notice holes

in a way, holes are just invisible. they're always there, and you don't really care about a hole until it is filled. when it is filled, be it with diamonds or with leaves - you won't understand it immediately, you will wonder why has it been filled, if it was always a hole, empty.

you'll think things don't work that way. holes can't disappear like that.

and while you think, you'll walk over that ground that once was a deep hole, without even noticing. you don't jump over it anymore, for you can walk over it. you were ok with holes, now you are differently ok without them.
until you fall.
the hole reappeared.
and now you care that there is a hole.

try not to be scared, or disappointed - it happens all the time. it isn't that hard to start noticing holes instead of forgetting them.

just don't forget to keep jumping.