Monday, March 16, 2009

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
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

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

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
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?

Wednesday, March 11, 2009

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.

Monday, March 09, 2009

The Hibernating

The first attempt was unsuccessful
for he didn't pay enough attention to the
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
Look away
He's too ashamed to try for an audience
To freeze isn't that easy, you know
Requires some practice and, mostly,

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
The life he missed so much
the years lost to the touch of
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.

Saturday, March 07, 2009


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.