quarta-feira, 2 de novembro de 2016

Sem tradução

Sinto saudades do que não fomos
Sinto saudades daquilo que não sabemos
Já sentiu saudades de algo que nunca aconteceu?
Queria que fossem saudades 
Daquilo que ainda não aconteceu

Tenho saudades dos lugares onde não te vi
Das dores que eu sempre sinto
E ainda jaz aqui, aquilo que aprofunda mais ainda
Esse sentimento de rindu
Ainda não traduzido

Saudades são medos instalados
Que viraram cistos no peito, por coisas inacabadas
Daquilo que existem nas dimensões da mente
Dos sonhos
E em todas as outras ao mesmo tempo

Das coisas que mais sinto saudade
90 por cento é irreal
10 por cento é ilusório

Criaturas que habitam o ser
Que se alimentam de nostalgia
Olhar estagnado na linha paralela
Preso entre dois mundos
Da grande dor
Do grande prazer

Essa é a fórmula
Para a grande jornada da alma
Suicídio do eu
Afogamento no mar de som
De cicatrizes
Lugar da verdade

Sinto saudades do que não fui
Sinto saudades do que não sei
Queria que fossem saudades 
Daquilo que ainda não aconteceu

quinta-feira, 27 de outubro de 2016

The good lie

Reality is boring
Everywhere you go
Reality is the same
People wake up
Sometimes get up
Eat (for those who can)
Work (for those who must)
Walk around passing ghosts
Hunting the city
Eat again (if very lucky)
Go to sleep (if very empty)

I can't
When the night rises
And all the deformed creatures
Leave their holes
When the dim light
Can't show shapes clear
And everything can be beautiful
By just putting a red
Dull light over it
It gains new form, a new history
A new angle through your lenses

Nights dignifies beings
Mislead our perception
What is black and white?
There is no such a thing
No shadows to blame
Everything is drunken dark
Things can only be seen
Through the eyes of our hands
And the eyes of our senses
Since the eyes that shallowly judge
In darkness are completely blind

Reality is boring
The night drives it away
And we create our own world
Through melodies and loud noises
Through white and colored powder
Covering our faces
Through lipsticks and ropes
Immobilizing our bodies
Freeing our souls
Cutting, hurting our skin
Healing our wounds

The true reality
We create our own
In our particular, micro cosmos
Which one is yours?
That's the primary function of art
Thus artists we could all be
If we cannot go to sleep
Over many ways we give life
To these new universes
Being through blood (for those who bleed)
Or words (for those who lie)


Singapore, oct.2016

Poor in Singapore

Poor of those souls trapped here
In this perfect, aligned, OCD paradise
Amusement park to prevent your complaining
/Thinking too much
But even in this task it fails
For being so dull, so doited

Poor 11 years old soul
Forever drowned into your fake lake
Taken away by this insanity
Where skyscrapers creeps me
And concrete and steel are build
With human souls

What can you show me beside
These too clean streets?
These too safe alleys?
These too guarded corners
Where cameras are the only eyes
That follows me

How can you unmask this?
Vertical cemeteries of people
Buried alive, thinking they live
They are just ghosts hunting this ghost city
The city of everyone and no one at the same time

Pour me a beer
Let's get drunk while watching
Others guts spread all over
While witnessing a Chinese fight
With eyes on fire but hands out!
So funny...

How can we unveil at least one truth?
In this city of fake lions, fake lies
By letting the bar close
And every one go
By letting the comfort of darkness
Sweep away from our mouths
The ugly beautiful deep desires
Talks about the end of the world

The real you is in the empty
Parking lots
The half dirty forgotten places
Inside this fragile skinny and wonderful
Singaporean body
Whose soul doesn't belong here
But somewhere in the infinite sky

The real you is in this
Synchronistic moment
When I fell this building were
Made only to sustain our feet
So we could stand here
Looking down and laughing
At those foolish city lights

How can you show me its true side?
By colorful donkeys
With happy and sad eyes
Inside an empty house
Wanting more, but afraid to ask

Poor of those souls
That didn't met you
And the shy and horny
Fire in your eyes
Don't look at me with those eyes again
Or I'll spend all my money
With Singaporean flights

The un finished poem ( October 2016)

(Wave one)

In one hundred and six pages I searched
I wasn't seeking an answer, but an escape route
But instead, the words lit on fire my heart
As soon as I closed the last page of that peculiar book

For days I'm trying to figure out a way
To put my heart into words
Feelings that cannot be translated
Even if my bahasa was enough 

And in those stranger's words I found
No direction but the one I already knew
That in this life only two things are certain
The synchronicity is the guide to those awaken
And death will come any time without mistake 

These thoughts we try to avoid
From them we run and live like we are forever
We are afraid of our written paths
Because they demand our soul surrender

Instead of putting my mind to dreams
The pages about the steppe multiplied the words inside me
And the certainty that I needed at least to try
Despite the fear of silence in response
To fulfill my path, I need to say these words for thee

(Wave two)


No sidewalk in this city
You need to squeeze yourself
In the street corner
And trust the wheels
Will pass by far enough
Chickens need to be smart
Every day is a dangerous game

I shake hands that pretend to take me to their heart
I wonder where to it really wants to take me
I wonder if it took me to the past
To see the true roots of this place
We would see people making love
On extensive lawns
Before the prayers, before the sort hair cuts
Before outsiders ripped off
The forest culture
Before civilized boats have anchored at the cost
Wasn't it a free man land?
Wasn't it a beautiful naked earth?
Made with buffalo people?
The horns showing their true identity, no lies
Dance and rituals under the moon
How beautiful would it have been?
The true nature...
Not this one of masks
Hiding desires
Creating deceases in the souls
Occulting real intentions of the heart

I wonder if all these cover are there
To also cover the daemons inside
Don't be mistaken, everybody has at least one
But the difference between you and me
Is that I know my owns
I shake hands with it
But you hide behind forced smiles
And stealthy, sly looks
You hide your cowardice
With the "pretending" game
You cheat emotions so well
That you yourself believe in your own lies
And they will keep you here
Chains that won't let you fly
Where the dangerous and
Misleading roads fits you so well