gosto

de viajar
dentro e fora
de cheirar o odor a vida que corre invisivel
pelos trilhos que decido tomar
dessa felicidade levitante
que e de olhar para os pes e ve-los poisados
consecutivamente
em sitios distantes de tudo reconhecivel
e do proximo passo
que noutras argilas os hao-de deixar.

where?

everywhere nightcrawlers and slick subterfuges...
everywhere hungry for petty drops of personality...

where is everything else to be found?

who's who

reflexion is the ultimate refuge of identity

chasing clouds since 1977

(if i had a label on me)

the man who fights himself in order to actually be

trips ocasionally on constelations of semi-forgoten dreams,
on solid frames of wish-it-was's,
so perfectly real, personal and achievable...
that the stirs of oblivion appear before him as oponents of an almost poetic nature.

truly wanting

not every one gets to truly want something

my religion

there is no action before action takes place by itself,
a mind nurtured by a constant blood stream of wellness
derived from a simple truth, omnipresent,
as if something living beyond us
supports our own beliefs though within ourselves.

Cyclic as us,
relying on a moment that is itself,
unmesurable by time,
we are all and everywhere.

simple my religion on unanswerable questions,
of everything possible, true and visible.

as simple as that

music makes me dream.
love makes me live.

butterfly sidekick

my mind burns and stirs,
my blood lives by itself.

fed on the salt of sweaty tears...
my body has its will and everything else follows.

i hurt out of nothing,
fight for whats not mine,
and dream of things long gone.

this is me just as much as my own denial.
its just me wanting to be me.
plain and simple.
oh yeah.

emocoes em alvoroco dizes tu...

nao serao elas unicas e governantes?
havera pulsar que nao o que vibra e incomoda e se sente
sem que por isso tenha de incomodar?
que outro viver havera que nao o que nos poe em marcha
e nos torce os bracos e acaricia de estalos e beijos sobejos de calor?

o alvoroco...
a vida em alvoroco,
emocoes em alvoroco...

em que outros modos haverao de existir?
eu certamente nao os conheco...

big heart

this life's an avalanche
wishes of wish it was
feels as mine

ecstasy's kick
on a wild blood stream
beggin to be set free

blossoming eye lashes
warm wakening morning
memories, i wish it to be

my heart's too big to explode
it weighs inside of me
and waits...

brave? what is to be brave?

bravery is often mistaken with carelessness and ingenuity...
to be brave is not to make a choice, but staying on the chosen path.

sabor a agua.ardente

amor e forte e duro e cruel,
e e quente, manso e faz brilhar...
sol na cara, sorriso aberto, doce de espirito,
pedrada no peito, raiva e dor de furia...

amor es tu sou eu e todos os outros
que sangram e sonham e deixam-se sonhar...

about art I

art is a raw wool blanket, wich (un)confortably rescues us from the cold and ever-growing human stupidity.

sometimes the artist is the stupid.

about art II

art and love are the only possible truly honest forms of existence.

...

a falta de humanidade na humanidade preocupa-me seriamente...

today's analogy

life is a blazing hot cup of coffee
life has a cookie on one side and a sour chocolate on the other
life comes with a small spoon (those you handle with finger tips)

on a sparkling white porcelain cup...

easily spoiled by the stains of regretted choices

sem que existas

es o que mais me doi em mim...

aquilo que nao vi sem saber se veria
se tivesse estado presente,
de ti tudo aquilo que nao tive
ainda que saiba que nada houve...

pisam-me os passos que nao deste,
os impasses e solucos que nao fui,
os segundos feitos anos nao sabendo que farias,
se estarias... mesmo nao estando.

que serias feita de choros amores e outras felicidades,
de dores abertas a forca de sangue e sal...
e do calor de tantos quantos soubessem de ti...

...

e por um instante que nao o fosses,

que fossemos apenas a cada instante...

que fossemos so e nada mais
sem medos momentos,
livres da sombra
livres do Tudo...

sem que existas quero-te...

e sem inicio nem fim,
qual eterna lufada de ar fresco matinal,
sermos a todo o instante renovados

.

sem sentido soam-me bem

a espera que eu tomo, que vive em mim...
as palavras que uso, onde eu vivo, sonho e sou...
aos sons que me tomam, que me enchem e me fazem ver...
a tudo aquilo que eu sou e teimo ser e nao-ser...

ah, e ao silencio que vem de dentro, o unico que consigo tolerar.

...

ha palavras que despontam sem origem ou direccao,
e por vezes soam-me bem mesmo assim...

visions of others but me

i see...

floating icy landscapes,
tigers on trees,
i see people who see me...

i see...
i see...

what do i see if others but me...

i see them dance and love and be,
i see them colors of earth and sea,
and tastes of freshness and warmth, but me...

what do i see...

crash-test-dummy high on coffe and tea,
smell the sun, taste the air and hug a tree

i see it all, when there's nothing to see,

what do i see
what do i see

if others but me...