Irreplaceability

The true tragedy of Love
is its irreplaceability.

The touch that takes over,
your physical self,
which it owns.

The memory where it lives and haunts.
The presence that enlightens and to darkness returns,
on a first breath of absence.

to feel

streams of thoughts,
rampaging acessements
of all sorts...

to act, not to act, to choose
to trust the choice, to choose to trust
to fight, to walk, to keep on walking
to love, not to hate, to love, to love, to love
to not be tired, to keep on walking
to smile no matter what, no matter what.
to do these things
and those things
all things I'm allowed
and those out of reach...
to listen, to watch, to feel
to believe theres something
to believe it to be real
to feel.

drama drama drama

everything's got drama!
shit, everything's difficult and complex!
on every mind an evil twist
and on every word a hidden wish...

everything's got a story!
everyone's got a plan.
a side-plan slowly whispered,
on a language i don't understand.

they're like slick break-dancers,
high on themselves and their fast moves,
self-declared ethical bouncers,
shaking hands with empty gloves.

and then pointing fingers of harsh mistrust
accuse me of slipping on dreams of lust!

as if i could charge upon my sleep
against these creatures of make-belief...

mz

These moves of letting know

driven full on things to speak out
things to love without a doubt
my heart grew bigger than my fists
arms curved, gave me kind of a twist...

i became unfit for what came next.

not knowing who's listening or why
upper-cuts on hold, standing by
unleashed on the shade of an absent eye

one after the other after the other...

they have cracked my ribs,
nearly pushed me aside…

nearly.
but not quite.

silence of you

silence of you,
till when will you last
i hope for this light,
but night keeps us apart.

sharp secrets sleep,
blood pours from each dart
be gone sweet talk,
whispering slowly by dark.

so i wish you could see,
eyes that tear me apart
that in the salt of your tears,
runs the warmth of my heart.

oh silence of you,
long you will last
i have hoped for this light,
but night keeps us apart.

ouch!

dreams will rough you up and the chase will bleed you dry,
lone you up and put you down.

and there's not much more i can say, unfortunately...
for its not fortune that dictates my steps,
it is hunger, thirst, and a blind love for whats yet to come.

nightcap

finishing a night's cap
of red and ashes on myself
i drink some tunes and wonders
of what happens now

yes i still slowly wisper sure poems
of slight fears on closing mornings
of delusional hopes and waits
of nothings to come...

yes im finishing tonights cap,
but what about tomorrow?

will i still?

daybreak reflections

whispering daybreak, leaves of autumns to come, i'm as sure as you are
of those things uncertain, of memories and hope, of trust and despair...
of why and what and who, of things of here and there, of nowhere to be found.
daybreak smooth lament, you know it just as well as i do.

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.

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.

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.