Monday, February 24, 2014

When the illusion died

When the illusion died
There was the void
The emptiness
The nothingness of days

When the illusion died
There was the noisy silence of the mind
The out of tune insane symphony of the heart
The sleepless nights

When the illusion died

No past
No future
No color
No movement

Buried under words
Left to perish in abandonment
Never to resurrect
Forever gone

Friday, February 21, 2014

Restraining order

It is and it isn't
It comes and it goes
Doomed to fail
Yet it lingers
Wouldn't it be swell should there be
a restraining order on thoughts? 

Wednesday, February 5, 2014

The Linguistics of Me

If you wish to know me
You must read between the lines
Find me in the punctuation
Mostly in the comas, less in the periods
And exclamation marks
If you wish to know me
You must question the nouns
Follow the adjectives
Ponder the provisionality of prepositions
Bear with the intensity of adverbs
If you wish to know me
You'll move in different tongues
Walk long distances
Cross frontiers
Push their borders
And occasionally
Feel lost in translation.

Linguístico Eu

Se quiser saber de mim
Tem que ler nas entrelinhas
Encontrar-me na pontuação
Mais nas vírgulas que em pontos finais
Ou marcas de exclamação
Se quiser saber de mim
Deve questionar substantivos
Acompanhar adjetivos
Ponderar a provisionalidade das preposições
Suportar a intensidade dos advérbios
Se quiser saber de mim
Seguirá por outras línguas
Andará longas distâncias
Cruzará fronteiras
Empurrará barreiras
E ocasionalmente
Se perderá na tradução.

Monday, February 3, 2014

Some days

There are some days when, to feel alive, you need to skydive, run a marathon, swim across the English Channel, climb a mountain. Some days, to feel alive, it is not possible to just wake up, drink coffee, read, think. You must go to Japan, India, Indonesia, by yourself. You must lose yourself in their streets, listen to their foreign language. You must not understand. You must feel small, insignificant, inside a giant temple. You must not know if you're ever going back. 

Some days, the clarity of the sun, the smallness of every day stuff do not bring life do not make you feel alive. It is just not enough. Some days, no smile, no word, no color can erase the stain left by the pain, the loss, the separation. No distraction suffices, no project makes sense.  There is no effort, on these days, worth making.  You take care of the projects, nonetheless. You make an effort anyway. Energies are invested, obligations are fulfilled, tender gestures are performed , strength is drawn from somewhere. 
There are days, still, that when facing the impossibility of grandeur, you must accept the void, the pain, and just let time go by. Facing the impossibility of sitting in front of the ocean and contemplating the waves, their different shades and the colors of the sky, of not uttering a word until the sun has set, you must say good morning, you must treat kindly the strangers, you must welcome the smiles, the tender gestures. You must ignore the indiference, you must dismiss the ignorance. Because not all days will be like this, not all nights.