Tuesday, March 24, 2015

For the right to obsess

I

A word
The right word
Not the right word
Read it!
Hear it!
Feel it!
Go back to it!
Change it!
There! 
No! 
Read it!
Hear it!
Feel it!
Go back again! 


II

A face
Look at it!
Admire it!
Close your eyes!
See it again!
The lines 
The colors 
The hues 
Open your eyes!
Walk away! 
Live!
It comes back! 
The face
The colors
The lines
The hues


III

A thought 
Ponder!
Reflect!
Go to sleep!
Wake up!
At 3:28
The thought 
Insist!
Meditate!
The thought 
The sun 
The morning 
The thought

IV

A feeling
Two sided
Love 
Hatred
A pendulum
Feel one!
Feel the other!
Feed on one!
Or the other!
Direct it!
Outwards
Inwards
Consume it! 
Be consumed!
A feeling 
Two sided

Monday, March 23, 2015

The Restless Mind, The Unquiet Soul

She was an unquiet soul
He had a restless mind
She jumped off cliffs,
diving into dark waters 
He looked at the world, 
through the window, 
gazing at the stars. 

She longed 
for the speed of the light
He ran 
as fast as he could
And went back 
to where it started

She dared.
Still, she carried 
the weight of the world
And she cared

He was calm 
as the waters of a lake, 
yet violent 
as the tempests 
in open waters

She shared 
the brightness 
of the stars 
and the darkness 
of the night

They may have been
the perfect match
But, they've never met, 
they've never touched
The restless mind, 
The unquiet soul

Sunday, March 22, 2015

Significant questions

When the story ends
What lies beyond the final stop?
When the last page is turned, 
The book finally closed,
What remains in the heart?
What will conduct the soul? 
What will light up its way? 

When love is through with it all
Does it pack its bags and go?
Does it catch a midnight train
And never looks back again? 
Does it change into new form?
Does it acquire new shape?

Filled with tenderness and compassion,
Does it linger? 
Does it stay? 
What was once is never more? 
Or does it find other ways? 

Saturday, March 21, 2015

Unabomber

I don’t want to destroy anything
All the delicate beauty
Constructed with heart and soul

I don’t want to destroy anything
The dreams of once
The fireflies in the garden
The children running free

I don’t want to destroy anything
Yet the clock is ticking
And the Unabomber in me
Walks back and forth
The apparatus soon to explode

Wednesday, March 18, 2015

Now

"If not now then when"
said the t-shirt bought in the department store
If not now...
But now was walking in circles
Now was swimming against the tide
Now was suspended

If not now...
But now was moments of pleasure
Hours of frustration
Drops of love
Rivers of hopelessness

If there would not be now
If there would not be there
There would not be
Not be

Tuesday, March 17, 2015

A Princesa e O Ogro


Era uma vez, há muito tempo, um reino que era sempre quente e ensolarado. Nesse reino, vivia uma princesa que não era apenas bonita, mas também muito inteligente. No mesmo reino, vivia um ogro. Ele morava, como muitos outros ogros, trolls e outras estranhas criaturas de contos de fadas, em uma caverna. Da sua caverna, ele vigiava uma ponte. De um lado da ponte, ficava a bela e ensolarada área do reino. Do lado da ponte do Ogro, tudo era frio e sombrio.
 
Quando o ogro olhava para a ponte,  podia ver o lado ensolarado de tudo, mas ele nunca atravessava essa ponte. Era suficiente para ele contemplar as flores brotando à distância; as crianças nadando no lago em volta do castelo; e os amantes caminhando de mãos dadas, as mulheres em seus vestidos leves e coloridos, os homens com seus ternos de linho e chapéus. Ele, o Ogro, é claro, imaginava como seria passear com um ser amado como eles faziam, mas para fazer isso, teria que desistir do seu poder e seu poder era a coisa que o Ogro mais gostava. Qualquer um que atravessasse a ponte era morto e devorado pelo Ogro. Era isso, pelo menos, o senso comum no reino, passado de pai para filho, de mãe para filha. O ogro deliciava-se com o fato de ser tão temido pelo povo do reino, por poder exercer tanto poder, mesmo de longe.

A Princesa do reino era uma pessoa muito curiosa, como o são a maioria das pessoas inteligentes, e não estava contente com o fato de que, apesar de o reino ser quente e ensolarado, a área controlada pelo ogro era escura, fria e sombria. Além disso, enquanto o Ogro tinha uma linda ensolarada e verde paisagem para contemplar, quando os habitantes do reino olhavam além da ponte tudo o que viam era a escuridão que havia nesse lado. A Princesa não estava nada feliz com isso e ponderou que, como uma princesa, era seu dever tentar negociar com o Ogro. 

Ela começou a ir a ponte todos os dias. Sentava-se lá com um livro o dia inteiro. Como ficava do outro lado da ponte, o Ogro não fazia nada. Ele até gostava de observá-la. Depois de, mais ou menos, um mês, o Ogro começou a sair da caverna. A princesa ficou impressionada com o quão não feio era esse ogro.  Até tinha olhos bonitos e bondosos. Ela não encarava seu olhar diretamente, é claro. Havia aquela reputação de devorar pessoas vivas e isso, por si só, já mantinha mesmo a mais corajosa das princesas em algum estado de alerta. Ela também podia sentir uma sombra escura que, por vezes, encobria o olhar do Ogro. Mesmo assim, gostava do modo que ele olhava para ela.

A Princesa ainda considerava sua obrigação para com o povo do reino tentar alcançar um acordo com o Ogro, então ela continuava indo à ponte, dia após dia. Ttrazia um livro e um lanche e passava parte do lanche ao outro lado da ponte. O Ogro, agora, sentava-se ao lado dela, mas ainda do lado dele da ponte, e ouvia as histórias que ela lia em voz alta. Sentavam-se assim todos os dias, separados apenas por uma linha imaginária que dividia a ponte exatamente ao meio. Não foi muito depois de esse ritual se estabelecer que o Ogro e a Princesa começaram a trocar opiniões sobre os livros e sobre a vida. 

A Princesa, então, parecia não mais lembrar o motivo pelo qual tinha começado a vir à ponte. Tudo o que pensava era sobre o tempo que passaria com o Ogro, sobre o que eles conversariam. O Ogro realmente parecia apreciar as histórias que ela lhe trazia e a companhia que nela encontrava. Isso trouxe à princesa uma felicidade nunca antes sentida. O Ogro olhava para ela com olhos bondosos e ela esqueceu das sombras que um dia viu em seu olhar. Um dia, admitiu ao Ogro que havia se apaixonado por ele e sugeriu que era hora de ela cruzar a ponte. O Ogro aconselhou-a a não fazê-lo, mas a Princesa acreditava que a vida não tinha sentido se vivida pela metade. Ela decidiu atravessar a ponte de qualquer jeito. Agora admitia que há muito sonhava em beijar o não tão feio Ogro de lindos olhos. Ela veio à ponte em uma manhã de domingo. Usava um vestido de seda azul e branco. Um vestido que o Ogro, um dia, havia dito lhe fazia ainda mais bonita. O Ogro estava em pé no seu lado da ponte quando ela caminhou decididamente e atravessou o limite. A princesa lhe deu o mais apaixonado dos beijos que jamais existiu e, depois disso, nunca, jamais, foi vista novamente.


Wednesday, March 11, 2015

The fairy with the heavy heart

A strange creature he was. He talked in rhymes, some clear as water, some the obscure product of his conflicted mind. At times, sweet and kind, he would come at night and caress her skin softly while she dreamed. She would wake up feeling luminous and strong. She would spread her illuminated blue fairy wings and fly high. On days like those, her senses were heightened, she could see the brightest colors, she could hear the faintest sounds, she could feel all the love in the world and heal all the sadness surrounding her.

 She would feel reassured of his love and kindness of heart and would look for him in his underground dwelling. She had been there many times, even before he lived there, because, even though she was a fairy, she had a darkness of her own. As a fairy, though, she had learned to hid it behind a smile. "Not to scare the little kids", she'd justify to herself. She'd go see him and listen to his rhymes and riddles. Encouraged by his night tenderness, by the magical transcendent state his caresses left her in, she would ask for a confirmation of his feelings. He would, however, groan, curse and send her away. She'd feel hurt, but would forgive him: "He must have his reasons, his darkness consumes him..."

Days would pass and she would worry about him.  She would send him a flower petal, a bright grain of sand, a seashell, a drop of honey, anything her fairy senses would think could bring his somber life some joy and light. He would come back soft, sweet and appreciative of the beauty she brought into his life. She'd feel hopeful he might choose to come live in the light someday. She hoped and she attempted to bring hope. 

One day, he told her of a beautiful dream he had had. Her heart began to beat fast with loving anticipation. He told her, nevertheless, he had dreamt he was walking hand in hand with a creature just like him. He let her know of his frustration and anger upon opening his eyes and finding out it was what it was: "Only a dream!” She asked him: "Didn't she have wings?" "No!", he replied. "Did she bring you flowers, honey, sea shells and beautiful things?" "No!", he retorted. She looked at him in silence for a couple of minutes and in a weak voice told him: "I wish you dreamed of me!" He let out a painful cry and drew his breath deeply. She felt small and frail. She had already regretted expressing her wish, her hopes. He shouted and screamed. He broke everything in his dwelling. Furniture, plates and cups were all thrown onto the walls. She felt frightened and diminute. He, then, became very quiet and still.  He lay down on the ground amidst all the ruins of his life. She stood there in the corner, trembling, shivering, her heart sunken, her wings unable to open, her legs unable to move.

She picked up a broken jar he used to keep the drops of honey she'd bring him. She looked around for its pieces, attempting to put them back together. Forgetting her own dreams, she said in a soft voice: “You do have to dream first, you know?" He did not move, he did not reply.  She could not find the right pieces of the jar. They seemed to have been mixed with every other piece of broken thing. She set the broken jar on the ground and remained there, in the corner, waiting. At times, she'd look at him and wondered if he had died. She called his name, she begged and pleaded. He did not look at her. She left his dwelling. She couldn't stay there forever.  She had her responsibilities as a fairy. 

She'd still come by, every day, to check on him. He had been mean and cruel, but she could not find it in her to hate him. Maybe, because she was, after all, a fairy. Maybe because she had, herself, been to the dark places his soul inhabited. She asked and begged, but he remained there, still, and did not look at her. 


One day, when the sun was setting, she came by and saw the furniture had been fixed. She looked inside, he wasn't there, but her fairy ears could hear the echoes of his recent rhymes. She looked around. There seemed to be no room for heightened senses and spread out wings in his dwelling. Or perhaps, there was just no room for a fairy like her. "Perhaps, there never was." She might never know, she might never understand. Yet, one thing she knew. When she had walked away from his dwelling, her fairy heart was carrying an extra weight, a heavy load that made her walk and move slower. She hoped he'd find the light he so much needed and that, perhaps, by doing it, he might remove that extra weight she now carried within.   She feared that, as long as she carried that load with her, she would never be able to fly as high as she once did. 

Monday, March 9, 2015

On finding out a spider had my name

After having heard my name, the little girl told me they once had found a spider at home  and had named it Lorena. "What an annoying girl!", I thought. Nevertheless, the unpleasant, unasked for, piece of information made me wonder. Why would it make me so upset to have my name used to name such a creature? "Better than a dog", my own second thought surprised me! Still, the feeling resonated the truth in me. 

Realizing the risk of finding myself hated by all the dog loving community of the world, I feel I may need to clarify that I don't dislike dogs in particular. I must admit, however, to finding  no great connection between myself and them. A dog is a symbol of domesticity, of joyful existence in submission to other's designs, the creature on which one projects one's, at times, selfish and arrogant self, with no concern for rejection, but the actual expectation of forever unconditional love. 

 I came to the conclusion then that I'd really rather find my name on a spider. Deemed ugly and scary, it goes about its own spider businesses, solely responsible for the weaving of its own web, a web that is both delicate and strong, that catches and immobilizes other intruding creatures. It may be ugly and scary, but it walks its own paths with independence and pride. It is, the spider, free to be.

Créditos da foto: Marina Montenegro Mascarenhas

Wednesday, March 4, 2015

Let me

No role model
No good girl
No angel

Don’t label me
Steer all hopes away from me
Let me be

Let me be
Dark
Mean
Selfish

Let me feel
envy
anger
lust

Don’t label me
No saint
No prude
No example

Let me be
The dark night
The absence of light

Let me belong to the disturbed
The fallen angels
The restless lonely souls
Let me

 

Misfit

Busco socorro na música
Não acalma
Desisto
Volto ainda
A dor fica 

A música vai
Mas retorna
Companhia de
outros desmazelados
Solitários
Isolados
Em inglês, 
Misfits

Fico eu
Meu pé na terra 
a cabeça no céu
Esse pé cá, o outro lá
O coração expandido 
Infinitas línguas dessa minha Babel
O mundo inteiro roda
Dentro
Da minha cabeça

Indelicado mundo 
Violento
Covarde
Afaste-se, ordena o mundo
Sofro 
Minha frágil dor
Caminho só
Misfit

Meu nó na garganta
A música não desata
Nem afrouxa
Mas do caos em mim,
Do caminho trilhado, 
Em sua inútil poderosa companhia 
Há de brotar luz e som
Há de nascer vida


Monday, March 2, 2015

The Princess and the Ogre


Once upon a time, there was a realm where it was always warm and sunny. There lived a Princess who was not only pretty, but also very smart. In that very same realm lived an ogre. He lived, as many other ogres, trolls, and fairy tale strange creatures, in a cave. From his cave, he guarded a bridge. On one side of the bridge, laid the beautiful sunny part of the realm where the Princess lived. On the Ogre’s side of the bridge, everything was cold and gloomy. 

When the Ogre looked at the bridge, he could see the sunny side of it all, but he never crossed that bridge. It was enough for him to contemplate the flowers blooming from a distance; the children swimming in the lake surrounding the castle; and the lovers walking hand in hand, the women in their colorful light  dresses, men wearing elegant linen suits and hats. He, the Ogre, of course, wondered how it would feel to stroll around with a loved one like they did, but to do that he would have to surrender and his power was the thing the Ogre enjoyed the most. Anyone who ever crossed the bridge would be killed and eaten by the Ogre. That was, at least, the common knowledge in the Realm, passed by father to son, mother to daughter. The Ogre reveled in the fact that he was so much feared by the people of the realm, that he could exert so much power, even from afar.

The Princess of the realm was a very curious person,  as most intelligent people are, and she disliked the fact that, although most of the realm was warm and beautiful, the area controlled by the Ogre was dark, cold and gloomy. Besides, while the Ogre had the beautiful green and sunny view to contemplate from his cave, when the inhabitants of the realm looked beyond the bridge all they saw was the darkness of the Ogre’s side. The Princess was not happy about this. She thought, as a princess, it was her duty to try and negotiate with the Ogre.

She started by going to the bridge everyday. She sat there with a book the whole day long. Since she was on the other side of the bridge, the Ogre did not do anything. He actually liked to look at her. After a month, or so, he started coming out of the cave. The Princess was impressed at how not ugly this ogre was. He actually had quite nice and kind eyes. She did not look straight into his eyes, of course, there was that reputation of eating people alive and that would keep even the bravest and smartest of princesses on some guard. She could also feel a dark shadow that came over the Ogre’s gaze, from time to time. Nevertheless, she enjoyed the way he looked at her.

She still considered it was her duty to the people of her realm to try to reach an agreement with the Ogre, so she kept going, day after day, to the bridge. She would bring a book and a snack. She would pass part of her snack to the other side of the bridge. The Ogre would now seat by her side, but still on his side of the bridge, and would listen to the stories she’d read aloud. They sat like that everyday, separated only by an imaginary line which divided the bridge in the middle. It was not long after this ritual had been established that the Ogre and the Princess started to actually exchange opinions, thoughts and feelings about  books and life.

The Princess, by then, seemed to have forgotten the purpose which had brought her to the bridge in the first place. All she thought about was the time she would spend with the Ogre, what they would talk about. The Ogre really seemed to enjoy the stories she brought him and the company he found in her.  That brought the princess an unprecedented happiness. The Ogre looked at her with kind eyes and she forgot about the shadows she once saw in his stare. One day, she admitted to the Ogre she had fallen in love with him and she suggested it was time she crossed the bridge. The Ogre advised her not to, but the princess thought life had no meaning if it was only half lived. She decided to cross the bridge anyway. She now admitted she had long dreamed of kissing the not so ugly Ogre with beautiful eyes. She came to the bridge on a Sunday morning, wearing a  blue and white silk dress. A dress the Ogre, once said, made her look even prettier. The Ogre was standing on his side of the bridge when she walked decidedly and crossed its limits. She gave the Ogre the most passionate kiss that ever was and, after that, she was never, ever, seen again.