:::em tudo (foto: Rafael Bertelli)

terça-feira, novembro 05, 2013

To Mo

She smells like wood
Like an afternoon in the forest
The sunset through the trees
Rays of colour-lights swim
On the surface of a river
A silent river a silent sigh
Screams from her eyes the pain
Of a broken romance

It is night in the forest
Her hair still shines
There is smoke on the trees  from our cigarettes
We all celebrate around the dark
Her smile still lightens
Now with the sun in its rise
There is never enough of her

To take us to bed
To kiss us good night

That night

 That night

I wiped her face and my hands got wet
There was a teardrop wishing to fall on the wooden floor
I balanced it on the tip of my index finger
and laid it on my bed to then - on its insignificance - rest my head.

Ensure my sleep, sweetheart
Be my loyal serf, be my guard
Be fed by the words I've never said
And for the future I've mangled, be sad

No sign of regret even though I knew I might
She stood there in the dark
The poor little girl under no light
Under no circumstances would she depart

As if she got no pride
She whistled a song and got undressed
Her face still drowned in a puerile cry
She danced her way to the bed as in a pagan rite

She prayed in my ears
There was no begging, no forgiveness
I loved her as if she could save me one more time
As if she could be my sweet dreams that night

quinta-feira, outubro 03, 2013

I don't know about a title - tittle to come - within my lines - little girl has died

I feel like someone has died. There's this hole inside my stomach.
I feel like I'm missing something, like nobody said anything.
I know someone has died and yet they're all just there and they're singing a song, a song that isn't theirs, a song of my own.
Wait a second. I can hear it. I'm sure now they're reading a poem.
A poem I wrote about a girl I've never met.
The girl I've created only to see her never grow older. The girl I've locked between every two lines I have ever written, who has danced to my most ridiculous songs.
The girl I introduced to the forest, the sea, to a few lovers of mine. The girl who told them I loved them.
The girl who laughed at me when I cried, but when I've been the evil one, she never forgave me.
She taught me nothing, she feared nothing.
The girl I've given so many lives to play is now dead.
Everybody is out there singing and reading about a girl who died for lack of being.

quarta-feira, julho 31, 2013

O dia em que vi o pato voar

Eu me lembro do dia, era claro, eu menino - e o pato na pedra do rio - eu sentado na margem sobre o gramado.
Em dois tempos, o pato alca voo pro outro lado - eu em choque, desacreditado. O pato batia asa, voava, voava...
Dai quando o pato era so uma pinta no meio do mato, que eu me toco, nem pousa, ele volta louco, voado e, quando sobre a agua, o pato mergulha gaivota-duplo-carpado TCHIBUM! Pra depois voltar pra cima da agua, agora sentado.
Eu me lembro do dia, meu Deus! O pato... Ele tinha voado!

sábado, fevereiro 02, 2013


Eu quero tapar seus poros com as pontas dos meus dedos,
Eu quero tapar seus poros com o meu corpo inteiro.
Eu quero cobrir sua cara com a minha boca,
Eu quero encarar seus dentes com a minha nuca.
Eu quero penetrar sua respiração com as minhas pernas,
Eu quero encharcar seus pulmões com os meus seios.
Eu quero apertar seu coração com a minha frente,
Eu quero entupir suas veias com o meu gozo.