Purple inspiration

Beautiful jacaranda,
You make it all worthwhile.

I look away from the waste,
the graffiti, the poo
(bloody birds and dogs
seem to plot against you!)
I ignore the noise,
the dirty smell in the air,
and focus on your poise,
your elegant way
of simply being there
despising the hours
of draught and solitude,
the delicate purple
of your flowers,
your slim trunk
proudly in the nude...

It’s a blessing that you’re there,
a beautiful sight for me to stare.

Church bells

Dong...dong...
The end came
long before its time.
But lo,
a new beginning
makes the bells chime
once more!

Wouldn’t you think
that after all these years
the sound of church bells
should have been made different
depending on whether
they celebrate life
or remind us of our fears?

At the right place at the wrong time

Useless words
that speak of unleashed love
and impossible desire
Useless flame
that burns coldly
in this fake, imitation fire

Useless thoughts
of how perfect it would be
Useless longing for a future dawn
that we will never see...

Be still, hush, go away
for the timing was not right
and even though this is the place
One of us did not come to stay.

The difference

You come and go
I stay.

You forget about me
and live your life
between work
and play;
you worry about
things that matter
like what other people do
or say.
I just linger here
getting fatter
thinking
and dreaming away.

PLAYING WITH FIRE

Take me out
buy me lunch
Tell me I’m beautiful
Time and again...

Look me in the eye
Keep the flame alive
Let’s both live a lie
While I drive...

And then

When you hear me sigh
And nothing’s left to say
Just let me cry
And pray...

The cheerful wall

shiny
summery
cool and protective
you hide a whole world
inside you.
But only those
holding the key
can go in
and see.

Save your words

Save your words.
Follow the clever silence
Of your fingertips
And reach out for the touch.

Soon enough you will learn
Words are of no use
In preserving or reviving
What we can’t but must
Do without.
No point in whispering
No need to shout.

The pain of loss
Clings to the memory
With claws of fear
For what is yet to lose.

So, save your words
And have the courage to refuse
What you don’t know
How to receive
Have the courage to kill
What is asking you to live.

AUTUMN'S HARVEST

PRESENT PERFECT

It is truly amazing
how perfectly we fit.
We are so well adapted
to each other...
You´re like a long wished for
siamese brother.

But then,
come to think of it,
aren’t we all
made to suit
one another?

Stuck

I'm stuck.

The sunlight hurts
the webs are covering my eyes.
I prick myself
when I try to move
so I never go far.

But still I rejoice
in my good fortune
because, just like me,

here you are.

You and I

Let our music fade
and our dreams
turn into sighs
as long as we may find
beauty in our lives.
Let our confidence
grow old and weak
let us seek
without finding
the blinding light
of truth.

As long as thinking
and feeling
and loving
and wanting
are mere moments
of our being.
As long as you and I
simply are.

INTO THE WOODS

Inviting and beautiful as they may be
The woods are dangerous grounds.

I went in there today.
I ventured
into the enchanting green
careless
crazy
wild
and fortunately
nothing very serious happened.

And tomorrow
if I should happen to be caught by the spell again
I know I won’t be any more careful.
That’s just the way I am
optimistic
hopeful
naive
...
So, please don’t get me wrong, don’t misunderstand my intentions.
When I walk fearlessly into the forest between us
Don’t mistake my friendship for love
I’m just so passionate
maybe immature
Or maybe
I love you...
I’m just
not
sure.

Numb

You came in
And smiled your nervous, candid smile.
You wanted to do better
Do more
Be
Bolder and smarter and more articulate too.

I was charmed
And smiled back, looking straight into your eyes.
I tried to show you everything
You wanted
To know.

Now you say
You are indebted to me;
And I feel so helpless
So shy and so dumb...

I wish I was free
Or numb.

HAPPINESS

Even though it lies still,
coldly away from me,
it is mine, all mine,
whenever I want it to be.

ALWAYS REMEMBER STD

He was a GP.
She was a PA who looked OK.
He met her at AA and she told him about LSD.
At his place, he drank A&W and offered her G&T while they watched MTV.
He didn’t mind her BO when he got to her IUD.
Later, he took AZT to slow down HIV.

What is it that makes the Alentejo such a magical place? Certainly the idyllic landscapes, the unspoilt harmony between nature and man, the tranquil quality of all elements, from soil to sky. The incredible match of colours: warm browns, vigorous greens, tender yellows and all the in-between possibilities. A feast for the eyes, a gift for the soul. A small glimpse of paradise for those who are lucky enough to be able to get there...

I'm torn between the words I could have chosen
And the ones I really said.
I hesitated
And now I've left you mad...

I’m stuck amidst regret, guilt and anger
for things I left unsaid
I chose silence
And now my silence has been spread.

I’m hard but weak and helpless
And so cold that I feel dead.

You’re soft and tasty
but so mean and pasty...
You’re the butter,
I’m the bread.

My own little café

No noisy customers, no poisonous smoke from rude smokers (was it just that day?). A few books to look at, some sweets for sail. Finally, a café where children can feel good and have some room for themselves! Look for it by the main church if you happen to visit Montemor-o-Novo, in the Province of Alentejo, Portugal.

Reading: an obligation, a necessity,
a lesson, always.

Despair

Sleepless eyes
Come and cut me loose
From these fallacious ties.
Smooth, lingering shadows
Take me,
Silence me,
Lure me with your lies,
Lift me to the skies.

Jingle Bells (to be sung)

Christmas time, Christmas time
Shopping all the time!
Join the throng,
zombie-like,
party at the Mall!

Christmas time, Christmas time!
Don't you dare to hide...
Oh, what fun
it is to ride
on a one-track minded world!

(Jingle, jingle
the money in your purse;
jingle, jingle
the cash dispenser fuss!)

We wish you a merry S H O P P I N G,
we wish you spend to be kind,
we wish you come back tomorrow,
and continue as blind!

A backward poet says

Poems are wanton without rhyme,
I refuse to do that to mine.

Music demands repetition
and poetry has music in its spine,
So I repeat,
Poetry is wanting without rhyme.

A poet's complaint

I used to draw Inspiration
From being unhappy,
Derive Exultation from despair.

A twisted mind
Can turn you blind
Just as you stare into the essence of life.
And then,
To your relief,
Consciousness returns to your appeased self.
After all,
Life is merely made of slips and trips.

But then poetry is no longer available
To your hungry fingertips.

COM postagem

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Imundície

Há muitas palavras para designar muitas coisas
úteis, inúteis
e nem-uma-coisa-nem-outra.

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do que de postagem...