Monthly Archives: October 2011
Gold made no longer any sense.
And the long pondered afterthought suddenly wasn’t able to contain the inevitable coup d’etat:
It was time to show the tyrant mourning of his heart what it meant to feel, to be a whole being once again.
And it were her eyes the ones to take over the throne.
Those big amber eyes, showing sincerity greater than the world’s circumference!
What ruler could be more righteous, what queen could govern with more bewildering grace?
She was the conqueror of a long-lasting temple of cold;
She was the Spring Goddess, the ultimatum of Winter.
Amber eyes, I realise, when I gaze upon you,
that there was no way I was ever letting you go.
Slender cut, splendidly shut
by spiraling on your skin tissues.
Oh, spinning rush, don’t deny me this pleasure,
this desire to crush beyond measure…
Stall the spilling of mocking splashes,
take your time to remember the whiplashes!
Do you? Do you think about the thin red lines
with scarlet little rivers streaming, dancing, laughing,
showing off how dry they can make their cries?
Swallow the shallowness of this winter flapping,
harden the softness of this moment’s feeling… Read the rest of this entry
Wavy, it lives without relying on the world at sight;
it efforts nothing to stay alive,
not understanding or breeding knowledge of what it is.
It resembles faith, but it also comes close to science;
and it quantifies the misery of its appliance.
Fear not its impact, for it is the only natural solution;
living the outworld, living the eternity of never having the need to exist.
It’s only a matter of time before it breaks into your system.
Mesmerize the signals, ignite the prowess,
make the man spit out congress aliens.
Draw them their abusive supper spells…
hop into the background, state malice proudly.
Fleeting, this memorial of a scalp…
Detour nation… detour nation…
distinguished by our mocking grins and howls.
Detour nation, we bother signing names on paper walls,
while the Devil gives us advice and we respond with singing.
Business, friend, is hiding your fatigue.
Hollow nation! Hollow nation!
This damn fog is covering up your nouns.
Alienation, when you’re framing me for love;
Framing… framing me for love!
Then stalking my sobriety,
I’m forever the host of morning lies and fake frowns.
Could you stand the fact that, every time you try to say the most desired speech, all you can utter is the spares that weren’t ripped out by your lack of optimism? And then walking away empty-handed and full of angst, when the only chance you ever had was wasted by your brilliant thoughts’ lack of orality… could you bear that feeling?
It’s impressive, really, how unstable is the state of being confident. At the swing of one or two misspoken blasphemies, you can destroy an entire year, or permanently maraud the ease of mind of another person. It’s extremely important to keep your desires clear in your mind,I’d say, were you preparing for the speech of a lifetime.
Experience in getting beat up by my own lack of faith in myself, often not misguided, taught me that, no matter how good the odds seem or how full of yourself you are, all you can really get is just one shot. Oh, and the target isn’t that obedient little red dot that sits still, waiting for the projectile to sink in its bowels. You have to be prepared, properly trained and ready to do what you must, with your desires perfectly clear: there are no second chances.
Castanho-claros, me olhavam austeros.
Perdidos, escondendo algo que eu não podia decifrar.
Resilientes, na aparência confirmados,
na ameaça do silêncio haviam ainda de revelar
o que eu não era capaz de perceber:
“Choro por nada mais que as areias da praia
com as quais sonhava em construir meu palácio de vidro.”
Tendenciava, ao recostar-se em meus ombros,
revelar tal estorvo de espírito;
mas, diria quem a conhecesse,
que ela não acompanha a maré e os ventos alísios.
Ela tem sua própria nau,
seu próprio pássaro imortal,
ela tem sua força, sem igual.
Rainha da resiliência!,
seja deste imenso labirinto
o anjo-guia enviado dos céus!
What’s the reason for that sad face, little lamb?
I thought you had had enough of bad blood for the evening, so it’s only natural that I found it strange when you touched the doorknob of a gate that had been closed for God knows how long… did you honestly think you could get me to open my heart for you a second time? Are you really that naive?
You can only ask so much from an accidental clash of antitheses. If it were that easy to get back what you lost, neither of us would be here. Wouldn’t you agree?
The temperature drops and it bothers you enough to make you fly away.
I found myself in the zero-degree winter, sweet thing,
I learned it from a snowgirl I once knew.
The wind rustles as the sky embraces the small creature,
all is still as taken is its feature.
As simple as it may be, it is a holy being;
The Starling is the Ashtray’s meaning,
as one emerging shadow caster,
and as one evicting season master.
The little bird and the shores it leaves behind
are the force of the Ashtray’s far-fetched sense of humanity.
It does not flee, nor does it hide:
its flight is but a surrealist picture of the Ashtray’s feeble sanity.
I was in a rush to leave my old school, since a bunch of police officers (dressed in American police outfits, for some reason) were chasing me around, yelling that I shouldn’t be there. I stopped by her (after I had mixed her up with someone else, who didn’t even look like her) and I turned to say something that probably had nothing to do with anything that was going on, but she stopped me and said what I think is the smartest prediction a dream ever generated:
“I was scared and afraid I might hurt you back then, and I didn’t say what I wanted to. I’m going to say to you what any friend should say: it’s not going to work with me, and you should quit, once and for all.”
Maybe it was just one of those crazy Sunday dreams, but there’s a pretty good chance that this is exactly what’s going to happen. At least I have something to begin with next time…