Somewhere in my brain, a black and white
picture glitters a vain embalmed past.
Come on, girl! Join the play, merry
you must be, all's a drollery.
Over the rainbow, you'll know, nothing waits!
Come on, girl! Join the play, for the heights!

Gritty playground, running coloured voices.
Aside, she seats wishing that someone calls.
Come on, girl! Others can notice
you, yet, silly!, you hope they will see!
Get off that uniform, stand up, reach out!
Come on, girl! Spin and sing, dance it all-out!

I only live once

- only once,
unrepeatably
by a worldly me,

- only once,
in a delusional me.

[Dedicated to our fellowpoet, The DedPoet]

Horror.
Evilness.

We throw up,
our heart
we hang in a rope of tears.

All the gods
are silent.

And blind.

We watch
ourselves,
torned,
a full pain
turning us
into
a punishing fury,
apocalyptical riders.

And then
we see them,
the children.
So restless,
fearfull,
sorrowed...

But they fell asleep.

We watch over them.

And love,
unconditional love,
a forever love kind,
overwhelming love,
makes us understand
we are needed
and we must stay
and we must be able
to learn them,
our children, our own blood,
to trust again.

And we cry
and our tears
are their protection.

And they awaken,
stirred, first,
but we hug them,
the two at a time.
No words are needed.
Just love.
They will know
it is the real thing.

the night in turmoil
a bumble jumble fumble
of croaks, hoo hoo, purrs, stridulous chirping

then a sudden cringe, ******!,
shush shush
hush, gurgling creek,
hush, whiffled leaves

clippety-cloppety
clippety-cloppety
clok clok clok

a schwing, zing, zip
and a plunk
and a plonk
in a whoosh
and then a scrunche scrunche
and

clok clok clok
clippety-cloppety
clippety-cloppety

silence burbles

tick tock tick tock

shh, shh,
listen:

a sluggy chugalug
and a fuzz of tiny tunes:
a yelp, a eep

stilness

a purr a buzz
putt putt putt
slowly back in motion
the burbles, whiffs, croaks,
the stridulous bumble jumble
of a crickety night

Did you ever spill salt
over a slug, saw it being ****** up?

Did you ever take a flame
near a spider, saw it being twisted?

Did you ever scold a kid
in a grounding voice, saw his will grinded?

Senseless time, senseless routines,
senseless solitude: salt, flame, grind.

Can anyone pass me the pepper, please?
I'll fade in the chill but in a spicy hot blast!

i tried, oh i tried
to reach out

did you not
notice?
the hummingbirds!

still

this metallic cold
of not belonging

never again
to be kissed

Lit me up, yes he did, in colour,
all shinny, smile up, in collar.
So he did, lit me up,
hanged up, candle tree!
Short circuit, he flashed, end of war.

spoiler alert: #implicitly mature, in some way...#


TAKE 1
a bench. a garden.
the guy: *yeah, ***, to **** my way through,
so, i'll be on my way.
the girl: (silence).
close-up: the guy, his back.
fade.

TAKE 2
a car. in the front seats.
no sun set.
the girl: yeah, but it is not worth it, so.
the guy: yeah.
panoramic: a street. cars passing by.

TAKE 3
total darkness.
a voice whispers a scream.
the guy: why can't i *******?!
the girl: (silence).
total darkness.
the guy again.

TAKE 4
a river. a wooden fence.
the girl. leaning.
close-up: her hands.
the girl: (silence).
her hands. a cat comes by.
the cat moves away.
panoramic: the river, the back of the girl.
high noon. no shadows.

Daddy's little girl
is dancing in the yard.
Daddy, look at me.
Dad is long dead, now.
I am dancing, she says.
She spins, clamsy,
pirouettes,
bows,
pas de deux by a single.
Daddy, look.
Skies are wide blue
and the girl is spinning,
the globe under her feet
goes round and round,
faster and faster
and then
she jumps
to the other side of the moon,
unseen darkness in blue light.
Daddy, I am sorry,
I will dance no more.

I was feeding
my heart on iron
to have it sunk
in a river bed

when it turned
into a dandelion,
blown away
in a stirred tide
of wishing you.

It spread all over,
its blossom, a velvet sigh,
winded by the wings
of a humming bird.

pantagruelian wait
for the roundness to
burst in pink flesh

a first kiss for air depriving
a first taste of cherry flesh
a first burble of soft bones

insomnia
ghostly walk
amongst the sleepers

hushed scaly sound
driving lights fleeing
an image on a mirror

flashing moments
scattered memory screeching
rowdy cradling
                       dawn
                                dyed in red

feverish, are we?,
don't panic, sweetie,
it's just a warmy bath,
here we go,
salty, right?,
and spicy,
yummy

- This feeling inside...
A sea sickness,
butterflies swirling
inside...
oh my...

- Hush hush,
my carving is almost done!

- Hey, birdie! Birdie!!

- Who is this, calling me?

- Would you sing me a song,
stand by me tonight?

- Sure, honey, but I have to tell you:
in a first date, my starter' always the guts!

[http://hellopoetry.com/some-person/]

dear some person,

i am but a reader unknown,
like any other
you talked to, in that
flight, when no perfect girl
sat next to you.

It was your birthday
and you were thinking
about your father,
finding out he loves you,
and in your mind
you were worrying about
your friend, living far away,
drifting in his own family life.

Remember that voyage?

i am still voyaging
coming back from your poems

you know there is this thing
going on at HP
and i figured it would be nice
to find someone here
for the first time
and so i rouletted the pages
and yeah found you
some person
and somehow i felt
related to your pen name

and then i read all your poems

yes, all of them

and i can only wish
that one day, suddenly, you will
realise you are already writing
love poems for someone new
someone worthy your heart
your sensitivity and your
serenity

some perfect girl
who will listen
to the depth
and warmth
of your voice,
your voice
bringing to life
your whole you,

some perfect girl,
with all the
imperfections
you will know how to love,

some perfect girl
to piece you together.

all the best,
chimaera

ps
=D
please find the strength to do the laundry and to get rid of the yard junk and to go out for a ride in the sun, it will be so much likely to find the girl...!

in this intangible world
i wander

(wording daringly
a make believe voice
trying the allure of poetry)

and come across
depicted landscapes
heartfulled universes

in this intangible world
i wander

yet
in the ending day
i look for
this velvet red
with a deeply lasting
bouquet of life exhortation

in your poetry

as in the portuguese red wine you like

and i seat back
dreamy
wrapped in this
sense of fulfilment

smiling at a giant
kneeling to a child
with dawn syndrome

a constructeur of love
abdicating judgement and prejudgement

crying alone for anger drainage
finding plenitude in a woman with his height
escalating an iced mountain
travelling ages in the winged tree
that waves by the window
considering far in the height
the ways of the worlderly life

in this intangible world
i wander
with your poetry echoing
and wondered i understand
how a heart grows humanity
and it feels like crying
to believe
in the tangibility of love

I wish words
could carry me in
and someone
could sense
the swirl
in the afternoon breeze
and gently
pick me
in a butterfly net
and map my colors
and have my contour
as a sextant for life.

once i married my father
he was such an handsome man

can't you feel
the scent of flowers

anointed in extremis
cryogenically preserved
drowned stillness

i grow flowers
can't you feel the rosemary

once i loved a boy
what was his name

oh the yarn
all knotted

I ran out of words.
No... not words.
I ran out of feelings.
Although...
I ran out of purpose.
Okay, let it go.
I ran out on purpose.
Nope.
This is not it.
It rains. In me.*
There.

the wormy crawling

carving
pricking

a swarm hum
this sick agony
of stone wet cold

wrackful certitude
of the unseen

a pebble amongst pebbles
found to be thrown far

forgotten

Yap, tale,
me the dog
(here, a wow, what? please),
in circles we go,
a merry go round,
if only I could be
the ballerina...,
oh but no,
I can't dance,
not allowed,
I just turn and flip,
yap, flipped mind,
chasing a tale,
round and round,
I use words for a rebound,
winded up, in shall not.

castaway i foster my horizon
in shaded bows of silenced colours
castaway i foster my horizon

a shattered moon dilutes its glow
stills the humming river, its restless flow
in shaded bows of silenced colours

suspended willows wave a melancholy
in a lullaby for the unborn me
stills the humming river, its restless flow

dark hills and far echoes of loss and shall
faded memories in paused negative
in a lullaby for the unborn me

hirsute halt of uneasiness in being
almshouse but serving you not your wish
faded memories in paused negative

shattered humming of drifting glow
castaway i foster my horizon,
almshouse but serving you not your wish
castaway i foster my horizon

16.11.14

Charcoal trees
crowned in
greenish grey,
diluted in mist;

glitten dew, spilt
by sword shaped ferns,
bruising in yellow
the bushy scented moss;

likens' frozen tracery,
gothic earthly waves,
bursting gloomy barks
into shades of red and sand;

in a friable sunbeam,
a swirl of a honey bee.

Salty,
like a misty drizzle
by the sea;
sour caramel,
a dark harsh yellow;
a silky roundness
of reddish sweet

- tickling lust.

i turn around,
pretend i don't see,
and then i forget
about it.

as simple as that.

i know i'll die
alone. we all do.
me, i will not know
if i have lived.

that's hell, they say.

old town center

cobbled streets

my presence echoing

in the temple

walking the aisle

stepping on faded graves
of knights and earls

left candles burning

for the ghosts in my history

You can hear me, can't you?
can't you
I want you to be like this. See?
see
No, you do not want that.
that
Who am I? Who am I?
i
You'll never get there, never!
never
Just be quiet, really!
really
You're such a mess. You'll never be loved!
*loved

That circle, realm
of light, made of,
you know,
words crawling,
making gullies
to melt you in,
me, bursting,

see?,

slowly claimed
by a lunar me,
globbing, sobbing,
mourning the me
i forged within you.

(spoiler alert: explicit, or whatever...)*


my hands,
cup shaped.
your warmness.
the pace of your
fleeing heart.
your *******,
naked, nibbled,
in my cupped
hands.

equidistance
of time, in
non leaning hemispheres.
paradoxical spring tide.

vortex, inward.
the self-made envision.
ah, the coherence
of this dystopia...

outward, drafting
the latter.
outsiders' crayons.
ah, not a bid, the least.

the randomness of intersection.

what to do, what to do?

accept.


i am tangential.

and so what?

I take my pencil
and draw two lines,
two points of escape
into the horizon line.

I draw a road
to walk through
the white blindness
of time.

I picture myself
on the road,
two points of leakage
behind, to drain the void.

Happily I get lost,
in the round bend of the road,
and become a hobo
in a new found equator.

none of it
is meant
the way
it feels,
it makes
me feel.

the real thing?
but a cold dish.

i hate emptiness.

time to move.
void is always
vacant.

oh yes,
said the painter,
i've had
a bird phase,
but the pane
was a blur.
and the canvas,
one shade of white,
that's my drill
on blind wings.

I wonder... Have you
aged enough, upon grief,
came to love this matching heart?

the unwise sigh in my eyes dyes the skies*

in your eyes
i dive

my prize
all the skies

in silky ties
i fly i rise

i improvise
unwise

and revise
that high

who cries
in the height
of that sigh?

not my i's

your eyes, aye,
without my dyes

the unwise sigh in my eyes dyes the skies

Once upon a time,
there was a turtle
who grew a carapace
for a hundred years
of slowing pace.

In its prudence,
that most mistaken
as enlightenment,
the tortoise often
admonished a bumblebee
hummingbird:

"- All that buzzing
and vivid colours,
do you believe
the honey of life
is for you to sip?"

And the hen,
circling by,
assented,
beaking its hunger
in the dirt.

One day
the tribe elder
crossed their path.
He roasted the chicken,
plumed a hat
with the humming colours
and threw in the fire
the turtle shell
to read futures to be
in its crackles.

Then came an era
of starvation
and men rummaged
the dirt and in misery
many claimed for
holding back the pain.
Painted in vivid red,
the children learned to sing.

All the rivers i longed,
a moist slightly rehearsing
dawn's dew, a glitter yet to be;

every shade of crimson
i concealed, sinking
the horizon in cooled suns;

each word i teared apart,
the weight of emptiness
forbidding to dare

- all i've declined
willingly
resigning life,

i have taken, to draw
a shore, your outline,
and, clandestine,

i watch, as the rain
washes away the horizon,
in the other side of the mirror.

words like

whispers,

wondering
hawlings
in the corners
of houses in ruins.

words
like whispers,
the turmoil
of an aphasia.

inner-body
experience.

slow motion.

whispers.

fireflies
blown out
by nightly fingertips.

knowing not
how to unknow.

words like
whispers.

words
silently shouting
in turmoil.

thoughts,
speeding,
a fuzz of neon lights,
a buzzing of highways,
what was what i was to do?,
chocolat, please,
or not,
a gag upon it,
a shut down,
oh the vertigo
of the echoes,
have a drink,
red velvet wine,
your lips, lend me
your tongue, oh my,
delusional again,
okay,
one, two, three,
what?, counting helps,
or maybe going alphabetically
through words, a for
whatever,
hey, who cares,
let it be,
no train is endless
(hopefully)

pots and pans.
the radio is on.
the curry
fills the air.
vivid red
and dark
orange silk
float around
a porch,
you'd gift me
mangoes,
ripe mangoes,
this sweetness,
this yearning.
pots and pans.
the radio's mute.
time to stir.

sand castles
& autumn leaves,
bygones
on yester
& days never to come

- none of that.

but
to grow back
where to
you never belonged,

wordless,

'cause you see it
clearly, now,

- that forgettable,
erasable you.
deleteable,
not delectable.

oh terminators
of seek and hope...

i tried. i did.
ran out of words.
drained.
so...

They say
rêverie
made
the human heart.

I say
we first unfolded
our heart
gazing at trees.

Hypnotically
we watch the dancing leaves,
waving green,
flamboyant canvas,
single brown hanging on.

Delusionally,
we learn the longing,
we portrait our storms,
we are taught transitoryness.

Is this not
why, as a child,
we handed leaves
- the most special ones -
to eternity,
in between the pages
of our favourite books?

the day you thought
it out
i can imagine
it not

but today
no doubt
with words
i play

and on friendship
i am taught
and to this heart of mine
i try to grip

thankful i say
are we for this world
a home in the whirl
of silent frozen cold

death.

a loss of vision,
there,
in the corner.

a corrosive lack,
purpose and sense
lost in the way.

another step,
suspension.

feels like it is time.

wrapping time.

making a fire
with all the debris.

Hey, hey, gather around,
ashes went cold and the wind blows!

Of toads and kisses, green peas and geese
i bring you no news, but of the fair lady
hidden in closure, cinderella her given name!

We all know how dazzling
in the ball she showed;
his hand in her waist,
oh, they could have danced
all night and a life!

Here is the true story yet untold:
the charming prince, you see,
left with a single shoe,
soon found another fit

for standardised shoes
- just that size! -
walked by in all feet.

And so the blond cinderella
turned grey and his gown
lost the diamond gloss;

her heart was handcrafted
- oh, but not easier than a shoe
to be shown as the true one!

The prince grew into a king,
his wife  launched a fashion
shoe line (CEO the godmother!),

cinderella kept being... cinderella,
in all lights and nights; maybe
you've seen her, wandering in wonder...