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Sep 2018 · 108
Marília Galvão Sep 2018
What blew me was not expected
It was not immediate
What blew me was
invasive, and yet, smooth
Like the sunlight that caresses a cold wooden floor
in the heavy breath of winter

It was not explained
It did not need to be
I knew it
the moment that sunlight sat on your skin and reflected on me.
You stayed in
Hidden in a small ceramic ***
at the back of my heart
You would dance to my music every once in a while
Until winter's last smile

I felt a calling
Got you out
And watched my soul lean curious towards your gaze  
In that Saint's square,
You were the glass of white wine bringing the changing tone of spring

Every time our eyes met
I heard the growing beating of my instincts
Asking to stay
Every time I thought of you
I read your presence
Showing the same
Losing track of time
Finding ways to be near

I'm pleased we did
In what was more than a choice, an irresistible flame
In what was more than new, a place we felt safe

I don't know how you did it
You had my soul naked even before you touched me

Never knew a feeling so warm
To hold my fears and make them understand
The best things in life are not planned
Never knew a feeling so high
That just by looking at you I can feel your whole body next to mine

...and the more I write
the more aware I become
no words can reveal
the intensity of the rays
when your lips kiss my neck
and my hands bite your back
when my head finds your chest
and your feet find my toes
when you're the reason of my laugh
and I'm the ear to your hopes
when I see joy in your eyes
and I'm the one to blame
when you show me you care
and your pleasure is my gain

...The more I write,
The more I wonder

How can I explain Sunlight?
Jun 2018 · 191
After the storm
Marília Galvão Jun 2018
it comes in threes
ruins of nothing and chaos
There's only one choice in the dark
And that is to become light

The first sparkles are shy
But they can see glimpses of colors it might find
The second glow is stirring
it does what it takes to rebuild what had been missing
With the third it's complete light
Warmth for hearts and lightness for minds
Ready to blossom, unconfined
January 2018
Jun 2018 · 774
Marília Galvão Jun 2018
No storm lasts forever
You can always look for shelter
Find a warm place to treasure

No storm lasts forever
You can always change your clothes
Ease your chills from the tempest's throes

But when the storm is in your heart,
it doesn't matter where you run to
You'll be staring at cloudy skies
Until the last piece of you fades inside
December 2017
May 2018 · 230
Cast Steel
Marília Galvão May 2018
Not for all
Be careful not to look into the devil’s eyes
boldness might get you trapped
Eternal search for light
She gets burnt everyday to feel alive

You believe her steps will be impaired
by ordinary masks
Don’t be deceived,
she’s been through the enemies’ lands
and made a trophy out of scars
She's been too far

Now she knows the road
and the kind of you who don't honour her code

She holds the truth
Locked in her chest
You can’t break through
Her fort is for guests
Her soul is dressed
armoured by cast
Jan 2018 · 182
Marília Galvão Jan 2018
The orange, fullest and most beautiful moon is impossible to see.
For it almost touches the horizon and most of us have built a wall around ourselves.
But then...
If we put our walls down, we'll be vulnerable.
And when we're vulnerable,
we                   become the moon,

'Cause the most beautiful moon is impossible to see.
#moon #connections
Jan 2018 · 2.2k
Marília Galvão Jan 2018
He came as he was
And she, as he wouldn't have imagined
Cracks of her artistic nature
Overwhelming every cell of her palm
The fragility of an inviting craziness
Captivating his instinct for drowning
her impetuous gaze
Shouting a child's malice
The absurdity of her coherence
Killing him of laughs

He read her silently, she was the book that turns off the light
of the room
The reader's, drenched in the revealed chapters

Torn between the doctrine of his sense of justice
The torment of smiles caged in 'if'

Oppressed by an unfamiliar circumstance
unpronounceable desires

Ripped between her disarming perfume
His non-existent suicidal vocation
August 2017
Jan 2018 · 270
Marília Galvão Jan 2018
I'm eager,
To rip you off my chest
With all the bleeding that would come with that
While I looked at the clock,
Slowly turning until it stopped.

Until it happens,
You'll be gripping the walls of my mind with your dark fingernails
New Year's
Sep 2017 · 202
National Garden
Marília Galvão Sep 2017
The timeless sound of buzzing, sap and tweet
Winning over the rushing clock of Athens' heat
In the garden, souls rest their busy minds
the birds
and insects
make a mess of sounds with the wind

When some humans peacefully disrupt the humming for a second,
my mind goes to the clouds.
From where I see the character...
a chubby black bird playing with dry leaves on the ground. it looking for something? maybe a lost bright feather
to regain self confidence. In vain.
Cause little does it know what's not safeguarded can't remain.
I pity it for a while as my eyes take up the sunbathed trees
and the little creature gets even closer to me.

...Here's to say that if I've ever accomplished something in life,
that is not posing a threat to a chubby black bird in its pursuing rite.

and the spectacle background,
Grasshoppers, waxwings, dragonflies, swallows and bugs
try desperately to be successful in their appearance. But they need to resign themselves to their beautiful lack of musical coherence.

I'll get down from the clouds,
say goodbye to my courageous little friend
and head to thousands of years ago.
Good luck with your feather, bro

                    ...Well, maybe it was just looking for food after all.
                we, humans, tend to complicate everything when                we have our minds in the clouds...
travel notes Greece August 2017
Sep 2017 · 236
Down south
Marília Galvão Sep 2017
The perfect union of the warmest sun and the most refreshing wind. Smiles of ex-strangers, just familiarized faces. Five minds and hearts, five vibrations and colors, an indistinct rainbow as travel companion. Life of self-absorbed villages in Kriti's heart, an old man sitting out the bar. Fast moving eyes, eager to get every single branch of olive trees passing by... and the leaves falling behind, as a continual green stripe between the light brown soil and the sky. A rawness that bites our senses and leaves us a fragment of itself without losing its eternity. Greetings from the insignificance of our moment compared to the landscape's symmetry. And yet, for us, those minutes are sealed into mortal memory. Poor leaning trees, beat by the ceaseless wind that blows in the veins of the giant island... Spectacle of colours and shadows of a sunset surrounded by hypnotizing hills. Astros gradually showing off... first is the crescent moon and its perfect curves contrasting the dark blue/grey/orange skyline... then a lonely star whose brightness outshines alone, until the grey and orange decline. And only then, with the sun long gone, and your heart in your mouth, you understand why the trees were leaning down south.
Hitting the road in Greece
Jun 2017 · 271
Marília Galvão Jun 2017
The red box's encrypted lock
Wrapped around a shield of lessons learned and time-saving wisdom
When familiar notes disclose the long hidden boiling water

It is now a release of the smell of ******,
Now a release of the humming of a playlist
Now a release of the taste of a golden perfume
Now a release of the touch of the sun
Now a release of the sight of the Pearl,
Of the girl...

And she is dragged into this pleasant hurricane

'Cause she knows is more human to taste the salt in her tongue than see grey all along

'Cause she finds pleasure and joy in the burning, bitter and blinding strike of light
Sep 2015 · 579
Marília Galvão Sep 2015
"The ambiguous intensity of looking someone in the eye, which can feel simultaneously invasive and vulnerable."

Doesn't a deep gaze carry
numerous hooks disguised as unpretentious interrogation marks?
They're faster than the blink of the eyelids,
ambitiously break into the one in front,
stealing something
not for sale in the first place.

But, you just wanted to know
...just wanted to know that sparkling little piece of life behind the curtains of the iris
Then you suddenly find yourself apologizing
It was not your intention to set your noxious questions free,
hooks of someone else's life

You smell the eyes in front of you,
You see they can effortlessly listen to your thought, which have been screaming anyway, from the windows, of your soul.
Even those ignored little parts of your soul insist on showing off

You can almost physically feel it,
streams of dense water travelling
from the very core of your cells,
going up your veins,
holding your breath for a second when passing through your throat,
until it finally reaches your pupils' edge,
where they can bluster it out
and it's gone!
You're left with the hope
that the eyes in front of you haven't seen the spectacle.
concept from
Aug 2015 · 560
Marília Galvão Aug 2015
Let my body be a battlefield for my soul.
Let my veins carry water
and mud.
Let my feet walk on air
and hot coals.
Let my eyes see infinity
and death.
Let my ears smile
with harmonious note
and bleed
with screaming throat
Let me be.
Let me be.
The fool.
The joker.
Do I contradict myself? Very well, then I contradict myself, I am large, I contain multitudes - Whitman
To define is to limit - Wilde
Jul 2015 · 654
This is not the sad poem
Marília Galvão Jul 2015
Sunlight would feed all moving creatures that day
But in that yellow building,
ice from yesterday's blizzard
still wrapped a stormy heart

It took a ride

Trees passing by
Must have been the things left behind
Delicate wind came intensely through the window
The horizon ahead, calls for whole bodies and souls,
not halves

first crack in the ice

Comfortably sit, nowhere to run
ears on the road
eyes having fun
One hand would hold the beer
The other shake impressions,
words, rhythms, melodies and questions
All sounds started to feel so clear

second crack in the ice

Such a difference
From the past usual indifference
No silence, no call-offs, no pride
And the unknown pieces of life
stroke the wall of ice

all down,

you were starting to calm the tides
but agitate the waves
it was the beginning of the warm age
Astonished, the seagull found out it was possible to turn into a trout
It seems like a great day
To go outside to play
Elements from "Famished" and "Do or do not" are brought back in this piece
Jun 2015 · 1.1k
A poet's food
Marília Galvão Jun 2015
The poem is a poet's food
Some are bread poems
Some are meat poems
Some are bread and meat poems
And some are the rare chocolate poems

She shall seek bread for energy
She shall seek meat for strength
She shall seek bread and meat for survival
And she shall seek chocolate for contemplation

The reason
chocolate poems are hard to find...

When the poet is well fed
she is ungrateful to poetry
Primary Needs scream louder
Contemplation only whispers joyful sounds

...and she must find time and silence to hear it

But that can wait,
first she will have a taste of the sandwich meal

They say the best poets are those with uninteresting lives
I say the best poets are those who eat the best food and choose to share their dessert
May 2015 · 269
Foreign Need
Marília Galvão May 2015
A bunch of anything
Doesn't make your everything

moving grounds
force you to fly

steady grounds
allow you to fly

                                                                               and come back anytime
May 2015 · 391
Do or do not
Marília Galvão May 2015
She wished to have in mind that fleeting feasts
were enough to keep the journey heading East
All nothing but mistaken assumptions,
for her body and soul had no intent of being only guests

But as it's true and fair
Being at the moment must one not spare
For only in today should all passions take part
No space for nostalgic or jittery heart

But as it's still true and fair
No passion can be felt without depth and care
For only with pieces of honest present,
Collected and fervent hearts will dare

The repeated mistake, oh dear
since no past and future is behold
It would be no bother the sudden cold

If to do or do not, you can never say
Like the shadows in a partly cloudy day
How will she decide
Whether to go outside to play or inside to stay?
Mar 2015 · 718
Marília Galvão Mar 2015
What is war? Is it a soldier dying, or guns, or bombs, or crosses, or weeping mothers, or sport, or patriotism, or valor, or high paying jobs? What is war? Not hell. For that is merely evil. War is worse than evil. It is mind-boggling suicide --mass suicide-- with humankind devouring or trying to devour itself. In vain attemps to assuage some sort of weird, innate (and apparently insatiable) appetite nurtured by our true and beloved God, Mars, we will not settle for less than the "flower of evolution" as the main course, embellished by bountiful side dishes and fanciful shakers filled with the "fruits" of our marvelous hands and big starving brains. How long will we persist in this lethal nonsense? How long before we really believe that salvation lies not in an insane paradox fostered by brute and selfish gluttony, but in the far more "nutritious" and healthful viand in the sadly neglected garden of human compassion and understanding? Considering the status of brotherhood today, possibly too long.

By Jack Kervokian
Kervokian's description of his painting 'The Gourmet (War)' -
Mar 2015 · 14.2k
Ego deconstruction
Marília Galvão Mar 2015
Now I ask you to join me
Now you celebrate
Not being me. Not being you
Only Us for the great



Some steps I will take
Be my guest
Pull your anchor
Out of the lake

In the room
In the building
In the crowded city
In the country with thousands of cities
The country shares the continent with an enemy nation
The two rivals are carried round and round by the Earth's endless rotation
The Earth obeys the master’s magnetic line, burning since uncountable clock time
The sun is blind to his insignificance too, ignoring billions of other star mates, it can’t see through
Immeasurable it seems, magnifying! All of them such tiny little parts in one of Miss Milky’s arms
Some light years away there they are: Pinwheel, Cartwheel, Black Eye, Andromeda and Cigar
Unmeasurable it seems, humongous! All of them such a fading little part of the cosmos

There you are
Floating from a distance
Feel the empty ground
Drink from the fountain of existence

Still blind to insignificance?
Still convinced about the rightness of imposed beliefs?
Still judging others’ defects according to our pretentious and vain mind?
Still punching away the different, protecting the mold?
Still reinforcing illusory antagonism and insignia?
Still seeing only two sides?
Still holding to the pride?

In the ******* room

Am I? Are you?
Let's try it again
“Travel is fatal to prejudice, bigotry, and narrow-mindedness." Mark Twain
Mar 2015 · 2.0k
Marília Galvão Mar 2015
With chords, thoughts and moves
There laid two flying creatures, they
had abandoned their shields at the front door
when the wine started playing down the walls
soaking pole to pole, they drank it
with arranged wings, the two seagulls.
Little did they know
how falsely wary were their bodies already soaked

The blue one fluttered to the north air
She looked to the sun and knew
Too late, the shield was no more in her care
When the rain started falling from conflicted clouds
in the absence of her rig
the seagull languidly tried to cease the drops.
No logic to coat the sense
All the way deceived by her ghost defense

With blurred movements in the sea carpet
there came to her sight
a savory brown trout murmuring wine memories
to the seagull and the only drive in her mind:
dip into the water;
gently slip her claws through the fish;
fiercely devour it;
until it's no longer a wish

For long she was flying up and down,
viciously all around,
the blue seagull would see images of the trout
in every fish when she was drowned.
Little did she know
the true brown to go down her throat
was by then a far away memory
of the one seagull soaked in wine
And the moves, thoughts and chords.
Mar 2015 · 339
Some lines to go...
Marília Galvão Mar 2015
State of enjoyment

In reference to William Wordsworth. Concept of "emotion recollected in tranquility"
Feb 2015 · 2.9k
Independent perception
Marília Galvão Feb 2015
Reality is simpler than it seems,
But it asks from you the clearest lens

Commonly what is seen, a Shadow:
than you
in a sunny day of true september,
an external light however

Do not dress yourself by your shadow
Feel your body,
Feel the fabric,
Put it on
Take it off
and let your truly self decide between the blue scarf or the red hat.
Feb 2015 · 613
Pleased I did not
Marília Galvão Feb 2015
I used to read overjoyed thoughts lying
while my head would stand still, and my body
I used to read humble feelings with their short arms
trying to reach the velvet and fire.

They did not

I remember the time I looked through the glass
and did not get dressed to see the lights
I remember the day I spent at home
imagining the sounds and smiles I did not witness

But days ago,
something about that burning magmountain
made me pleased

An exhilarating drive
in my tongue, hands, eyes,
ears and me
Pleased I did not have a pen
Pleased I did not think
Pleased I did not lie
Pleased I pleased you
Jan 2015 · 289
Somebody open her
Marília Galvão Jan 2015
Around the square wooden table
                                  Shared friends toasting freedom
                                  The old soul of her
                                  With door-pointed feet
Yet she can feel the comfortable chair

                            ­       Outdoors a hurricane of
                                   honey and chips
                                   soup and beer
                                   Alegrete and Trairão
                                   distracts her out of the numbness
Yet the agreement with senseless is attained

Some brains try shouting her heart
- Why don't you keep your coma?
Too stubborn to place ears on the wall
Dancing with the wild winds

Indoors, the crowd smashing pens
- Why are you so self-centered you cannot hear us?
Poor curious heart taken by mistake
As the spirit of a heartless queen
                 ­                   Locked
Feb 2013 · 572
Paradoxal Shape Relations
Marília Galvão Feb 2013
Now the objects around
They are close to me, they touch me
But no, I cannot feel them with little space
Slowly sufocating, light speed irritating

Now the objects in orbit
They are distant, the wind can blow between us
But joy, I can feel them
I see them from the far spot
Light speed perceiving, slowly breathing
Feb 2013 · 297
How sad
Marília Galvão Feb 2013
How sad is letting something special go
When you fought so hard for it
In your mind, only in your mind
How sad is pretending your choice is the best you could do

Knowing how sad you’ll remember a memory called regret
Could you keep it?
A lonely fantasy
Feb 2013 · 428
Stop feeding it
Marília Galvão Feb 2013
A chain of controversial versions of myself in a war;
It throws me back into this moment I use to call "I don't know what I'm doing"
One like me searches the perfect golden *** that is always around the corner.
What a big fancy house! Next minute it turns into dust
It makes me weaker every frustated trial, but you see... it's a circle
Suddenly I'm back surrounding the prize. God! excitement
Fantasy, shame on it!
I know what really makes you who you are, who you think you are. It says to me.
You need to set your darkness free, it will eat you up
Should I let the beast out?
Why do I keep locking it in if its only intent is cutting pieces of me, giving them to the hungry outsiders?
The answers are here, but I can't find them
I bet is because of your moral rules, my submission to your covered decents laws
Fantasy, shame on it!
Little monster go sponging another host.
Feb 2013 · 1.2k
Yelling Cry
Marília Galvão Feb 2013
Pity for the whole world now. I wasn’t enough suffering. And when I’m in, the little things become sun. They shine in my direction and they are so strong and they are so meaningful and they are so blue and noticing them is my tragedy.
I can feel the smooth wind hurting my face, why are you so gentle? You are joy of sadness, my simple need to cry out all the thorns inside, to exorcise shadows, to forget the wounds, even if they are not cured. Because when I’m in there is a grieving unknown, I can smell her, and I can see her, and I become so desperate, and I take her for me, and I like her for a moment. Then I regret it.
I feel different now, I feel repelled, I feel blind, deaf and mute. I just feel us
I pity the whole world now, I pity her
I have to leave it for a while because I’ve just forgot the wounds. For how long?


— The End —