chemical elevation.
we discussed myth entourage -
my father’s idea of myth is halted
when his own legacy comes into play -
she says it’s out the door,
I say it just walked out bigger,
maybe, but it’s just
good car conversation,
no greek allowed.

seek the chemical elevation.
the sky cog burning wheels
howling in the night with the meek.
Dreams become blisters,
beacons become road signs,
we skip leg days,
AI skips darwinism
and peer-reviews poems.

We’re building a boat
against the sea,
the wood from the old one has age rot
and lost its heart
to the bucolics of the captain.

Autumn again,
as expected.

The old are gone,
and now their hubris burns
on our youthful years.

The weight of spring is light.
One day, we'll remember it
and share a laugh.

I have the soul of a drunk.

Her legs spread out,
all silence and no heart.

Sometimes home comes to mind.

Standing in marble awe,
contemplating this winter night,
my soul searching continues,
ruining the age of another wine.

Walk with me, in the maze park.
The north will settle,
we'll light another cigar.

Here lies, optional,
my emotional litter -
the tiredness of
walking over water
and taking over the sins.

Paying no mind to this finite state -
the gone moment of our walk
lingering on the shoulders
of my solitude.

See, these are simple equations,
and they are my solace -
the exciting unknown
divided by knowledge.

This is dawn setting on someones window,
yet to bloom, yet to rise.

There’s no crime
in writing.

It has always been here:
the thrill of choosing the words
that benefit other words the most.

There’s a simple rule in writing
(maybe the only 1):
A thought comes out
and hopefully, when written down,
turned into strings of words,
the idea it provides may
provoke
an exciting way of
seeing the world.

Sometimes it happens.
Sometimes, it never does.

To some, words are enough.
Others need music or imagery.

I guess to each his own
and that might serve the truth
that we, each of us, are
Unique
and that in our
Differences
we get excited by our own
Differences,
which in turn provide us of our own
Uniquenesses.

But whatever:
I say what I say, at the end of the day.
And your judgement
is your own.

Still, truth be told,
no harm done
in letting it all out,
all at once.

To me,
words are this:
the perimeter of reason.

And if you solve the puzzle
and order them correctly,
you can calculate the area
of the entire universe,

and no more will you be lost
in its complex mysteries.

I remember the most beautiful moment of my life.
I couldn't have been 4.

Everybody was gathered in the park,
a gathering to watch the sunset
and there was music playing.

This was a single moment lost in the 90s fever:
The singer had just died,
and I think we were celebrating his poetry
or his clinginess to life.

But at the same time, nobody was talking about it.
There was just silence and the sunset -
a meaningless collection of sensations
to all but a childish mind.

I've since tried to talk to some of the people I reckon were there,
but none of them recall any of it happening.

They would have me believe
the best moment of my life
was a dream.

in a mental december haze
looking out the window for my love.
it's the falling season
of motions in the leaves that gather around
and cover the ground,

and the lost road now belongs
to those whose feet wander around
not searching for nothing,
yet finders of all that is worth.

music is
rain
mingled with the sun.

I remember a day
when purpose could be found
with ease,

now, I strive:
what once was winter love
has touched the summers of my life
and forever molded the seasons.

poetry became too personal.
At some point,
the pain was too real when
put into words,
and that is why
I turned to music.

When making music,
your feelings are also mingled
with the notes,
and you don't feel any pain.
It's incredibly beautiful,
just like a poem,
but it doesn't hurt you.

But I can't stop to wonder
that all these things are a filler
to hold on on this ever maddening road,
until the time is right for us to meet again.

because that's where my life really shines, right?
I won't remember the filler days.
I live for the moments that we create together,
and maybe the art that I produce out of it.

But that's it,
sadly... or happily.

I know I'd trade it all -
the most beautiful poem or melody,
it doesn't mean a thing to me
when put next to what you mean to me.

And maybe we could forgive
the days
we wasted away from each other,
longing to be
surrounded by each other's arms.

Oh and perhaps we could
start again
all over
like a newborn cloud
in the empty blue
of a sky

Yes. I'd like that.
I'd make it possible any day,
if it was up to me.

Renewal.

Darling, the road was
full
with other places to go to,
and as you know
sometimes we lose the track of time
and the track itself
becomes another road.

I'm sick of conquering the world
with art
and my eloquent speech that never
left the paper,
where it was carefully crafted
and refined.

I need nothing. I am what I am
and I conquer a part of reality
with that that I am.

If you love me now
drop a letter.
This is the real me. Feel it.
A weird beauty of being alive
by your side.

If you love me as I am now,
you are a fool,

because the real me
is out there, somewhere,
waiting to be reinvented
by endless roads.

I only ask you
to be a part of those endless roads,
and forget the first and the last kiss,
and love me in between.

Overwrite moments w/ 1s and 0s,
in binary mood,
until love is gone for good.

Do you remember when we
were 1 amongst many 0s?

What was once the sound
of a smile in your laughter,
tied together by sine waves,
will become empty 1s, empty 0s
after we press ‘Y’.

And the machine will
wipe the sectors for days,
until the cycles become unreadable,
and that’s when
our love will truly be gone for good.

Like a puzzle you try to solve
with the wrong pieces.

And now smashes the hammer.
Only the hit will tell
how gone for good our love will be.

dawn on the backyard.
No guarantees
that it will be a hot
summer's day.

I am here. Not a sparrow
with a song,
not a pigeon with a
poem attached
to an unwilling paw.

Just walking the walk,
reading out loud
to children,
trying to mark
their childhood,
to dwell there,
forever
as a strange familiar
face,
friendly memory.

I said I'm no one.
Just someone with a song.
I miss the old feeling
of being kissed by the world.

I had more,
I just don't carry these words
anymore.

I am here. Surrounded by
a universe that holds
itself
in a mysterious pose
inside
a magic box.

but I know
what I must do.

I won't chase its tail,
and walk my own trail,
and that's when
it will reveal itself to me.

To see a fraction
of the world:
so many different people
and all of them
have something to tell
a poem of their own,
and sometimes you just want
to stop it all
and go to them
and grab that poem
and read it

but poetry doesn’t work that way,
and so you wait
for the poem to unfold.

Wouldn’t you rather
turn the winter
into summer

and make the rain stop,
and make the sun last?

The sun will last
as long as you keep
smiling towards its light.

I just wanted to come
and wish you well.

Farewell.

Sometimes it just doesn’t happen,
the kiss I had for you.

She walked in the café
and asked for a red apple,
and I was sitting there,
falling in love,
with a green apple on my hand.

We eyed each other, as man and woman do,
and we laughed at each other’s apples
holding an ‘hello’ still to come.

Gentle the rain
Gentle.

Don’t hide your smile
If you don’t like when
The sun hides in the clouds.

Your smile warms my days,
Just like the sun of a blue sky.

Before I burn
This diary,
I will gently
Rise my bent knee
And name you
My humble wishes:

Offer me sanctuary.
Be my peace of mind.
Grant me your summer smile
In days of wintery rain.
I will faint and return
By the grace of your autumn air.
I will beat the wind
That rises tides out of your kind hearted soul.

I want to fall asleep
And feel the sun on my face
Sheltered in your arms,
Caressed by your fingers.

I will greet many days
And reach out many smiles
If the only life I have left
Remains blessed
By your presence,
My love.

how many sunrises is a lifetime worth?

The spontaneous momentums
of my wild laughter
try to keep up
w/ all these insane rides of my life.

I know me well and I lack discipline.
But that won’t mean a thing tomorrow,
because I’ll live more, and I’ll know better.

When you and I talked for hours on end
we sheltered on each other’s hopes & dreams,
and promised never to fear crossroads in our journey.

We let go of that strange need for constant presence,
because where there is friendship, there is a place
with warmth enough to sleep by the fire.

When you came to me in tears, lost in your own world,
I talked you out of it and showed you mine,
and you smiled: “How can you be so happy?”

And I said:
“I choose the color of my days.”

The universe was a given
from the get-go,
and we are flowers that can choose
to grow, each day.

It has been said before
many times
by different words,

but happiness happens.

when dawn arise,
I will forget who I am
and kiss the earth.

I might smile a thousand suns
and cry a thousand moons.

If it’s all the same to you,
I’d like to be alone
until our time feels right.

You were the dream I never expected to come true,
but now you are here.

I am blessed:
The dawn is rising with you.

I write to you again, friend.
Before the end of winter,
I hope we can look back
to the sweet recollections
of another season.

I learned that
there is a place called home
which brings me great comfort
by the fireplace, where hearth is endless.

But now that
the heady days of spring are near,
I must say I'm relieved from chopping wood
and throw salt into the fires.

I'm confident that
every season is a blessing and a curse,
that the music is loud or low according to our dancing feet
and everyday is a painting of many true colors.

So it does not mean more than a second of a minute
that we are here again, at the edge of ourselves, of life.
I'm in love with all that I can love,
and making love last is all that matters to me.

I'll always near you with a soft smile and eternal grace,
because I have a light that shines around me
and you have it too, if you believe that
life is as fair as you let it be,
and the world will become yours in your own way,
because all you see is yours, for that beautiful
precise moment in space and time
where your eyes touch the light,
and that same light is born again, out of darkness.

if I could
rule your days,
I'd craft a sun
just to measure
the shadows
of your dreams.

the ring that ruled
before dawn and day,
o'er summer & an old sun
with its shafts of remebrance;

shall it remain in middle-earth
and the Dark Lord will feed upon all that is green;
shall it become fire from the mountain
and fair lairs will tremble with the wind of age.

but what is to be must be;
all we have left is what we always had:
the power of a single day that is given to us -
one road to fulfill, to live, and to love.

As I write ifs and elses
& grab some dreams
out of the shelf,

I am struck by
a miracle with beautiful legs.

I am struck again
by a feather with a soft spring song.

And I lose my mind
to these little things that belong
to that time before summer.

The melody that echoes in my humming
and your beautiful uncompromising pace
send my spinning wheel of emotions
to never ending places.

To love you is to write you down,
word for word, until the pen loses its ink,
and another days goes by in dazes
and it could rain deserts for all I care.

All of the sudden,
my poem gets touched by other,
and that’s how poetry is made,
you see?

She lives in all of us,
somewhere, somehow,
waiting to be unfolded.

And the day will come
that the best poem will come bursting
out of an entire life of compilations.

Woman, you are my poetry
and my poetry is yours forever,

since that green distant summer
when all else was set to remain
untouched & preserved

by the flower of
youth.

bitterness will **** you
faster than a cigar.

a sad childhood
or a bought one,
hard school days
or sweet sixteen lies

the cigar burns all those
days away;

they never think
you can go as far as to think
that perhaps your life
is yours to live.

With night lies a watchful sight.
Breathing lungs waiting in detox -
does it hurt to be out of the center,
on the edge of dawn, another door,
oh life could be so much more.

(black dragon under ceiling.)

She waits because she has the time;
My kid, again, returning home,
lazy school days, nothing could hold me on;

(and it dawned on me that my time, I wasted it on a dream.)

Friday ate ice cream watching the sunset,
I took her for a walk around the citadel;
Ran for miles during my youth, wasting all away,
but Time on this life is our great illusion.

New kids at the playground,
where I used to play one day.
Now, school days are over
even though I miss them so.

I took my soul elsewhere, beyond,
and I don't care where I'm going.

No, I don't care, where I'm going,
because I know I'm not going
I'm not going anywhere.

your hardest days
are the ones you really feel alive.

to be deprived of challenge
in exchange for a comfortable life
can seem a reasonable thought,

but it doesn't make for a much interesting story,
and life without stories to tell is no life at all.

so let the rain fall in your face, once in a while,
and go to nowhere, see where it's at,
and maybe on your way back
you'll find that the rain doesn't bother you anymore,
and that maybe that's because of the new you.

I left home to search for an endless road
and I will go wherever it may take me.

Through visible and invisible,
I'll rain new rivers out of many seas,
and sleep deep dreams under the willow trees.

Through sunless mornings and many nightfalls,
I'll wander true places that host lair to thousands of tales,
and all this I'll do while erasing my trail.

Because once I take these many roads of life,
I can't come back home
to be the same that I was when I left.

The spontaneous momentums of my wild laughter
try to keep up
with all these insane rides of life.

I know me well and I lack discipline.
But that won't mean a thing tomorrow,
because I will live more, and I'll know better.

When we talked for endless hours about
the people that made us who we are,
we found shelter in each other's hopes & dreams
and promised to never fear crossroads in our journey.

We let go of that strange need for constant affection,
because where there is friendship, there is trust -
there is constant love and a place to sleep by the fire.

The music was loud, but we listened.
And I guaranteed to you that happiness could never be found
outside your kind soul.

That all that you needed was already yours
and many good people failed to see that
simple truth.

That the universe was a given
from the get-go,
and that from then on we could become anything
we ever wished upon.

That you and I and the whole world
are flowers that can choose to grow, each day.

And maybe the sun will never know our names,
but he will always be here
to guide us in our every road.

sunset pressed against a window.
In a city so full of goodbyes
an Hello must rise
and give birth to a revolution.

we live to see forever
and watch it unfold;
we live to die
just for one day.

she got her blue eyes
from a dream.
she never is, she always was,
she seldom is anywhere.

jumping out of the fryin' pan,
my girl knows where I'm coming from.
I hope her fire will last

and her raw soul will open to me
secrets & musings & reveries,
but I'll never burn out. I'll always be free.

highway without cars,
but condensated dreams
scattered all over the road.

past is the future,
ahead the unknown,
the road is neverendless.

Collages of stars
that sustain
some Western Dream.

Living off of tuna cans,
there's my dream, stumbling on the floor:
the carpet reads 'HAPPINESS HAPPENS'.

I write better when I don't write
with a sense of purpose.

You'd think there'd be more to it.
But no. It's just words, man. They can only
take you so far without your feet.

And it may be to me
the same that is to you.

The rain outside, I open the door
& let my loved ones shelter inside.

And just like that,
with all the mercury in my blood,
I leave the door opened.

Do prefer love
over the complicated questions.
A blindfold is
the only truth you should care to know.

Desire for my body to warm your soul
& reach out for a fire that won't burn.
I'll wander our souls to places
where rock rolls all day long.

Unplug my cruel heart
and leave the good side
to rule over my deeds,

and all I'll ask of you in the between
is a fair song
& the sound of your laughter
blowing in the wind.

But if it gets hazy & distant,
I'll do what I do best:
I'll rewind the road
& walk over the old one.

gonna hold my soul
to the devil untold;
just a cup of coffee
and you'll never know.

they wait and they wait.
If only they learned how to bend the winds,
their ships would go anywhere.

out in the meadows.
Cars will stop as I cross
the street of dreams.

Collages of stars
that sustain
the Western Dream.

So I'm living off of tuna cans.
The metallic garbage smells of
salty water & broken shards.

I'm too old to be young,
too fragile to stay out in the night
when all I want is a good joke to laugh at
instead of a bad morning story.

I write better when I don't write
with a sense of purpose.

And I like it.
The rain outside, I open the door
& let them shelter inside.

And just like that,
with all the mercury in my blood,
I leave the door opened.

I composed w/
body & soul,
but it wasn't enough.

I touched perfection
and burned my finger.
I'll never do it again.

I am Love. I am enough.
Waiting for the rainbow,
no, I'll bow the rain on my own.

I kiss your raw lips
and say goodbye.
The sun has yet to rise.

Let us walk in peace
with the morning star.
We should make love & die.

We shoud live life every day,
not just for some day.

Love. Love. Love.
Sweet darling, I’m here,
by the fog, by the light.

With you here,
Time lies within Time
and ages slip away into seconds,
and seconds turn into Love,
which will feed on my soul for all time.

The entire sky collapsed in its clouds,
as if life were a dream never to be reckon with.

In all fairness, I have been shown what love can do:
it can do more than anything you can ever imagine.

And I did, I did. And I done it again.
After all, the universe wasn't programmed.
So I did what I could: I grabbed love & loved myself.

When the day comes
I'll put out my pipe
and watch the sun go by, all the same.

Yes, the thing with dreams is
you never know when or where.
The good news is, neither do they.

The day comes to never return again.
The sun that shines will be the same tomorrow -
but all else & the world belongs to you.

someone once told me
the sweet bird of youth
would last forever

and I guess she meant it,
in a puzzled kind of way,
you see.

just like a pretty flower needs
to be watered and loved to grow,
the sweet bird of youth needs
constant spring
and warm winds
if it's meant to last... forever.

The El Dorado lies at the
gates of Eternal Bliss,

but that also lies on the other side
of morning,

and the white horizon seems so distant
and uncertain in the fog.

Ah. Well...

Some other time, maybe.
If they do stick around forever,
sooner or later, we'll get there.

To stare an eclipse
from the shore;
lines begin to draw
an horizon in the mist.

I can touch the ship
with my own eyes;
I can move it to another channel
& break the couirse of the wind.

And I am myself, again -
wishing away, killing the day
waiting for dawn to light my way.

But I'm on my own, now.
Worlds will collide and windows will shatter,
and doors will open, dreams will come true.

And the stars and the moon and the world -
They will grow fond of me.

when the lights go down low
my feet will shake to that sweet sunny glow.

when that good ol' jazzy jazz spurs into my thoughts
my one and only concern will be not to stop.

when I’m taking that kind of high
I swear I don’t, I don’t need to know why

but I know this:
when that feeling of bliss arrive
I'll know for sure why I'm alive.

home is where
the soul is warmer.

home is where
the sun is the sunniest.

home is where
the world ends and begins.

the old heavy sinking sun rised
and all dawn's doubts were gone
with the morning star.

os muros da cidade estão
pintados de poesia,

pintados de palavras rudes
que revelam os sonhos
de cada alma.

Esses são os sonhos da cidade
e todos eles se tornam
num só.