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.

when day is done
the sons of metalurgy
will return home -
dusk upon their shoulder
and a sharp eye
looking for trouble.

but time flows ever onward
and many more twilights
will show.

the search will feel ancient
and the chest of memories
will weight a lifetime.

she and the moon glare in the distance:
how many dreams it will take
to walk the one and only road?

god is in the people.

if you don't believe in god,
believe in the people.

as if one's soul was already dark
from the light of dawn.

Scattered all over the floor,
I secretly picked up pieces of your infancy.

the jazz in the car
moves the wheels.

the highway for
the end of summer.
the purple sunset rains
cascades of stars.

The dices,
They don't roll anymore.

the beauty of any road is that
it leads to everywhere,
if you dig its trail.

the search for another search
stirs my heart & soul,

but I keep on going
for the laughs.

it was ten years gone.
I was just a kid in love.
The idea of love was a playground.
Love was an idea, for a kid.
I knew ****.

Still.

Must have been pretty strong
to last to this day.

I sipped many beers on my way back home.
Kind of makes you feel sometimes
the road could just go on, in motion, without a safe net,
without the safety of a way back home.

As if yesterday never came
and tomorrow never went
to that radioactive place
where love is lost
where love is found.

the most beautiful of all
lives as if childhood was today -

and the sun would still rise in the morning
even in her death.

sometimes you will find that
love and hate can be found
in the same place

and that, sometimes, the hardest thing to do
is to love and carry on.

night gave us a chance
of another sunrise.

everything I see, I want, I love.
she does too, in some weird way
of existence.

smile and gazing,
we're two, but never forget the world.
we miss the sunlight if we keep the door shut.

now you have a day to live
and you can make that day
the best day of your life.

I'll be waiting for you on the other side of the night;
All my days are the best days of my life.

open your window and let autumn come in.
then, prepare a cup of coffee and let him
scatter your books all over the floor.

the endless run began at the age of 18.

he was sitting on the rooftop of his infancy
wondering if he was still the same -
he was.

once the sun rises, it will rise again -
only the wise know this.

"Alchemy is the rainbow that bridges all that is earthly and ephemer to all that is heavenly and eternal. It's the bonding of matter and spirit. The desire for a perfect life that can only be achieved through knowledge.

Alchemy is the union of life and death to fullfill a more fundamental purpose: that of the creation. To create life from nothing."

“A alquimia é o arco-íris que une tudo o que é terreno e efémero aos planos celestes e eternos. É uma mistura de matéria e espírito, de querer e de saber. É a união da vida e da morte no seu mais perfeito sentido de existência: o da criação.”

travelling down the highway
around mountains and walls of stone,
watching that beautiful spanish sun go down

another moment that goes on
to fulfill its nature
and become object of nostalgia.

travelling in this life,
gathering nothing but
beautiful sunsets.

poems are
translations of your soul to the real world -
the echoes of something you once felt.

strong feelings and memories
often produce the most beautiful pieces of poetry.

no wonder we write so many love letters.

sleep under the tree
like children lost
in the wild summer
of infancy.

there’s a moon out there
that shines in the sun.

o the musing philosophies
I’m so infinite
and I didn’t know what I could
but I can Oh I will Someday.

only I can stir her soul.
only she can move my pen.
she says it’s her scent
I think it’s her touch.

step inside the abyss -
there’s a labyrinth there
where you can free yourself
& lose everything else.

you’re so infinite
you really didn’t know.

There is no other way. Either you forget the lies you've been fed all your life or waste yourself away, to chase a fabricated truth.

Man is only free when he breaks up with those lies, when he denys everything and becomes ruler of his own reality -  but that demands sacrifice, and is harder than anything imaginable. In fact, it could well be the hardest thing you'll ever have to do in your life: to demolish an entire temple and be left with nothingness.

It means you must be able to see yourself for what you truly are and accept that your reality is what you make of it.

It also means you must be prepared to blame yourself for your failures, just as you would eagerly blame yourself for your successes.

Those who believe that man can rule another man, that lust and feasts are the answer to solitude and boredom, that love can be bought and worn like a badge for the world to see.

Those who name a king a king, who give church the greenlight to do their bidding. Those who fiercely believe that man has what it takes to wield the gods and bestow their will.

Those will say many things to contradict your reality and your dreams, because their reality and dreams are the greater good. Those that see you and me like a means to an end. But we can spot them. Their system is flawed, and that would be ok: because man is flawed. But they won't accept their own reality. They will remain untouched, in ther little shiny rooms with mirrors. Twisted until the end.

Well, it's your death in the end. That's all you should know, all you should care about. It should be enough to tell you what kind of life you need to live. Because all else is a farse.

What the other writers of past centuries have wrote is true. And the truth prevails anything. No matter how many generations pass and take the wheel, the sullen play goes on, with or without you.

Your dreams will be crushed, and your failures noticed.

But you only lose if you give a ****.

she is by the window.
she seldom is anywhere.

she has a poem inside her,
waiting to be written.

her eyes a thousand nights
that seek to rise -
to gather all the stars.

To **** the dream
is to **** the self -
the suicide of days.

Imagine a life
where your only dream
is to dream,

where you live unaware
of something else, better.

What if the only thing that makes you wake up in a cold wintery morning is a fantasy?

What if a single dream is sustaining the weight of your entire universe?

Art is the most voracious muse of all.

The best often bleed to death.
Young and wild, they pay the price
to echo forever.

A luz febril da infância rompe pelo milharal dourado.
O Rei Sol adormece, para lá do âmbito,
para lá do Fim dos Tempos.

Não será a última vez.

*

The feverish light of infancy
strikes deep
in thru the golden cornfields.

Her sun souled feet
won’t stand still -
they rave the sand
of endless seas.

No life, no death,
just the ride in between.

Once upon a time
the gods made us
and we made them.

As I pondered thru rivers & streets
& breathed dusk of lemon scents, I
chose an ancient star to gaze & waste my
contemplations on;

In my writings, I bled my soul
to give life to the distant star;
I wasted all the words in the world.

Then she was gone. I sat alone with a poem.
I was never enough,
but I was alright.

I’d exchange all the things I’ve ever loved
for a chance in the sun.

«You always write the weirdest things»,
she says with a java jive smile.
The sun burns red among the living.

I lay down with my thoughts,
what a marvelous sight:
you and the river.

I guess you are unique
in a world of colors,
so paint at your will.

And if my colors should fail
and jeopardize the painting,
I'll know what to do.

I'll **** every morning,
waste every sun.

I'd rather stay on the shore
and watch you happen
than to live with half a smile.

Outside the subway we
saw an old man
dancing in the rain.

[There he gave
birth to a revolution.

Dare to say
he was only a man,
like me, like you,
born to rule, to conquer,
to defy, to rave,
to seize
the promise of another day.

There was a
sweet conversation
in his mind, where he ruled
kings in his wisdom.

All the gold in the world
couldn’t beat his
dancing soul.]

Outside the station we
did not see a man -
we saw the sun aligned with the stars.

And it makes you wonder
if such gentle and uncompromising act
alone justifies the purpose of existing.

I know a place away from home.
Moment of inner dawn.
To recall the last words of a man
who saw beauty in the air
and never had work a single day:

“I’ll cut the wood
Tomorrow,
First thing in the morning,
Promise.”

And dawn came with new age.
I saw love outside my cage
and had the key for a long time.

She was another midnight soul
dancing in the streets of fire.
She called me in the middle of the storm
and my arms, wrapped in denial,
felt free from the chain of dreams.

Real or unreal, what’s it worth to you,
the ride in the wind?

“If I pass out, call the shots.
I will drop you a line on the shore
when I fade in Morgana’s arms -
Another sun souled celebrating
a love that touched
the sea of possibilities.

And all the vanilla skies of our dreams
will rain youth
on the river of what we were,
but those waters will never be lost to the sea.

another dusky morning.
the summer fog
stole the sunrise a chance.

black coffee spilled over the soul.
another burn telling me
I must rise & get my kicks before midnight.

the sunrise will grant me everything.
but what is everything, what could I lose,
where can I go if I all have already stirs my heart?

I just listen to the song and watch the sunrise;
the summer fog mingles with the heat of the light.
the less I worry, the more it mingles.

I've turned water into wine by not turning it at all,
I've poured my fantasies & dreams, and created a new reality.
And Time is enjoying every second of me.

There was one sunset, of all the rest, I will never forget. All the green countryside miles, all the flashy cars in furious thunderstorms, all the music that matched the red oranged skies of the dusk (because they were as pure as that) - all of that remains untouched by the jaws of time. The sunset of our first night together.

I've sinced learned what it means to love, to let go, and to never look back. I've loved and let go of it, but I can never, ever forget that one sunset of my life.

Many more will follow, many more will surely become objects of nostalgia. That's the way of life, I suppose. And all those dreams we shared, I don't regret any of them. It's good to look back and remember a time when life was easy to live and so full of sunshine; where smiles and eyes were easy to reach.

But I'm better now than I was then. A better man, with better dreams, and hungry for new sunsets. And while it feels good to remember those days of youth, I know nostalgia belongs in the realms of shallow fantasies. I can only reminisce the good times we had, but I know there was grief and gloom and thunder at times... only Time seems to make everything seem so perfect. Or distance does that. Maybe we do when we look back at the greatest moments of our lives, just because we can not relive them in the same way.

But there's no telling when or where the next sunset is going to happen. There's joy in the past, but there's also an unsettling thrill in the future. There are moments waiting outside of my boundaries, and I still don't know that I know.

We always fear the future. We fear the good things. We fear Death because we are too afraid of not having anything at all to fear. But we need fear. We need it to feel other emotions. We need loss to value life. And we need the night to wish for the day. And we need the present to hope for the future and make the best of it out of our yesterdays.

Sat down and watched the sunset.
My soul laughed. I never want
to be any other way.

Imperfections everywhere,
I still love them.

Perfection? It doesn't exist.
You have to craft it
with your imperfect ways.

It happens
when you learn to love a broken toy
or a rainy season;
It comes when
you dance to your favorite song
alone with your mind;
It triggers
kisses your lips never felt.

I sat down to watch the sunset,
knowing that that was all.
Anything else would be too much.

I've got the right to fly.

I looked for something in the archives.
An old poetic note written in ancient days;
and old feeling attached to a certain song,
like a sunny day that danced around a melody
my soul never forgot.

Wasn’t a love poem.
I’d never waste a single thought in
that old same unreasonable doubt.

One day we kiss,
the other we set sail,
we regret, we return,
we won’t stand still.

Wasn’t a love note for sure.
I wouldn’t dare love you
or write down my feelings for you.
I don’t belong in a bedtime shelf.

But I look for you, every now and then.
The streets feel so empty
when you can’t find your place in the sun.

Void and endless mental shapeshifting changes
swift my mind and soul, but I wouldn’t waste a single thought:
always had too much time to ****,
but I would never let my soul dry out in the playground.

I look for nothing, can’t find what I can’t wish,
and if I dream, I really should not.

trapped
one night before my birth
it's 1995
the circus is in town
and so
is the lioness
and the
clowns, the
very
frightening clowns.

the room is
filled with black magic
and the walls
are painted with dawn's poetry,
the dark age.

the fall of the day
the angel again,
dream after dream,
never reaches the ground.

will he ever rise
to rule again
in the kingdom?

will I ever return
to reality?

too many gods to look for
too many whispers and calls to attend
and only one heart to seek within
and only one road to follow thru.

happiness is already happening to you
and will never happen before
or after;

happines is an option,
not a pursue.