My bones are dancing
By our eloquent silence when we used to sleep together, after our love that met the backyard of all our inner voices and now your gone and i am somehow more solid in my own distance, where i trow out words into the ancient lakes of wisdom and they meant the touch of a living spirit that is gold and black like a true walk in the life dragged by memories hitching up some bliss and sorrow, when one becomes the other or water inside the kicks that we had, so i still live by the trick of my street poetry, just like when you met my world…met my world…
Lisbon Calling
Inside you and far where my shelter turn the night visions of my soul in your lines that no one erases from my fist and if i am away i also take leaflets of something gathered and up on our fate by so much outside world, when i took you, i have hold you to the surrealistic awareness of my sky, so you have meet my eyes down by the stone seat becoming our moon’s nest, now my attention paints what was a thought in a letter and the long words of pain can be tamed by this tumbledown so divine if it is not a social conflict for you, so that i can bang bang more and more and no one is stuttering around here, cause your face rises into this place and i make the talking for things that i turn into the waiting room of our awake by the call of the smile…
The gentle journey from Marie Soula into my soul
Slowly the night ends and down at the 7/11 I gave him his best breakfast in the life of he, cause he sang no confusion, the expression was found so free along his way away from me and i keep going making the day an event of good feelings even if she was scared by the things that freak her out by those days, so a lovely invitation came and i went with her to feel her way of exposing her mind, she was blonde i was shy, it was all ok, we went back to work, it was a weekday and all the people were passing and later on i met a parisien young woman that was lost in her heart and now it was me who made the invitation to cross The Tagus by boat, I was looking at her eyes so sad with the wind blowing on her, then we got there on the other side, bought some cherries, looked at the city and talked about what could it be poetry if the refrain could be changed in both hearts and the transmission was settled for the way back to Lisbon. We were touching the distance of what it was a smooth melody, but it was not it was too tough for both, even then, we walked and took coffe to run from our bloody dreams and arrived to the Park, seat and no more routine was more than a memory. A long love song was taught and she felt good, i told her that for some time that love could be like the mighty ocean, when it was warm it would be it. And because she came along and i came with a song, we almost were the same mirror with a naked joy in both natures, then the journey end it up in a farewell kiss that fell from a gentle goodbye untill now since the year of 2000, dear Marie Soula.
My wonder world
I hit my wonders taking the lure of the ocean to flow across that mirror of the deep blue sky, reaching some of hidden treasures of the universal mind, which is for me all the people with a big injection of self doing it against the fascistic imperialistic capitalism on their tricky money living games, so the holocaust turns dark again with the mutual consent of body and soul of people who just let it go, not let temselves go in a sexual way, so the alienation and the popular histerism are coming from consumism which has no serious basis on the dream department and so i and a few more wide world resist and fight back with solutions and facts that are not televisioned and in my case a year of living in a anarchist commune made me aware that is possible if that mutual trust goes further into a group with open discussions and pacts of non agression and self help, cooperation and will power, built with the inner work made together. This is nothing new,i spend some time, writting mostly in portuguese things that the majority doesn’t know still, but is known by some of the libertarian world front or maybe not, so i took the step and i will further on this, beside my poetic world, which is my space, free for that perfect kiss.
Dream Academy
In the whishing of some knowledge there is a sharpened song that goes for the green valleys so fresh there in that colourfull dress just like a never knowing about what could be the love from the top roof in the head, when it shouts for your name, all the speach turns blue again cause the secret sorrow of a morning tear is on the dream trown into the land of emptyness, that is a sad light but the laugh will strike again on you without your confused and lonely fight, it’s us all, so feel free to invoice my heart and i will write you a song, in honour of our garden flirts, swinging a dozen of kisses in your black trousers, just when the rain took us into your car and after the travel you belly danced to me on my room, it was a safe shore for both, so keep my eyes clean, dear friend, making of this a certain straight stage of a convertible name, meaning you heating up my body by the dream academy where i scratch your body.
Anarchy
My lips are the element that fade for the gloomest look that holds your breathe and when i see a true spirit out from across the darkest shadow, the moon rises for the way to pass with a glove that traces the cold and haunts the beauty of your nature in a good way, being the clothes that we take out to swim. Yes, with every first electric sound we are much more than skin and bone, we seek for the healthy roots in each step to stop the scientific sun from the killing from the friends and humans we love and have, cause we belong to the non-stop gracefully people with virtual top secrets, smashing the government with our energy on the way of moving the psychologic strenght coming from a powerfull story in the true reality that is close in sensbility for the union of the open eyes, cause me and you can make the difference if humankind is having fond of the brave people that is telling that revolution is the true and no apology for cheap riots, so come, feel,so come, sacred friend, my life energy trusts on your soul, like the rainbow warrior on the dirty waters, cause all of us can be released from the pain and i give these words for whoever thinks his/her life, behind every second after all the time to have faith in anarchy…
The first thought from death not be caugth
The salt and the sea triggered an extreme running around when from death not to be caught i gave you my thought, that was my loyal ideal on every desesperation that i’ve hold from you. My party time is made of listening, walking, thinking, reflecting, using my own comedy as diplomacy with the normal people and the words that I use outhere are not similar to my intimacy (but they could be if they would just listen-like me from them).
I guess as for exercice in the art of blocking a fascistic event, you can use the tactics of self knowledge based on a well prepared study of the theme discussed, cause they are not honest, you can see how the portuguese government has hidden by fear the flights in the US Base in Azores (i had already transcripted the facts from the Reprieve organization, one month ago), cause they need money to transfer not only the political prisioners like in the times of Salazar, but also the EU money into their bank accounts. Is easy to be a thieve in Portugal, Mário Soares is the master since 1974, leading the robbery from the portuguese and he was a charming coward in Paris when my father was fighting in Mozambique and thousands of young men, now living also in fear for the economicist vision of freedom and that’s why every repression after a demonstration by the portuguese representative democracy society, like the cops or teachers, is like a carnival on a sunny day and the tourists love this, specially in Algarve where women go there to be fucked like beasts, the shit is the same, if you don’t think out from normality and let things happen year after year. So my protest is a majestic galaxy stolen from the thick minds of people around Earth and if I am not afraid of police is because i have studied on the first thought of my existence, the crying…
The Black Runs Deep
Remember where we have started by turning the lips has food and you took and stand on my long delight by the hours laying side to side on a cosy corner of our street, to collect our falling eyes around the little money ever earned but not blinded by the touristic pictures of Lisbon, cause when i have found you, it was to early, but later for about 11 years i run for your elegant presence and we talked and still friends in shyness in every word felt by the black swan or the clothes we wear in and out of our butterfly sessions on each memory of the alternative golden years in Lisbon and now we survive by dreaming and working hard for a season in solitary bridges to the notion of a pointed question of feeling on the same direction, so we blow and blast as we rock and jump to whatever runs deep…
Campolide personalities in my memories, Paula Castro and Rui Pedro
Behind your hair that felt, there was a nowhere tissue that was your candy statement in your dancing teaching and you had passs by me always with a certain balance altough you had no reasons to smile. I remember when you came from California, i was hanging in your street, saw you and opened the cab’s door, then you went home, where there was a small toy that danced and you know it was the postman for whom i did ask to see where you lived, now that your forever gone, Paula Castro. Thank you for being always nice for me, Saudades…
Every word of you, dear Rui Pedro, was pure wisdom, you used to talk in a coloquial way on your way to the cinema or coming back from it. You studied many issues, from death you had no fear and all alone reading and thinking, you made your life between 2000 and 2006. You helped me and others, several times with your good heart. When i was seatened on my stairs to watch the people passing i always waited for you, to have a coin that you never have denied. Your last words at the hospital as i was visiting you, were:’ i am thirsty, they don’t give me water in here…’. Your dog, Joy, died this year and your brother is spending all your money in stupid things. I keep going like when we become friends in Campolide, at the Rua General Taborda. Thank you for all, Rui Hélder Miranda Pedro, Saudades…
Tanya in Lisbon
I met Tanya from Valparaiso in Chile in 2000. I was somehow with me on the streets of ‘Bairro Alto’ and asked for something into this girl. We talked for some time and then i took her to the ‘Miradouro de Santa Catarina’ where we could see the Tagus. We talked for one hour and then we were going to her cheap motel, that we call ‘Pensão’ and i felt very anxious but i had time to salute the good bohemian psichology teacher Branco Vasco, he with his class all drunk. I had some sugar on my pocket but no water, so i asked Tanya if i could drink up at the Pensão. She asked the guy and i could go up. Got there and with the water and sugar i could have some small relax from the tension and layed upon the bed of the room. She layed too, we kept talking and in front it was the office of the sports newspaper ‘ Record’ which was covering the Euro-2000; from the window we could see the guys typing and then we hugged and kissed, there was nothing inside us than water and the heat was making us horny and we took the clothes and made sex and it felt good, i must say. I spent one week sleeping on this ‘Pensão’, where in my youth i used to go for having fun, had never slept there, in the street i did. We ate in the same chinese restaurant and i was asking for the same plate on every meal event. She came into my house and met Sebastião and Marina, friends from my generation. One thing in my house in that year of 2000, was that i had a invasion of flees so we were scratching all the time and her legs were the red spot place from her latin blood, i was used (with a medicine that my vet cousin gave me to spread for the house, to get rid of the flees, after 3 years i had none). So she started to make her travel around the world in Lisbon and she was a tender woman, intelligent and with a bright determination. The fact that she was a jew, meant nothing. One sunny day we cross the Tagus by boat, sat on the other side, watching the white city and eating cherries. Then she had to go for her next country, France. There was the semi-final bewteen Portugal and France on the same day, i was anxious but not feeeling some urgency,a bit nervous about the game. We went to the bus station in ‘Arco do Cego’, we talked and said goodbye. Then i run after a farewell so long on my hand till she and the bus were gone, into the nearest place with a tv, i got just at the moment that the refferie signed an unfair penalty against Portugal, Zidane scored and Portugal was out. Out of her things a diary that she forgot, with a green cover that i kept on my wooden box of written memories.
A man’s shyness by the lifting of the eyebrows
December 25th, 2008
So I keep going and how do I feel? I was feeling to much and emotional too, so I
went cooking for what I have asked into a friend, cause I had almost nothing; I offered him some candies for his daughter, then comes meditation and I was wondering about the laughing of others when I am not facially expressive and so even friends laugh at me and I have this tiny problem that in Koblenz with this, I had a shyness attack in the kitchen of Anne Klotzin and her blonde friend married with a homosexual and other example was with my favourite muse, Patrícia, we were down at ‘Restauradores’ in Lisbon and some guy made eye contact with me and lift up his eyebrows and I said to Pat ‘s; she was so kind that asked me if I wanted that she would made the same lift to this guy…
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