porumoutrolado

2017-07-31T07:06:00.001+01:00

Words were not

to be spoken.

They had been

proven useless.

The point was clear

to those seeking clarity.

All was pointless

to those avoiding it.

Words could serve

to recount

the unmatched oddity,

but were to fail

in changing its course.

Words were to serve
in the future, their
only time now.

The fourth

2017-07-04T18:20:00.000+01:00

It's the fourth and
the numbers add up.
What's your number,
my love?

How much have
I longed for you?
More than I have
for all others?

How many tears
have I cried for you?
More than I have
for all others?

Memory misleads.
Is that what you
will fade into?

And after you?
Will there be more
numbers?
Will there be more
memories?

Who will ever come
into my heart to stay?
Not you, my love.
Not you.

that was the night

2017-01-29T19:00:00.000+00:00

that was the night that saw
all that has since remained unseen,
that was the night that heard
all that has since remained unheard.

all words were then spoken
all gestures were then made,
each as bound to fail as the other,
for only one person was disturbed
and the other remained untouched.

2016-11-17T07:45:00.003+00:00

the image of the body
who stood
in front of the mirror
outshone
the images of all those
who cowardly
evaded the reflection.

greatness is the quality
of the great,
how foolish to expect
it from someone else.

It's not about all those who left

2016-11-11T06:32:00.000+00:00

It's no longer about those who left,

it's about what stayed behind.

They deserted along with the dreams,

and left nothing but the arid reality.

Their names, bodies and voices

are now trivial details

overshadowed by the roles
they failed to fulfill.

What does not cease to exist

is the sufferable void

left by their departure.

Message to the kind-hearted soldier.

2016-11-08T06:15:00.001+00:00

After the bloodiest battle,
clasp only your pieces
and reassemble your heart.

After the rowdiest battle,
listen only for your voice
and let it soothe you.

After the dirtiest battle,
brush all the fifth aside
and preserve your integrity.

After the cloudiest battle,
look only for your path,
and follow your light.

Walk away from battleground,
with what yours and only yours,
leaving what is others' behind.

Aftermath

2016-11-08T03:11:00.002+00:00

Nothing was left to be said,
for all words had been spent.

Nothing was left to be seen
for all had been exposed.

Nothing was left to be hurt
for all had been injured.

Nothing was left to be broken
for all had been destroyed.

Nothing was left to be hoped
for all had been lost to the mind.

Yet, amidst all the destruction
only one heart was troubled,
for the other remained closed.

What words do you type

2016-09-18T16:40:00.001+01:00

What words do you type
when the story can no longer be told?

What words do you type
when the plot is shattered?

What words do you type
when the characters vanish?

What words do you type
when you are abandoned on stage?

What words do you type
when all you can do is draft a new story?

Unpaired.

2016-08-20T18:43:00.002+01:00

That's the question that will remain unanswered,

That's the problem that will never be solved,

That's the dream that will never be fulfilled,

That's the longing that will never be ceased.

For as much one suffices for most endeavors

one is fated to fail to create what only two can.

A Christmas Tree

2016-07-30T18:21:00.000+01:00

It's almost August and that house
boldly displays Christmas decorations.
A decorated tree prevails in the porch,
lamps of different colors adorn the walls.

It's almost August and no one's heart
echoes Christmas carols or joy,
but the Nativity persists in the house.

Maybe it houses a family who decided
to remind us that every day is Christmas.
Or perhaps it houses solely an old woman
who, accustomed to the passage of time,
knows that before long it'll be Christmas.

Canções

2016-06-12T07:41:00.002+01:00

Ouvia canções
de chuva e vento,
de sóis brandos
e de folhagens sem flor.

Ouvia canções
de corações saudosos,
de olhos chorosos,
e de corpos ausentes.

Ouvia canções
de anos perdidos
de esperanças mortas
e de sonhos desfeitos.

Ouvia canções
de mares bravos
de céus vingativos
e de terra certeira.

Ouvia as canções
e sentia-se cantada,
mulher que chora por tudo,
e que se alegra com nada.

2016-06-04T07:01:00.002+01:00

she expired after relentlessly seeking
all she failed to find in herself.

she sought for knights on white horses
who could rescue her in a heartbeat.

she sought for sailors with masterful hands
who could steer her towards a better port.

she sought for potions of magical compositions
that could restore her body and soul.

but above all she sought for villains
who could be held responsible for her defeats.

The numbers of his age

2016-04-10T19:59:00.001+01:00

The numbers of his age
are heavy to his shoulders.

Numbers of unmet expectations
of what was certain to appear.
trees that failed to blossom,
nests that failed to be built,
ties that failed to be formed.

Numbers of what collapsed,
ships that were foundered,
palaces that were demolished,
crops that that were spoiled.

Numbers of what is still here
and has remained unaltered.
They nullify all the others
for there has been only one life
and the same person within.

2016-04-04T19:06:00.000+01:00

Era uma boa intenção,
mas vivia acorrentada,
e, assim presa,
sabia a nada.

No dia do balanço,
somaram-se os favores
subtraíram-se as dores,
e eis a surpresa:
o nada revelou-se tudo.

2016-03-20T21:03:00.000+00:00

Aquelas eram as mulheres
das esperas desesperadas,
das noites mal dormidas
no conforto do sofrimento.

Aquelas eram as mulheres
satisfeitas na sua insatisfação,
superiores na sua abnegação,
valiosas quando esquecidas.

Soltavam lágrimas e gemidos,
como outros, risos e sorrisos.
Sabiam-se incompreendidas
só a elas lhe doíam as feridas.

Cantavam poemas de dores,
lamentos de falsos amores
de traições e ingratidões,
de vidas mal fadadas,
alheias, mas tão suas.

Mãos acorrentadas a terços
de lágrimas e tormentos,
de socorros e milagres,
de pecados e arrependimentos,
viviam ajoelhadas e vergadas
ante do exemplar sofrimento.

Faziam contas e mealheiros,
sabiam que eram as últimas
e quem eram os primeiros.

Quando o final se acercava,
partiam sós e incompreendidas
como os terços e as novenas,
como os choros e os lamentos,
como as moedas nunca trocadas.

2016-03-14T04:49:00.003+00:00

Que fique tudo no silêncio,
nas horas perdidas,
nas páginas rasgadas,
nas palavras esquecidas.

Que fique tudo por dizer,
o feito e o desfeito,
o encontro e o desencontro,
o viver e o morrer.

footsteps

2016-02-21T20:43:00.002+00:00

She walks unhurried and uninterested.

Urgency would not be suitable,

the destination is undetermined.

Interest is yet to be sparked,

the surroundings seem sterile.

The sound of new footsteps

immediately rearranges her mind,

it starts to wander in anticipation.

She has been longing for feelings

experienced in her first encounters,

as when she was an unworried child

who, upon hearing her mother's footsteps,

would run excitedly to meet her.

As the foreign footsteps near hers,

she fears the collapse of a fantasy,

but her body does not surrender,

conditioned, it acts without cease.

The contact is arranged,

first, steps with steps,

and it hastily proceeds.

Her eyes meet his,

the fantasy flourishes,

their fragments coalesce,

the two become one.

When the sun rises and all is clear,

her heart's crevices reappear.

Fully awake, she returns to her path

and to the sound of her own footsteps.

A body heavier than theirs

2016-02-20T05:19:00.001+00:00

A body heavier than theirs,
a water heater discarded on the side walk
had become indispensable to them
and should be pushed into their truck,
as they glimpsed life in the defunct machine.

Maybe they could still reanimate it,
or perhaps they could dismantle it
to change the fate of other machines.

The future was uncertain, yet firm
enough to invigorate their muscles
and challenge learned weaknesses.

After each effort undertaken by one,
a reciprocal effort made by the other.

At no time, words were spoken,
for their eyes sufficed in the battle.
Whenever hers were about to forfeit,
his made her regain strength and hope.
Whenever his would search for the ground,
hers encouraged him to look up and proceed.

When their struggle came to an end,
and the object was finally secured,
again, no use of words was seen
for their eyes had voiced them all.

Don't forget to close the door

2016-02-13T00:50:00.003+00:00

Don't forget to close the door.
I'll close the windows myself.

Nothing should enter the room
for much of it has been invaded.

There are memories to be erased,
there is distance to be regained.

There is dirt to be washed out,
there is stuffiness to be aired,
there is tightness to be released.

All within should resume its nature,
the state that grants foreignness space,
because only what is yours can you donate.

tempo

2016-02-10T07:19:00.005+00:00

Suspender este tempo como ele é medido,
despertando-se para o verdadeiro tempo.

O tempo sem relógio ou calendário.

O tempo que é apenas um só período
entre dois marcos: o começo e o fim.

O tempo sem horas, tempo sem demoras.

O tempo que não espera, nem desespera.

O tempo que só conta no fim de tudo,
e essa conta só pode ser tarefa alheia.
Na nossa conta, só há um tempo: a vida.

hoje não há medo

2016-02-04T22:09:00.000+00:00

hoje não há medo.
a chuva e o vento
que fustigam a janela
são apenas natureza.

a luz que se apaga
faz descer o escuro,
mas nada muda,
só a cor que vejo.

debaixo da cama,
atrás da porta,
e dentro dos armários,
não há senão objetos,
inanimados de dia,
inanimados de noite.

o frio que sinto
é apenas frio,
que se extingue
com um agasalho.

hoje tudo é simples,
esta razão é senhora,
o tempo é agora,
o lugar é só este.

sol de inverno

2016-01-26T19:40:00.001+00:00

Foste o sol que chegou
numa tarde fria de inverno.
Ceguei-me com o teu brilho
e senti-me subitamente aquecer.

Como se iludem os corações
velhos e fustigados pelo frio...
Ignoram o peso dos anos,
embarcam na fantasia,
ingenuidade de criança,
e vêem o que querem ver.

Quando a realidade caiu,
trouxe o que já se sabia:
sóis presos ao próprio brilho
jamais nos podem aquecer.

caminhar

2016-01-25T04:14:00.003+00:00

lá caminha ela,
com ombros pesados,
carregada
de um pouco de tudo,
mas muito mais do nada.

olhos presos no caminho,
secos e envelhecidos,
mas que ainda vivem
e se erguem aos alheios.

a cada troca de olhares,
a esperança que não se habitua,
o desejo de encontrar passos
que se sincronizem aos seus.

a cada encontro,
o reviver do primeiro
conforto natal,
tempo sem fardos
ou almas feridas.
tempo sem tempo.

a cada despedida,
o tempo que regressa
o espelho que se impõe:
este é o teu caminho,
este é o teu fardo.

uma festa esplendorosa

2016-01-18T08:39:00.000+00:00

Uma festa esplendorosa,
convidadas letras, todas,
de muitas cores e feitios,
que se moviam aos ritmos
gerados pelas músicas
e por tantas conversas
que enchiam a grande sala.

Houve acenos, risos, sorrisos
e cumprimentos despreocupados,
Houve toques, apertos e abraços.
e movimentos mais ousados.

A festa durou horas e horas
e terminou de madrugada
quando as últimas letras
se puseram de abalada.

Se lá embaixo a festa foi divinal,
vista de cima também não esteve mal.
Em toda aquela alegre movimentação
as letras formaram diferentes palavras
que, arranjadas com alguma imaginação,
compuseram uma divertida redação.

ouvir a morte

2016-01-15T05:31:00.003+00:00

Ontem ouvi a morte.
Não a vi,
mas reconheci-lhes os passos...

Começaram lentos.
Depois apressaram-se,
correndo, correndo
como receasse
não chegar a tempo
ao seu destino final.

De seguida, abrandaram...
Contei cada um destes
até chegar junto de mim.
Foram sete passos,
sete longos e pesados passos,
em que todo eu me sustive.

A cada passo,
sentia o frio mais próximo de mim...
Frio
Frio
Frio
Frio
Frio
Frio
Frio

A cada passo,
sentia o medo a apoderar-se de mim...
Medo
Medo
Medo
Medo
Medo
Medo
Medo

Sempre de olhos fechados,
um único pensamento no escuro
enquanto a morte me rondava:
morrer seria deixar de te ver.

Quando a morte se foi
e me abandonou à vida,
um outro medo brotou:
medo de viver sem te ter.