Tuesday, December 23, 2014

Ah menina, o vento lá fora

Ah menina, o vento lá fora
parece feito de vidro
caquinhos de pó
que arranham o rosto quando passam
das ventanias do Sudão
que se alargam até para lá do mar de
Marraquexe
Ah menina cubra o rosto
como as árabes que assim preservam
sua tez
Ah menina cuide de sua cútis
o vento de vidro
que arranha teu rosto arranha teu rosto
é só isso
só isso
só isso mesmo
caquinhos de vidro menina.
Cubra o seu rosto.

Monday, December 22, 2014

International Man of Mistery (at the doorstep of our house)

There is nothing you won’t do
At the doorstep of our house (home)
But it was
It was
just
an
i
d
e
a

(at the doorstep of our house.) (home)
It was nothing.
You are right.
I was just online
trying to chill out.
It’s cool, 
I’m 
very 
proud
!
At the door 
step 
of this house.
you did well
But,
notice,
"this
house"
 How 
would            you                             even       be 
witH                out      this                         House?

antes de tudo o mais hei-de chupar-te os olhos
como se faz com os gorazes
e depois
cuspi-los
na tua boca
aberta
hás-de gritar como os porcos
no dia da matança
mas já nem sequer terás o prazer imenso de te ver chafurdar
no próprio sangue.

since

since you have destroy-ed-me
now re-build-me
i'm afraid i'm forgetting
how
to
breath.

Tuesday, December 16, 2014

Pavlov















O corpo desenrola-se como se de um papiro
Se tratasse
Aberto sobre a mesa
Como que ondula na memória
Da tua língua
Indo ao encontro da perfeição da página

Com a ponta dos dedos debruçando-se
Sobre o início do mundo pediste-me
Que de novo desembrulhasse o papiro
E teus dedos quase rasgaram o ar
Na ânsia do toque.
Não respiro ao calor da tua boca
Que humedece o papiro até que só
Teu cuspo.

Teu rosto em direção ao meu
E a língua longa elongando a página
Sobre a mesa

E mil vezes abri o papiro
Sem luz que alumiasse a letra
E mil vezes
Me desmanchei

Sentindo teu cuspo sobre mim.

Sunday, December 14, 2014

Often as a man I will do as slave masters did

Often as a man I will do as slave masters did
strip your soul, by taking your body.
Instead I want to engulf all at the same time.
Have your body for breakfast
Your spirit for dinner
Your soul as an after thought

My feeding on your soul is as real as the day is long
And as I slowly savor your flesh
The minutes turn into hours
Chained in my tongue
You will erupt on my island
causing me years of disruption.
I want to forever be
becoming. past, present, and future.
and if you die tomorrow
I’ll look for your soul
Sucking time and space
Until I can swirl my tongue again
Through the body of your text
As the master, I write.
I, you, we,
(and society)
need disrupted from the clear status
of our natural boring being.

Wednesday, November 26, 2014

cry

the whores howl in our house
. i hear them all the time.
and so do the dead dogs
who came back
to lick my tears
silently

Saturday, November 15, 2014

the sound of a guitar

My insanity permeates the walls that shake vaguely
With the sound of madness
I hear it deeply in the heart of the house
As it crumbles slowly underneath me

my legs fail
Faking the fall
In the abyss of being nothing but
The moaning of its and bits of a full body
slashed open
In-between your legs

I let the house take over and hope to levitate.
your notes sustain the murmur of my entrails.
...and the house implodes
in the lunacy of an entire body 
shaking 
as you finger the chords of the guitar.

Tuesday, November 11, 2014

confia

a mente mente como quem desmente a verdade que nunca foi
se te disser que sim talvez seja o sim
apenas para que possas ser o melhor de ti
mas de mim
confia apenas
nas entranhas
nas guturais exclamações
onde a mente não mente
e a língua não é construção
mas é boca beijando a boca
gemendo a boca salivando
a boca
plena
de mim
confia apenas
nas minhas entranhas.

silence

the silence will grow from the sorrow the impossible the opium the dislove and long empty roads
that lead no where
you cannot be
in a borrowed body
and corrupted mind

so be the silence
and the light might shine.

Saturday, September 13, 2014

We do not share time, words or mountains

We do not share time, words or mountains
And I do not come from the East
(Whether you stand in Europe or not)
yet time still passes through our words
and the words still come to our lips.

I must give you a little bit of love
For it seems I was born for nothing else.
From you I receive the glory of crudeness
The exactness of America
And all the more
I cannot really describe in these words for they are not mine.

From you also rises the laughter
(yes, rises, like the morning sun)
And once I almost saw the tears
From you come
impossible riffs that find the tune amidst the deafness of
Hear.
There are other riffs that divide us
and hands that unite us
in a language we never speak
though it is mine.
and you know its sounds and inflections.
and because of it you came to me.

(You must have a fever
One might think
For your hands burn.
And I must be frozen
For somehow I melt)

I wish my English were better
And the words flew from my fingers
as the birds when you watch them from atop
the mountains.
Next time you climb them
And see the flight of the birds
Save the retina of your eyes so I can see the spectacle
Photograph them and send them to me
Your eyes I mean
Otherwise, it will be just birds
And by then you will have flown.
For a second we will share the mountains
the time you take to watch the birds
and the words the birds write in the skies of dreams.

Wednesday, September 3, 2014

Chora pois.

Se chorares o tempo se compadecerá de ti
e um lago de sal seco crescerá
em teu lugar
alagada a alma de tuas lágrimas
melhor será o gosto
do teu estar
e passar-se-á a vida em pequenas gotas de dores maiores
e dir-me-ás, após,
senão foi benesse o tempo padecido.
Chora pois.

o cerne da casa cessa

o cerne da casa cessa

sem que telhas telhado teçam
nem chão de soalho chore
meus passos perdidos
do cerne de mim
o vazio deixei e o vazio encontro.
Casa que sou sei que
Nada se constrói sem terra.

Sunday, June 8, 2014

feel no thoughts

feel no thoughts
feel the clean water
feel how the thoughts poison you, fool you, play with you, resemble you
your thoughts resemble you
that's all.

Wednesday, June 4, 2014

my little sister cries

hey little sister can we start all over?
roll from the cliffs and dive onto the ocean
little sister can it be sweet and warm and loving?
little sister sits still and speaks silently
while the waves rock us back and forth into a lullaby
my little sister cries.