Tag Archives: Brazilian artist


Silence and solitude

One is the host, one is the guest
A kind of company that is loneliness
Steal a still room to quieten one’s breast
To appease and deny, to push and to press

Worry Maker

Stage 1: great afflictions saturate the stomach.
Stage 2: the heart empties once the task is completed.
Stage 3: dailiness finally fills the veins.

Trials and ponderations

Being outspoken has never propelled me to produce speech that is a proper portrait of my inner self.

Why ponder and pry into my principles only to prefer to remain silent?

I’m betraying my best interests.


When you love so long
That the thrill is gone
And your kisses at night
Are replaced with my tears

Lyrics by Bat For Lashes,

Picture by João Viegas


Will our solitariness ever lift, or is the life of the mind its own reward?

J.M. COETZEE, Youth.

The Exercise

Dam-like, water force
Opposing impulses I know so well
A pound lock, rising rivulets
Fighting to emerge from my own dwell


Everything changes: unexpectedly, undoubtedly, delightfully.

*  *   *

*   *     *


A wave

:: ::

I’m obsessed with fluid and uncontrollable states of mind; as depicted by masters of writing.

I’m obsessed with Virginia Woolf; life and work.

A Mutation

The chemistry of feelings
Natural laws, emotional states
No matter how strong my will is
Changing without obliterating
What a challenging trial to make
Is my present my past remolded?
A lot is lost, a lot is taken
And everything is transformed
Again and again

Nothing is created from scratch


There are those who burst with their insanity
Spitting stupidity, vomiting vulgarity
Not I, for I can but implode with mine

When I learn to erupt so slowly
My whirlwinds will turn into lakes
Pools of discomfort, embers that cool
Shall give rise to what may come my way


Thoughts of being nothing without my expectations and dreams have been here, within
But I am me, with the insides out, a bit real, still me
What scares and threatens may as well liberate
Through anger and ache, from past to fate


The problem with yearning for something
Is that one day you might get it
Or leave it

Letting go of something can be just as painful
As holding on to something going wrong

The Armor

When emotions pave the path for frustration
Right and wrong writhe the will of the strong
Expectations are the fruit of illusion
And hinder the way to be gone

From the meek, the gentle and humble
Mulishness will give in and then fall
What’s sincere will remain and make crumble
Even the saddest, thickest of walls


Thoughts that run and cannot be caught
Running ideas that may melt the pot
Melting brains of wrong wars fought

To clear, to struggle
To battle; for what?


Till the day
Is ending
And the birds
Are silent
And the insects
Are courting

By the shores
Heavy stones
Are falling