Communion

Seldom,
            There the mountain,
I free me.
            calling.
Thoughts gone,
            Viscerally climbing into
the remaining, beautifully wash,
            up-skies unreachable.
caress, dendrites raised to
            Magnetic power resembling
the billions producing
            Odes to
a rare feeling of
            perennial
ethereal
            endings.
communion.

Hipertext Transfer Protocol Secure

Hashy words beating all possibly imagined
Transgressions, organized into binary semiotics, dulled
Tuxedo readings off the chip, unresolved
People  travelling physical agnostic circuits, virtually
Surreal blank-rewinded sockets binding.

Looking forward to invent you

Looking forward to invent you

            I used jerrycans all over our place

            saving water

            a lot

I gather musty bytes world wide spread

            Straight ahead, she said,

            that's where you'll find him,

            sleeping

of slavish etymology

            Stitches closely sewed, joined us

            together

dual style kept in frigid memories

            Indian movies on Sunday afternoons,

            exotic scenery

hoping one day

            Playing billiards, slot machines, smoking

            our secret

by learning your name

            Convergence required,

I can grasp

            understanding,

the meaning

           a must

of he who

           to

raised

          you.

me.

Missing shadow

How I would like to have said that
sometimes,
at noon,
while walking through
the streets
of my city,
under a dark burning
zenith-sun,
my eyes
get tempted
to unravel,
my hands
get thirsty
of touching,
the missing shadow
under my
feet.

I say stone!

I say stone and

you laugh

vibrating crystalline cords,

amused.

I say feelings and

you stare delightful

at me.

I say memory and

you melt

chocolate hearts on my

hands.

I say time

has many flavored flows

and you vanish provocatively

into a tear drop,

resting on my

tongue.

I say stones

live!

to carry us through

our journey.

They observe us,

indulgently,

because they know nothing

can change

the course of

history.

my secret lie

I live delicious
marble by sacred ocean.
My heart a
dizzy dazzle
popsicle poetry beside
web come,
myself a boot
machine,
an ice murmur,
almost fever.

p.s. This is my secret lie.

Fruitful seasonings

Now that’s when oil mills wash
Fruitful seasonings collected among
Mediterranean fields
Mother trees begging for delivery
Change, hope of renewal, wisdom
All weighted, mixed and pressed,
Now reborn
Hands get rough, shaking, pulling, selecting
Pursued reasons for enduring
Cold, persistence, resilience
Now, again
Sticks, chainsaws, cloths
Unified families gathered from dawn
To dusk celebrating
Wine, bread, olives
Turned into oil
Precious
Green
Soft.

Sebastianism / we only see what we want

Too much trendy talk justifying
Love, sadness, envy
As if logic oriented
Within
Sebastianism obsession's cult

     [which only error was to fail his contention]

Obscure ideas revealing unfinished lotus

We only eyes
See
What we want to
Filtered
Through
Emotional algorithms
Aiding to mind perception,
Biased truly as
Believes
.
        [his dream our dream never came true]

Tangerine dream

iTágides 3G-LXperia

of mucus-abyssal contour

silk almost falling

skimming your naked

body-sword.

I sprout words

I do not know

but you answer me

and lucidly it all makes sense

as I touch your warmth

in me lights, vibrations kind of

cushioned

awaken me from this

tangerine dream

but near me just a cold blue.

As we drive

Straight lines are like
persistent
grey summer days.
Never forget how they
tend to subsist in our transient
memory
though we prefer
ultra insular blue skies
as if representing an ever returning
close relative
from childhood
dear
fostering safety, confidence, inner warmth.

Oblique lines are
charismatic
they grab you and take you along
as majestic ocean waves do,
shaking heart bits,
lifting us up, dancing curved
melodies
like lovers in naive
orbits
talking French
kisses,
using skin as
emotional media.

As we drive
sharing
we become silent
give our talk
some rest.
Only the mind keeps working
daily puzzles
thinking
nonsense is an amazing brain
anti-oxidant.

Nordic databases

Day in - day out

in deep deep shhhhh

I wander around

nordic databases

so lamppered

so php

often analyzing

algorithms

so optimized

so web-based-pearized

shifting object adrift programs

against tests

biasing information

according to

someone's

needs

and

deeds

in deep deep

IT

Immortality

That who begins, ends.
We search for immortality
Therefore
We aim at annihilation.

ALYTMESO

All at once 
lust flowered between us like 
yellow fingered melodies 
tuning sensors of both into 
mimetic violin cords vibrating 
empty chellos with echoed 
sensuality 
or not

Bitter question

If every start has an ending 
and big BANG was real,
so will be big GNAB.

Hence, my mind keeps asking,
was there anything out...where? 
beafter?

While yes denies universe's infinite nature,
no stands for time's fraud,
and most of all
I can't conceive it!

Universe

The universe exists
embracing the whole there is
as definition

Lampedusa

No words fled out of his mouth
so real, so scary
his hand stretched
between imagination blisters
not even a cry
of mingled sounds
so obscene, so placid
unreal...

the very last
water-fleeting-second
his eye met mine,
urging me
to go on,
pursuing
his dream
......
off

Oscilação final

Pécora branca,
Chuva de leite,
Pérola, pérola,
Macio semblante

Let's go inside...

Come on!

You wanna go out?

Be cultural

enjoy the view while you

drink on Rothko's

colors

fulfill your senses with

Gorky, Gottlieb

maybe take a

deep swim

into one of Pollock's

abstractions

or even (who knows!?)

get a taste of

Koon's Heaven?

What for?

Your dreams are made of

outdated candy books

and bourgeois villas sinking

in boredom high tech!

Sliding thoughts vanish

while I drink my coffee

Come my tender muse

let's go inside...

Charing Cross

Charing Cross

Aseptic odor cleansing

my mind shrinks to

the size of a pea as I

wait and wait

alongside other peas.

Elevator drops us

15th floor

we scatter walking

away nurses in

white uniforms.

Carrying my

still warm

Pastéis de nata

I move forward

Towards the room where

she rests.

Outside, the view is grizzly plain

the whole world

zoomed out in sickness

Planes cross the sky fainting

their tears

every 5 minutes

down the blue

Ochre cinnamon powders

my rendez-vous

with southern

yellow-shiny-whishes

Smell of hospital food

invades my path

and shredded

neural tissues

I finally knock

and there she is

waiting

We embrace,

as we kiss.

She smiles.

I shall be “to the point”

In this I shall be “to the point”:

outside is cold, foggy and it's dark.

Dogs are howling their way to ...

But that's not what I had in mind!

At 1st thought?

I used to love painting,

not because of what, who or

but just for the sake of

I think I got addicted

to the smell of paints

long ago

before I even noticed it

and the vertigo

that pulled me to

the white canvas

was so intense

I did not mind

the sacrifice.