Flight FR7472

Flight FR7472

The landscape

blows up adjectives

in my direction

I observe the rawness

of its angles, the

fluidity bounding its

chaos

emerging from my

departure

colorful forms reorganize

themselves

into patterns, compositions -

I'm sure there's a skill

of human behavior, behind

every linked green and scattered

houses trailing this film

we never reach an end, but

the story moves on

apparently

learning, cleansing the roughness

of thoughts, the vicious waist of

romanticism

eluding the mind into

beauty or despair

as we move north

all settles down to practical

lines connecting - discipline

knowledge, welfare;

the river shortens its course

preparing to lay its waters

into the meekness of its

mouth.

Did Mondrian had a plane?

© 2014, José Eduardo Coelho

Wings

Wings

The first time

it happened, he was

lying in his bed

such an awkward

sensation, he thought it

was just a fantasy

overflowing its realm of

candid activities, blowing away

organic spores

but then he touched -

them – damn! and they were real

everyday he was bestowed

with a few extra inches

in a few weeks

his body had overcome

skepticism.

He told me that also I

could become unique

just had to immerse myself in

his wings

and let them

indoctrinate their meaning

in me.

Little did he know, that I

in my littleness could fly since I

dreamed.

© 2014 José Eduardo Coelho

Aveiro Slosh

Aveiro Slosh

Blinds shadowing windows

run ahead of my eyes

as I drive along

the marrow

of my heydays

through which I used to gaze;

lamp posts, trees, sidewalks and

buildings

look at me, my presence is

not unnoticed, they know

who am I

Decay is just another note we both

play together

so we keep life

in tune with each other

despite every nonsense canopying

bricks and backbone

my head raises

and listens

as if

now, could mean anytime in

form and volume, like

scattered clouds framing the pale blue

in white

and then there's

this house, the one on the hook, view

into the east, south and west

not to mention high school right across

my room

resting

Going back to my home town.

I have to say I

almost faint from that absurd feeling -

so evocative, compelling and

irrational, pushing me to come

inside again, claim it as

mine – it always was!

assume it as the most natural

act

not of revenge but

of possession

© 2014 José Eduardo Coelho

As We Know It!

Do you need help?

Stop! Pulling my arm won't

bring us any closer

be!

cause you are

dead

and I'm

lost vanishing slowly among

your

living

shadows.

Still

believe it:

rain will end

                awki

sand will stop streaming -

when time fills over

the edge

of happiness,

continents will annul their

definition, as no more friction

no more subduction will

swing earth's crust

     in love, pathetically plain

and blow westerlies inside

birds and trees -

an extinguishable set of

memories

failing to travel from

cell to universe:

... no return

be!

cause

That Day

I will be able to catch you

again, in my hand

like a dream's ply

throbbing

at each dying

in me.

© 2014 José Eduardo Coelho

Diversion

Diversion

It's one

in the morning and

there are plenty

of words

sealing the illusion

devised by a roll of succulent

sounds

dripping from your babelicious mouth

letters faint their meaning less

kernel, in awe

of god's wonderful creation, painting

a new gammabet, one

that will endure through

the corners of our intellect-

ual mnemonics

up to one

frequency imbuing both war &

bestial, human & celestial, death &

love.

It's one minute

after one and my dyscelix metronome

slows down to a consensus:

better just enjoy the view!

© 2014, José Eduardo Coelho

Sensitive Extra Xanadu

Sensitive Extra Xanadu

The tender fleshy lip
smudged
the glass of the window
making that hissing noise
rub the outer part
of my brain tissues, just
where the bone
caresses the mind;

the subtle contour of my
thoughts, rendered layers
of shadows, trying hard to prolong
and protect
the anti-natural nature
of the image my emotions
forged;

the hands
were free and
the eyes
were thirsting for reading
the mouth not
eating or speaking or breathing
but

why is it so hard
to explain
sex?

© 2014, José Eduardo Coelho

News from Abroad

News from Abroad
:

I
Buddhism will absorb the problems of the world
and give balance to your heart -
said the silent voice in a room while
no body was listening and
a mosquito rambled around
the fruit can in queer
search for
survival

I tried to kill him
convulsively
only to learn that
he existed
no further than
on tv.

II
While wide rivers
split cities
their water, their breeze, their sense of
direction
unifies them &

their inhabitants
grow to memorize the amount
of liquid material that
flushes their souls
daily

III
binary language is messing
up communication
between
discrete and continuous
hearts, so that relations will be
discontinued

on a technical level
we exist because we can
measure our existence
in units of faith

IV
I'm virtually homesick
from traveling.

© 2014, José Eduardo Coelho

Africa

Africa

(Impossible Love)

I've never been

the one aiming at

Africa, her skin aged

                          waiting

too long too

much skies

above us tundras, horses

galloping their white

Napoleon desire, unable to

conquer love

letter-sweet

kisses brewing, somewhere

as a disease

spreading its odor

silently, between

lips aching

in pain, for

uncertain parallels & meridians

turning the tissues

within

her hands, truly

a compass

following the eternal movement

of seabirds -

north & south

back & forth

- the stamina

of generations

rising as a voice

                       deep

of identity

I never woke up inside

Africa;

a faulty azimuth

put me

steering into another

continent

until today's

memories broke up

and I realized

Africa

was just

the name of this

poem.

© 2014, José Eduardo Coelho

Solução?

Solução?

Mata-se, corta-se, rebenta-

Se isso fosse solução

Esta página continuaria

Branca, incólume, livre e

Sedutora de olhos nos meus

Sem uma mancha, fosse de tinta

Ou de sangue prenhe de emoções

Próprias, alheias, sem

Razão para rasgar bocas, de tanto

Ódio e desprezo e entulho

Acumulado nos cantos do

Pensamento

Quando o

Há, nas mãos que

Matam,  cortam, rebentam.

© 2014, José Eduardo Coelho

In the Search of Pi Limits – II

In the Search of Pi Limits – II

(Impossible Poetry)

we. are

we. are a sequence of digits

we. are a sequence of digits rehearsing

we. are a sequence of digits rehearsing history as a fairy tale

we. are a sequence of digits rehearsing history as a fairy tale ready to unroll the next predictable though unknown page

we. are a sequence of digits rehearsing history as a fairy tale ready to unroll the next predictable though unknown page ad infinitum

we. are a sequence of digits rehearsing history as a fairy tale ready to unroll the next predictable though unknown page ad infinitum; may god be on our side

© 2014, José Eduardo Coelho

Alternativa?

A propósito de cores

não me resta outra

alternativa senão pôr-me no

arco-íris e

baloiçar até morrer

de embriaguez

colorida.

© 2014, José Eduardo Coelho

white-white

White-white

Just before

desperation began -

its odorless pits

nailing through the thickness in

my brain

           and global cornea

the white on the ceiling

suddenly

looked more intense than

ever

        (had I really seen white-white?)

I was almost sure

until they knocked the door

down and told me

that was I

thinking.

© 2014, José Eduardo Coelho