The Hut

The Hut

Some mansions are awesome

but I

prefer small houses, a hut

where essentials live closer

at the reach of an hand

the perfect

chaos or organization

the simplicity of caging

characters in your world into

a tiny arena, mine

and breath it, taste its seduction

as a voyeur

inhaling the smell of

your own coffee

while you deep into

the lines of your favorite

book

and forget all, knowing

it's there

in awareness only

for you

Some mansions can mean

space, The space

between things we keep as

essentials

and blanks, The blanks

that hold the structure giving depth to

our sense of un-

limited freedom

but I

got lost & sick in those

meanings

water seeking refuge

running down the

walls, I

trod grooves

the grooves you can find on

my face

at the mirror

by the hut, I prefer.

© José Coelho, 2015

No light at the end of the tunnel

No light at the end of the tunnel

nine am, The sun

shed wings over its

blooms

and the morning breeze

curled its petals

but       that was past

now

fillings surged their

metallic whispers

inside -

things were not

going too fast

just faster

every time it spun

the rage inside became

weaker

by the fringe

too thin to dissect

fragile

the grief's internal

frequency increasing

as a tagging beat suspended

progression

into the funnel

for a tithe of a          second

Did I forget where I was

who was I and what

got me there

would the chair or the bed

know

either way, one thing

was sure

It was dark, at the end everywhere

and the sound

of my movement passing by

was the only

anchor.

© José Coelho, 2015

Invenção à Janela

Uma superfície

lisa e plena

como a noite, sempre

encostada , atenta, morna e

latejante

tocou-me

sem nome

galgando-me pelos dedos

acima, até à exaustão

capilar

da ignorância

latente

fruiu-me

a mim, asceta

e complacente mente, tomei-a

em minhas mãos

suave

demorámo-nos

no olhar

bebemo-nos

agora, infectado

confundo-me com ela

disperso-me

na sua textura.

© José Coelho, 2015

Humanities #4

Humanities #4

under water

everything would be easier

less oxygen, less energy

thus

less destruction

love would flow

warm and cold streams

reaching souls

anywhere

without prejudice

to mankind evolution

only problem -

re-adaptation

© José Coelho, 2015 

Inked Thoughts #2

Inked Thoughts #2

neck connects

to shoulder

thrills give way

to blade

nectarine breasts

emerge

belly condensed

sugar.

© José Coelho, 2015

Inked Thoughts

Inked Thoughts

the day was sunny

refulgent

from the mountain

top

a continuum of light

carpe diem

© José Coelho, 2015 

Wasted

Wasted

we're over

with the sense of meaning

it got stuck somewhere

on the road

slowly disguised

curtain behind curtain

dimmed to the left corner of our

focal point

disconnected

before embracing its

destiny

we're over painting

skies                        & bodies

with a simple blue

we washed every trace

every odor

of color & days

wasted away

with a single stroke of

thinner.

© José Coelho, 2015

Doubt´s Land

once upon a time

in doubt´s land

there were 5 impressions ready

to go on a trip

a blind date

to heaven or hell or just another place

on earth where

for a split second, someone

would smile from inside

and make up emotions even before

picking on their

contents

once upon a time

in doubt´s land

an envelope

wrapped in bubbles

held impressions inside

everything filled in appropriately

to avoid blurring or diversion

but no warranty

of arrival

on any time

We live in a land of doubt, so said the clerk

and I believe her because I smiled

and nodded.

© José Coelho, 2015

Humanidades #3

Humanidades #3

Vertem-se lágrimas
e elas transbordam
replicam-se

contagiamo-nos de medos e sonhos
comportamentos
plurais, em uníssono
benzemo-nos
perante o destino, o nosso
e arfamos
na angústia de nunca
nos alcançarmos
                perdidos

       que me interessa o infinito se
       lá tão longe, nunca
                      o entenderemos
       prefiro o eu, aqui e agora
                      num afã palpável, redutível

vertemos as lágrimas
que podemos
enxugamos
e seguimos.

© José Coelho, 2015  

Humanidades #2

Humanidades #2

nascemos e

aprendemos as palavras necessárias

e de manhã, inebriados de sal e sangue

abrimos janelas e estendemo-las

como mantas ao ar fresco

carpimo-las ainda

virgens, sedentas de

significado

depois, elas

zurzem-nos impressões

cromáticas

de cada vez que as olhamos

seduzem-nos

mentindo descaradamente

constroem alternativas

lilazes

e cantam-nos a alegria

ou a tristeza

com notas mudas que enlouquecem

sem batuta

nem pre-aviso

de validade

morremos e...

© José Coelho, 2015