bathtub full of blue

the sky became some lab experiment

unwilling test subject number phi

it kills not to know what time is it

but what the hell, this is relative

to the observer in mars, it is shit

now you are some creature of myth

something out of homer's dreams

a horned god of some sort, goat legs and all

the norse gods are just over, having a beer

along incan priests and tolkien's little people

inside, she feels like strawberry jelly

out, it's like stainless steel

and the stripped cat is somewhere else

his japanese features whisper

"come on, pull the moon"

the raindrops, the lake and the farm

the glow of starlight... was there a lake at all?

we are lost and alone among friends

their faces everchanging, hazel and blue

the devil's got my truth, and won't return

I couldn't care less.

robot interface

I feel like a child today

there is a mistake in this state

unknown from back then

so I amuse myself

in comparing both strains

of a long, lost sense

one from pristine time of simpler things

the calm exposure and experience to our ways

everything so subtle, yet so clear

feeds me with the fittest of dreams

and this, something of everything, so sudden, fast, what you cannot grasp

like a hurricane made of moths, and you jump from the flock

and swim in melted clocks in parallel processors

tragically, it all fades down in about an hour

and all you can barely is to sever the weather

stop and get some paper, have a deep breath

and try to be clever and write it all down

os mortos irão dançar até o amanhecer

observo sombras na serenidade, o silencioso suplício dos segredos
se espalha às centopéias para sorver e morrer
o seguro certo para tempos incertos.
sou o espírito sedento de sangue, o sublime substituto
para a ternura da tempestade, sob estranha embriaguez,
testando minha temperança e meu semblante sóbrio e san(t)o.

estagnação sucumbe o sagrado, permanece o pecado
dias distantes, demoníacos, derramam-se em devaneios
desejamos mais que diversão, drinks e desperdício
e amanhã, ah, "amanhã é outro dia"

um novo dia intangível
as paredes pedem por perecer
e o tempo distorce nossa tez
tão tenra, tórrida e transbordando certeza
mas sem a tenacidade para transformar
quando o preço se cobrar, a carne apodrecerá

uma sonata para o sofrimento
disrritmia dissonante
sonhando com uma saída
espero que não tenhas esperança.

the dead will dance until dawn

I see shadows in serenity, the silent scream of secrets
spread as centipedes to sever and never
return the certain shelter from this stormy weather
I am the spirit of spite incarnate, the sublime surrogate
of the taste of tempest under uncanny vacancy
testing my temperance and skin of sinless sober san(t)ity

stagnation separates the soul from the sin
and we dream of dreaded days where we will be away
wishing for more time to waste in drinks and kicks
'cause "tomorrow we'll do what we need to"

tomorrow, overmorrow, nevermorrow
the walls wail for breakdown
and we frown and moan at the passage of time
so young and yang, lustful and full of trust
but dead of fresh thoughts, la même chose, tous les jours
time will take its toll and the flesh will mirror the soul

dance as the dead
dissonant dysrhythm
dreaming of escape
but I don't think you can

partidas y arribos

you say goodbye and then the engine start and you feel a rush, a connection with each little cog that runs this clock, the mechanical spirituality so 21st-centuriesque that children are born with wi-fi included, above the mountains it feels so weird so unnatural as if I'm missing all the little landscapes and faces and peestops and nights-at-little-inns that would compose a REAL trip, still the lights down there tend to have a high æsthetical value, in which I mean they are pretty, and then the migration papers come, and in this land of unfairness, it's always about the taxes... and "it ain't nothing sure in this life, except death and taxes" and I'm sure they won't collect taxes from dead people so it should be "death or taxes" and then you fill the papers in, declaring all the little trinkets and useless waste you bought, cause you had to you need to so you can show and shove all your power in-to the neighbors like a aroused male peacock would as if your smartassphone would save you in case of a plane crashing into the rocks and woods almost as if they were claiming their dead brothers stolen by us when justice is made and in case of a crash panic would be spreading like flu but there would be one smiling at last free from our stock-market-samsara and the customs control and taxes and prohibition. 'cause death is freedom, life is illusion. but the plane comes down, the way it should be. and life goes on, the way it can be. at least I can see the ones I miss, the ones that put sense into all of this.

sunlight

sunlight hits
what does it means to be alive
in our endless, unholy hives
that plague the sacred grounds
endless halls of constant crawl

step out
out of this whole hole of dirt
purge the darkness and the war
from our open-wounded hearts
and feel the freedom newfound

so you die
but the earth is still around
it will tear itself apart
grow its child in the wilds
honor the old into stone

you will become
the ground you walk
and then, mountains
everything is alive
until the sunlight
hits us all

Despedida - Troca trilhos

A Deus dedicadas incertezas
A Deus lúgubres lamentos
A Deus jogadas as mãos
A Deus sopradas sombras no caminho
A Deus a culpa de meus destemperos
A Deus orações por liberdade

Em curvas de vento, vôo, vou
Migrar ao norte para o meu verão
Me ensinam as músicas do cantar dos patos
Notas rosa ou verde
Ou amarelas ou verde de novo
Saudades vêm, vão, virão
Vãos

Troco trilhos
Essa grande estrada d'água
Enche meus olhos
Enche minha alma

Sobre meus ombros, o céu, apenas
E o nariz aponta o caminho
Do homem
A fé em esgueiradas ruínas caídas à Terra
Aos amigos agradeço
A fé
A Deus