Where Lies Are Sweet

em um pedestal
eu descanso
apenas para o seu prazer
que você compartilha com os outros também

flocos de neve caem sobre mim
são minhas memórias
do frio e do branco
apenas o que eu tenho
em um corpo petrificado

 
dedos curiosos, deslizam sobre mim
em meus calcanhares esculpidos
eu sinto a força
de volta

um calor suave…..

na minha lembrança sonolenta

esvoaçante

calor, calor….

tentando soletrar da minha boca congelada

OH!

eu não preciso mais me mover

eu posso aceitar a solidão

e ser esquecido

então, quando o tempo é meu inimigo

dor poderia se juntar a outras dores

e impor o seu poder

petrificado eu posso esquecer

e apenas dormir para sempre

feito de mármore

a lembrança da dor é mais poderosa que o amor…

Deixe-me

lá, deitado

na minha tumba nívea
com o branco e o frio
dos falsos flocos de neve, inertes
deitados sobre mim

um lugar onde as mentiras são doces….

An Armored Man

an armored man bought  a bread
a french bread … a sliced bread
starving as you are… you have to eat
pure… enjoying the salt
that it’ll give you the life
another night the same man
buy the same bread to you
and your thoughts guiding you to a remembrance
when you had
something more than a salted piece of bread
on your table
and you see yourself
alone… alone

The Minuano took my Soul….

The Minuano blew hard these days
while I was still breathing warm

~as the cold ~  always precedes the cold and win
~It went away~ taking   my little steam soul

undulating in the air,  losing herself  in little drops….

   as water

 in a  boiling kettle
just whirling in the air
tasteless and odorless

Rising ~ capriciously  ~ to pour  into  rain~

again…..

Minuano or simply minuano Wind is the name given to the  current air  that typically affects the Brazilian states of Rio Grande do Sul, Santa Catarina and Paraná. It’s a cold wind of polar origin (Atlantic polar air mass), occurs after the passage of cold fronts of fall and winter, usually after rain.  Wikipedia.

Seasons Time

Seasons time are for lonely hearts

they think about spring
it is coming with good things
they thought if summer arrives
will bring some sunshine to their lifeBut the Poet season comes and
autumn … is  someone , something that gone away
long, long time ago

and what is important goes away so quickly

Season’s thoughts are for sad Poets
measuring their life in slices of time

reaping feelings, undone love, tears drops
in front a snowy gate

what we  must do?

if cold is a place where all is stolen from us
If winter is the best  harvest season
and comes ravenous against our souls

The woman from the cold wind

 

blues eyes, green eyes
have so long that a cold wind frozen your face and closed your smiles

that i cant recognize you anymore

wide lips , wide laughs and sonorous

have so long you do not lose yourself~ away~
~like always we did ~remember?

 i cant hear you anymore

but i understand …

was something keen~ pointed~

snowy your soul ~white white ~

~so much pain in that color ~

 blowed and taking you along and alone

~petrifying you with all yours virtues~

inside….
Oh!

and i , here, so lonely wondering….

where is the  hybrid  eyes~ the lips  and the laughs~

when the time changed and ask for….

Oh! You are the same You know?

Was just a frozen cold wind that passed by there…..

a winter in your soul

but finally

 blue and green eyes unfrozen again ….

To my Friend Jane Freitag Braun.

Reptile Heart day 5 napowrimo

Inspired by~
One Poet and  friend call me alligator. I think with myself, why not??? That is why we are poets……

~An Reptile Heart~

beat slow and cold
inside my~ something~
what once was innocent and hot
transform itself in a torpid beast

A evolution of the species

i always knew that i was a reptile
changing colors and sharpening my claws
an alteration in my eyes
two colored orbits ~peppering ~

I spit ink to seduce
an introduction for their surrender
placid temptation in my colored lake
there ~exposed ~ in sunbathing

perfect tail and smooth paws
powering the desire to capture me
in a thrust of lust ~lips wandering through my mouth~
waiting~ patiently~ by the normal beat ….

of my reptile heart

Where lies are sweet!

in a pedestal
i rest
just for your pleasure
that you share with others too

snowflakes fall on me
are my memories
from the cold and the white
just what i have
in a petrified body
curious fingers, slip over me
on my  carved  heels
i feel the strength
back

a smooth heat…..

in my  sleepy remembrance

fluttering

heat, heat….

trying to spell out from my frozen mouth

OH!

i no longer need to move

i can accept the loneliness

and be forgotten

so, when time is my enemy

pain  could join  to others pains

and enforce your power

petrified i   can forget

and just sleep forever

made out of marble

pain remembrance is most powerful that love…

let  me there, lying down

in my niveous tomb
with the white and the cold
of fake snowflakes, inert
lying over  me

a place where lies are sweet….

Making glass!

the flame
was more than a blaze
more than hot
fervent ~ lascivious ~

the glass
taking form
from my pulse
no-form
cutting and chipping

voices in the background
deep eyes
evoking applause

how many can do that

bring the color to the white

the spectrum
that rest at least
alone

I am to cold for that!

i think was in a altar
that you eat my flesh
drink my blood too
like in a ritual

I am here
for you devastating my all
I am surrendering myself
to your words

be easily to me
Could you
Please?
dont make me Uh!
or begin for your AH!
Just pass over me
and all is ok

Do what you do of the best

eat me so gentle
love me so empty
that i could be your winter
the best i could feel

So, be cold with me
be no one with me
but be someone
You was  my love

be coldness
distant
love that
i am too

i can come with that
but i am too cold for

Blame the wind

There, between two pointed Rocks

vast plain to eyes see
a solitary man
stand still

the wind blows from the moorlands
reaches him

pretending
be her voice

fingers of death over your left shoulder

to give the bitter kiss

in the immense meadow

a solitary man
keep vigil

waiting so far
don’t seeing this view
between two worlds

where she lay

everything has to do with the wind

as it blows cold and cruel

over the relentless man

molded and carved by it.
among  the living
sculptured  man

there

embraced by memories

Now wrapped

for deadly dark souls

to give him hell

Blame the Wind!

A soul

cut in stone

like the two rocks

at beginning of the scenes