I don’t know change the tire!

estrada Sumaré

I cry for some few reasons
when I dont have a chocolate cake
when they break my W&N kit paint
When i hear that familiar sound

Oh! just needed to rolling by the road
but
the blast holding my arms
shaking me and saying to me
you have to change the tire!

What???

AH! At this moment
hot tears
flowing out of me
not precious and fine
transparent and contained
so convenient
but together with hiccups
and convulsions
inconvenient

am i ~ thick ~ enough?
What did i wrong?
i will shake my butt
and the fingers too
to ask for a scarf
and a big man to do

Nothing more was broken
or in pieces by the road
not more tears just feeling
the song of my motor

The history of alcohol, cigarettes and other good things!!!

indio dançando
tum tum tum
urgh, ghrum, ghrum
Is the “white man” at 6 pm
asking for his drink

millions years ago

no table, no cup
but always a thong and the eager to go

further….

creck, crack, oops
is the lonely alchemist
trying to find a way
to solve
the thirst of the troglodyte
and he got it!!!!

a million  years ago!

the cave’s woman knew
that she needed , so
get the paint for her hair
and others things too

~ her compensation ~
for our fall from the sky

OOH! AAH! yes, yes , yes
is the iIndian People
handling colors
and a ~ smoke trees ~ raising

time before time…. years ago!

But God forgot
and slept and slipped ugly

And the cave’s man and woman
meet with the alchemist
by chance ……
and all of them
wanted a beer, a chemistry for hair
and something more……

Meanwhile….
the Indian people
~ inhale and bail ~
with fire, smokes and colors

singing ~dancing~
Heya! Yeah! Heya! Yeah!

The wolf!

lobo uivando

I was trying to talk last night
fighting with the internet again
millions and millions in my front line
like marines landing in a traffic shore
I think i was the last
who picked up the signal
and he says to me
laughing and in good mood
is the moon
the full moon that attacks you
i ran to see above the view sky
And
angry i replied
i am not a wolf
that lay howling to the moon

But something strange
started to change
fur and claws
sharp teeth
and a big howl
just came out from me

Fertile Ground

Chartres 616 Once a farmer
always a good sower
dropping of branches of the pines trees
there was the seed!

how tiny and succulent was the fruit
from that tree
one ~ among ~
others, served between a cup of hot tea

that remain as an empty capsule
petrified inside the walls of the Great home Symbol

the fruits falling down
wasted on the ground
resisting at the wind and the well too
~ waiting ~
in a lent memory of nature

despair also exists
to lay claim her hands
even she, never asking for help
its the nature of brothers

and had a mother and father and some other people
crying there!
The seed getting rid

mirror of water
just a shallow intention
on that fertile ground!

SHEM! He and She at same time!

love for english!!!

Shem was created by the Poet Midnight Voices, Thomas, while we were talking . The master in news sound and words!!!!

talking another language, forgetting
your rhythm
No, is not that
Is almost there but is not completely

English is for hear, English is no for talk!
don’t you understand that?

when we talk we forgot
our love for Shem!

and the ~ red rose ~ this sound that you must reach
with extremely care
and hear ~ when words allows to you ~
never in hurry!

So, shem drops

one by one, rolling
making a bigger ~ full silence ~
between the space

sometimes
when Shem permits!
and when wind come first

you should refine your sense
purify your heart
and just stop a little
…………….

you are now ready
for able to listen
how resounding is Shem in your soul

the scent and the wind
together ,hands by hands
smoothing
like a soft ball that rolls

straight on your heart
and from than now, forever!

So, excuse me
but allows me to love and suffer
and write just for Shem

The lake and the fisherman

coração gelado (1)

She never saw before

a frozen lake

but it should be on your mind

as a thing icy
lost in the white
and with  a hole
in the middle
with an external perfect diameter
and  a liquid, dark and gelid

running out

Maybe, if you are a luck man

you will meet

on  that all whiteness

a forlorn fisherman

and being more fortunate

a white bear

with all graces of one haven

She never saw before a white bear

but it should be, in your mind

as a thing  icy

lost in the white

and has a hole
in the middle
with an external perfect diameter

and a liquid, dark and gelid

running out

And if you have luck

you should don’t see the bear

just the lonely fisherman

if God really look at you

you’ll  never see  who kills who

Wind, Blow, Gail!

vento e solidão MMI tried to do the best! Hope you like this translation!

Wind, Blow, Gail!

I took part in a gale
the biggest of my life
strange atmospheric variation
coming so suddenly

What he did to me?
Ah! I remain with almost nothing

I say, that kind of wind,
start temperate
in the morning
kind a little cold a mist
a little tepid.
So smooth ~ not hear it ~

far in the day ~ it burns ~
whip more precisely

Night fall,
throw me to the ground
sometimes!

But, I, accustomed to the winds
and yours subtle moves
soon, felt on my chest
that i was adrift

Wind, blow, gale
comes sets from the north
bringing a restless and unexpected blow
a demanding heat!

cold and hot
goes, taking all around
hands and legs
making swirls

I had to ask to myself
Is it passed ? Completely?

or

has to resigned to the will
to such voracity

Taking all and nothing rest
prevails and dominates
in its short period of times

strange wind!
Impatient wind!

comes from another time
and play with us

Vento, Ventado, Ventania!!!

ventoThis poem has a strange story and it is very difficult to translate into English. I did it thinking in my native language . So the rhythm is totally different when I try to translate into English. There are words and sounds which need further study. But I swear to you I will try.
The poem speaks of winds, various types and many names. As the intensity of the wind grows, or blow or gale she changes too.

I think of her, putting clothes to dry in the backyard. Then, at that moment, the wind comes, and comes bringing old memories ….

Vento, Ventado, Ventania!

Participei de uma ventania
A maior de minha vida!
Estranha variação atmosférica
vinda assim tão de repente
O que me causou?
Ah! E pouco que me restou!
Digo que tal ar,
começa brando.
Manhã,
assim meio frio
meio morno.
Suave, tanto não se escuta
Tarde ~arde mais~
Açoita com mais precisão
Noite,
derruba, avassala, destrói!
Mas eu afeita aos ventos
habituada aos seus sutis movimentos
logo, senti em meu peito
que esse vento seria permanente

Vento! Ventado! Ventania!
Vem soprando do norte
trazendo, agitado e inconsequente
um calor exigente!

Frio e depois quente.
Vai levando
mãos e braços
faz redemoinhos!
ele Passou?
Totalmente?
E há de se submeter
a tal voracidade!
Leva tudo, nada fica.
Impera e domina

Vento estranho!

Vento impaciente!
chega de outros tempos
e brinca com a gente!