Who ?

who is there peeping on the branches
waiting for your naive soul
since your childhood

feathers of mustard seed
tweeting for you

it has the yellow orbits of the birds

in dusk or dawn glimmering

with opaque eyes

OH!

it is not a crow

trying to steal  your breath!

~not good not evil~Branches_on_a_rainy_day

just what you picked and dreamed
and
because was ground up together with the yellow seed
has one salvation

has there ~sitting over the gold cage~
hidden
a crowned soul

until has no more voice
until has no more soul

Oh! Waterloo!!!

waterloo-bridge-sunlight-effect-5water under the bridge
before reach the shaken hearts
taking all my dreams of resistance

~to win~

Oh Waterloo

i am under opression of your waters

turbulence drawn me to the bottom

~cruel  words ~
passing by flesh

~violent moves~
Oh! traversing
soft and moist  is my inner thigh

I am there, waiting…

once for all
no rest to me after you

Oh Waterloo

is not falsely that i sing to you

a song of a ravaged body
in enchantments and dreams

definitely

grieve me with a break on my heart

i still believe in surprise

could not be otherwise
you are my haunting nights

inside the defenses that i could not build

they laugh !!!

Oh! Waterloo

be generous

and let nothing behind

but only my redemption

draw me in tears for my sins

call me into you

Oh! Waterloo!!!

Where the poet ~IS~?

PAPEL(when the poet is going away

he is the victim of your own words)

Where is the poetry?
if the poet left it
if his words have become tired
much as he is
where is the love?
who lived in letters
between a poet and author
silent, mute

now threatens ~ tricked in the world~

once

weaving precious sounds
in your ear ~ the letters dancing ~
words that can be for anyone

loose, abandoned, there
rest your heart ~listening~

alone…

but the bard, the minstrel
had gone away

the words, the ballet
make sense just for him
and you pour tears
to enchanted more and more
your poetry

precious
tears

so where the poet ~is~?
crumpled sheet paper on the ground
careless steps and sadness
of one more unfinished poem

But not in your heart
is not?

The Lizard

Lizard-Eye-HDnor needed to be so beautiful as well
or thin eyes
that comes with attraction redemptive

nor deserved kisses so dry
or drown you in my rivulet
like lizard ~resting your lips upon mine~

or away so away ~theres no needed to be~
where has not warm arms

~a jar ~

like my windows and doors
just covets hugs

bathed in the sun

as a lizard , with colors in disguise

resting you and me

Spirit Leaf is hovering upon me

do you know that wave
that shroud you and take you to the deep?
if you take risks , of course

or the taste of the air at 1.800 meters of height?
if you know how to climb

maybe  feel the pleasure

that comes from one old and comfort   tennis
when you walk for miles and miles

that is me
and i am in my habitat

what is wild
is in reach of my hands

I am and always will be
better don’t push me!!!!
because i have a Gun!!!!

and the spirit of the  braves

inside me, running in my veins

nonetheless
besides all this warnings

Oh my!!!!!!

you put a bone on my throat
i’ll have to spit it out

and
put you on your really place!

i’ll  wipe  you

until you become mist
and just disappear!!!!

HUM!

See, here i am, wild again!

with my gun in hands
reloading…..pulando Pico Agulhas Negras

~just doing all for my baby~

how do you feel?
watching my great performance
and perfect aim

Bang Bang! BUM!

shooting, swimming, hiking
and….
in my  wild planet

better go
before  Spirit Leaf hover upon me again!

So many Mary(s) and John(s)

 

De mãos dadasAll Mary has your John
where you find the drink
finds the chalice

All John is present
on feast days
to honor his sweet Mary

She is above
and Mary is your thirst

Jonn is below
and he is her shelter

So Mary is a clear fluid
waters ~and waters under the bridge~
And John your blessing

Both of them in compassion for life

What is for her she gives to him

and for him must just ~ receive~

Liquid Mary

and become melted John!

both of them promises one to another
crying loud

But how many times
many Mary(s)
feels herself without your John