Not Everything You Buy Fits

Not everything you buy fits
does not fit on the closet
or tightly on your baggage

does not fit in the car
and inside the freezer
OH! You cant get  the total pleasure

we are not able to
place in just   place out  ~to see~
~In~ does not match with style

And you still trying….

so much to save so much to keep

and you don ‘t know How to do to suit

no room within and a lot to squeeze

Drum to be heard

the drums chanting

labored by calloused hands

it doesnt know others sounds
but the deaf drumming of their longings

no one to hear…no one to understand

but men preparing yourself to battle
perfect circle and a numbing dancing,
an echo ~vibrating inside their chest~

courage  courage arousing

drum’s  rhythm it is ~the voice to be heard~

I had

A frightening vision when the spirit of war arrived
i was there at the beginning ~watching~
now, i paint myself with red and white
dancing around ~i am primitive~  I’ve always been


no one to hear… no one to understand

photojournalist Betty Press

photojournalist Betty Press


longinghe sit behind those windows
as a right ~minimal~

thinking Alone ~ exhausted~
gleaming as a solid  carved figure
so real ~so heavy ~
A silent message from a silhouette
intense and living

steps disturbing  his thought
far away….but coming

breaking  away the not shared  thoughts

~to search for  ~ a little of love~
a tactile hand paused on his head
fingers entwining the hair
a cozy breath a warm touch
a tender kiss on his back
another deep breath
fall apart  ~ the guaranteed silence~

he stands up ~knowing~

Economic Feelings
to the life

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 lifesnowy gateBut 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

Knock, Knock, Knock….

knock, knock, knock
it is life again
do you feel this void inside?
maybe a fear?
something to do and you dont know How?
They call this reality sometimes life
that put you above the foam of oceans
just to push you back at the bottom
deep, deeply

you need air and use your strength to get it
and it is too much effort
in a brief moment you are ~done~
Oops…again at the topSwallow Ocean
so, so careless with us
I am a little tired of being thrown

from a side to another
thinking in How to fix it
But i cant…we cant
It is Life…They say….

Knock, knock, Knock

Wait ~just a moment~ I have to…

Catch my Breath first….


Between Shakespeare and Bukowisk!





you trace my back


with yours slender fingers


 until i kneel down 


 in solemn adoration






I am asking ~without words~


and cursing all my clothes


that you gently remove




you divide my body 


half nude ~half expectation~


and i fall soundlessly ~petal by petal~


loving in secrecy your perverse style






that is all i remember from your love


that you starts as Shakespeare


on my bed



and ends as  Bukowisk ~ slamming the door~